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BOHN'S STANDARD LIBRARY.
46. SCHLEGELS LECTURES ON MODERN HISTORY.
47. LAMARTINE'S
48
49,

& 50.

HISTORY

JUN US'S LETTERS,

OF

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REVOLUTION

FRENCH

with Notes, Additions,

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Essay, Index.

55, 60, 65, 71. VASARI'S LIVES OF THE MOST CELEBRATED PAIN77ll'S.
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FOaTR,
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[" Faust," "Iphigcnia," "Torquato Two,"
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62. GOETHE'S WORKS.
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hichinges," translated by Sea WALTER SCOTT.
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66, 58, 61, 66, 67, 75, & 82. NEANDER'S CHURCH HISTORY.
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.f

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RASSELAS.

CHAP.

1.

dropped fruits upon the ground. All animals that bite the grass, or browse the
shrubs, whether wild or tame, wandered
in this extensive circuit, secured from
Ys who listen with credulity to the whispers beasts of prey by the mountains which conof fancy, and pursue with eagerness the fined them. On one part were flocks and
phantoms of hope; who expect that age herds feeding in the pastures, on another
will perform the promises of youth, and all beasts of chase frisking in the lawns :
the
that the deficiencies of the present day will the sprightly kid was bounding on the
be supplied by the morrow; attend to the rocks, the subtle monkey frolicking in the
history of Rasselas, prince of Abissinia.
trees, and the solemn elephant reposing in
Rasselas was tl'e fourth son of the mighty the shade. All the diversities of the world
emperor, in whose dominions the father of were brought together, the blessings of nawaters begins his course; whose bounty ture were collected, and its evils extracted
pours down the streams of plenty, and and excluded.
scatters over the world the harvests of
The valley, wide and fruitful, supplied its
Egypt.
inhabitants with the necessaries of life;
According to the custom which has de- and all delights and superfluities were
scended from age to age among the mon- added at the annual visit which the emarchs of the torrid zone, Rasselas was con- peror paid his children, when the iron gate
fined in a private palace, with the other was opened to the sound of music; and
sons and daughters of Abissinian royalty, during eight days, every one that resided
till the order of succession should call him in the valley was required to propose whatto the throne.
ever might contribute to make seclusion
The place, which the wisdom or policy pleasant, to fill up the vacancies of atte;:of antiquity had destined for the residence tion, and lessen the tediousness of time.
of the Abissinian princes, was a spacious Every desire was immediately granted. All
valley in the kingdom of Amhara, sur- the artificers of pleasure were called to
rounded on every side by mountains, of gladden the festivity; the musicians exwhich the summits overhang the middle erted thc power of harmony, and the danpart. The only passage by which it could cersshowed their activity before the
be entered was a cavern that passed u ",'-princes, in hopes that they should pass
a rock, of which it had long been dispued their lives in blissful captivity, to which
whether it was the work of nature or of those only were admitted whose performhuman industry. The outlet of the cavern ance was thought able to add novelty to
was concealed by a thick wood, and the luxury. Such was the appearance of secumouth which opened into the valley was rity and delight which this retirement afclosed with gates of iron, forged by the ar- forded, that they to whom it was new altificers of ancient days, so massy, that no ways desired that it might be perpetual;
man, without the help of engines, could and as those on whom the iron gate had
open or shut them.
once closed were never suffered to return,
From the mountains on every side rivu- the effect of longer experience could not be
lets descended, that filled all the valley known. Thus every year produced new
with verdure and fertility, and formed a scenes of delight, and new competitors for
lake in the middle, inhabited by fish of imprisonment.
every species, and frequented by every
The palace stood on an eminence, raised
fowl whom nature has taught to dip the about thirty paces above the surface of the
wing in water. This lake discharged its lake. It was divided into many squares or
superfluities by a stream, which entered a courts, built with greater or less magnifidark cleft of the mountain on the northern cence, according to the rank of those for
side, and fell with dreadful noise from pre- whom they were designed. The roofs were
joined
cipice to precipice, till it was heard no turned into
arches of massy stone,
by a cement that grew has der by time; and
more.
The sides of the mountains were covered the building stood from century to century,
with trees, the banks of the brooks were deriding the solstitial rains and equinoctial
diversified with flowers: every blast shook hurricanes, without need of reparation.
This lhouse, which was so large as to be
spices from the rocks, and every month
Description of a Palacein a Falley.

4

RASSELAS.

fully known to none but some ancient officers, who successively inherited the secrets
of the place, was built as if Suspicion her.
self had dictated the plan. To every room
there was an open and secret passage;
every square had a communication with
the rest, either from the upper stories by
private galleries, or by subterraneous passages from the lower apartments. Many
of the columns had unsuspected cavities, in
which a long race of monarchs had reposited their treasures. They then closed
up' the opening with marble, which was
never to be removed but in the utmost exigencies of the kingdom; and recorded
their accumulations in a book, which was
itself concealed in a tower, not entered but
by the emperor, attended by the prince who
stood next in succession.

CHAP. II.
T7e Discontent of Rasselas in the happy

Palley.

ERE the sons and daughters of Abissinia
lived only to know the soft vicissitudes of
pleasure and repose, attended by all that
were skilful to delight, and gratified with
whatever the senses can enjoy. The3
wandered in gardens of fragrance, and slept
in the fortresses of security. Every art
was practised to make them pleased with
their own condition. The sages who instructed them told them of nothing but the
miseries of public life, and described all
beyond the mountains as regions of calamity, where discord was always raging,
and where man preyed upon man. To
heighten their opinion of their own felicity, they were daily entertained with songs,
the subject of which was the happy valley.
Their appetites were excited by frequent
enumerations of different enjoyments, and
revelry and merriment were the business of
every hour, from the dawn of morning to
the close of the evening.
These methods were generally successful: few of the princes had ever wished to
enlarge their bounds, but passed their lives
in full conviction that they had all within
their reach that art or nature could bestow, and pitied those whom nature hadil
excluded from this seat of tranquillity, as
the sport of chance and the slaves of misery.
Thus they rose in the morning and lay
down at night, pleased with each other and
with themselves, all but Rasselas, who, in
the twenty-sixth year of his age, began to
withdraw himself from the pastimes and assemblies, and to delight in solitary walks
and silent meditation. He often sat before
tables covered with luxury, and forgot to
taste the dainties that were placed before
him: he rose abruptly in the midst of the
song, and hastily retired beyond the sound
of music. His attendants observed the
change, and endeavoured to renew his love
of pleasure: he neglected their officiousness, repulsed their invitations, and spent

day after day on the banks of rivulets
sheltered with trees, where he sometimes
listened to the birds in the branches, sometimes observed the fish playing in the
stream, and anon cast his eyes upon the
pastures and mountains filled with animals, of which some were biting the herb.
age, and some sleeping among the bushes.
The singularity of his humour made him
much observed. One of the sages, in whose
conversation he had formerly delighted, fol.
lowed him secretly, in hope of discovering
the cause of his disquiet. Rasselas, who
knew not that any one was near him, having for some time fixed his eyes upon the
goats that were browsing among the rocks,
began to compare their condition with his
own.
"What," said he, "makes the difference
between man and all the rest of the animal
creation ? Every beast that strays beside
me has the same corporal necessities with
myself : he is hungry, and crops the grass;
he is tirsty, and drinks the stream: his
thirst and hunger are appeased; he is satisfied, and sleeps : he rises again, and is
hungry; he is again fed, and is at rest. I
am hungry and thirsty, like him, but when
thirst and hunger cease, I am not at rest;
I am, like him, pained with want, but am
not, like him, satisfied with fulness. The
intermediate hours are tedious and gloomy :
I long again to be hungry, that I may again
quicken the attention. The birds peck the
berries or the corn, and fly away to the
groves, where they sit in seeming happiness on the branches, and waste their lives
in tuning one unvaried series of sounds. I
likewise can call the lutanist and the
singer; but the sounds that pleased me yesterday weary me to-day, and will grow yet
more wearisome to-morrow. I can discover in me no power of perception which is
not glutted with its proper pleasure, yet I
do not feel myself delighted. Man surely
has some latent sense, fbr which this place
affords no gratification; or he has some de.
sires distinct from sense, which must be sa.
tisfied before he can be happy "
After this he lifted up his head, and see.
ing the moon rising, walked towards the
palace. As he passed through the fields,
and saw the animals around him, "Ye,"
said he, "are happy, and need not envy
me, that walk thus among you, burthened
with myself; nor do I, ye gentle beings,
envy your felicity; for it is not the felicity
of man. I have many distresses from which
ye are free; I fear pain when I do not feel
it : I sometimes shrink at evils recollected,
and sometimes start at evils anticipated;
surely the equity of Providence has balanced peculiar sufferings with peculiar enjoyments.'
With observations like these the prince
amused himself as he returned, uttering
them with a plaintive voice, yet with a look
that discovered him to feel some complacence in his own perspicacity, and to receive
some solace of the miseries of life, from con.
sciousness of the delicacy with which he
felt, and the eloquence with which he be.
wailed them. Hemingled cheerfully in the

RASSELAS.
diversions of the evening, and all rejoicea
to find that his heart was lightened.
CHAP. III.
The Wants of him that wants nothing.
Ox the next day, his old instructor, imagining that he had now made himself acquainted with his disease of mind, was in
hiope curing it by counsel, and officiously
of
sought an opportunity ofconference, which
the prince having long considered him as
one whose intellects were exhausted, was
not very willing to afford. " Why," said he,
"doesthis man thus intrude upen me ? shall
I never be suffered to forget these letters,
which pleased only while they were new,
and to become new again, must be forgotten ?" He then walked into the wood, and
composed himself to his usual meditations ;
when, before his thoughts had taken any
settled form, he perceived his pursuer at his
side, and was at first prompted by his impatience to go hastily away; but being unwilling to offend a man whom he had once
reverenced, and still loved, he invited him
to sit down with him on the bank.
The old man, thus encouraged, began to
lament the change which had been lately
observed in the prince, and to inquire why
he so often retired from the pleasures of the
palace, to loneliness and silence. "I fly
from pleasure," said theprince, "because
pleasure has ceased to please : I am lonely
because I am miserable, and am unwilling
to cloud with my presence the happiness of
others."-" You, sir," said the sage, "are
the first who has complained of misery in
the happy valley. I hope to convince you
that your complaints have no real cause.
You are here in full possession of all the
emperor of Abissinia can bestow; here is
neither labour to be endured nor danger to
be dreaded, yet here is all that labour or
danger can procure or purchase. Look
round and tell me which of your wants is
without supply : if you want nothing, how
are you unhappy ?"
I want nothing," said the prince,
" or that I know not what I want, is the
cause of my complaint : if I had any known
want, I should have a certain wish ; that
wish would excite endeavour, and I should
not then repine to see the sun move so
slowly towards the western mountains, or
to lament when the day breaks, and sleep
willno longer hide me from myself. When
I see the kids and the lambs chasing one
another, I fancy that I should be happy if
I had something to pursue. But, possessing all that I can want, I find one day and
one hour exactly like another, except that
the latter is still more tedious than the for-.
mer. Let your experience inform me how
the day may now seem as short as in my
childhood, while nature was yet fresh, and
every moment showed me what 1 had never
observed before. I have already enjoyed ton
much: give me something to desire." The
old man was surprised at this new species

,That

of affliction, and knew not what to reply, yet
was unwilling to be silent. "Sir," said he,
"if you had seen themiseries of the world,
you would know how to value your present
state."-" Now," said the prince, "you have
given me something to desire: I shall lorng
to see the miseries of the world, since the
sight of them is necessary to happiness."

CHAP. IV.
Te Princecontinues to grieve and muse.
AT this time the sound of music proclaimed the hour of repast, and the conversation
was concluded. The old man went away
sufficiently discontented to find that his
reasonings had produced the only conclu.
sion which they were intended to prevent.
But in the decline of life, shame and grief
are of short duration : whether it be that
we bear easily what we have borne long ;
or that, finding ourselves in age less regarded, we less regard others; or, that we
look with slight regard upon afflictions, to
which we know that the hand of death is
about to put an end.
The prince, whose views were extended
to a wider space, could not speedily quiet
his emotions. He had been before terrified at the length of life which nature promised him, because he considered that in a
long time much must be endured : he now
rejoiced in his youth, because in many years
much might be done. This first beam of
hope that had been ever darted into his
mind rekindled youth in his cheeks, and
doubled the lustre of his eyes. He was
fired with the desire of doing something,
though he knew not yet, with distinctness,
either end or means. He was now no longer
gloomy and unsocial; but, considering
himself as master of a secret stock of happiness, which he could only enjoy by concealing it, he affected to be busy in all the
schemes of diversion, and endeavoured to
make others pleased with the state of which
he himself was weary. But pleasures can
never be so multiplied or continued as not
to leave much of life unemployed; there
were many hours, both of the night and day,
which he could spend without suspicion in
solitary thought. The load of life was
much lightened; he went eagerly into the
assemblies, because he supposed the frequency of his presence necessary to the success of his purpose; he retired gladly to
privacy, because he had now a subject of
thought. His chief amusement was to picture to himself that world which he had
never seen, to place himself in various conditions, to be entangled in imaginary difficulties, and to be engaged in wild adventures ; but his benevolence always terminated his projects in the relief of distress,
the detection of fraud, the defeat of oppression, and the diffusion of happiness.
Thus passed twenty months of the life of
Rasselas. He busied himself so intensely in
visionary bustle that he forgot his real solitude; and, amidst hourly preparations for

6

RASSELAS.

thevarious incidents of human affairs, ne- earth and the instructions of the planets.
glected toconsider by what means he should Twenty months are past, who shall restore
them ?"
mingle with mankind,
One day, as he was sitting on a bank; he
These sorrowful meditations fastened upfeigned to himself an orphan virgin robbed on his mind: he passed four months in reof her little portion by a treacherous lot se, .olving to lose no more time in idle resolves,
and crying after him for restitution. So and was awakened to more vigorous exerstrongly was the image impressed upon his tion, by hearing a maid, who had broken a
mind, that he started up in the maid's de- porcelain cup, remark, that what cannot be
fence, and ran forward to seize the plun- repaired is not to be regretted.
derer with all the eagerness of real pursuit.
This was obvious; and Rasselas reFear naturally quickens the flight of guilt. proached himself that he had not disco.
Rasselas could not catch the fugitive with vered it; having not known, or not consi.
his utmost efforts; but, resolving to weary dered, how many useful hints are obtained
by perseverance him whom he could not by chance, and how often the mind, hursurpass in speed, he pressed on till the foot riedby her own ardour to distant views,
of the mountain stopped his course.
neglects the truths that lie opened before
Here he recollected himself, and smiled her. He, for a few hours, regretted his reat his own useless impetuosity. Then rais- gret, and from that time bent his whole
ing his eyes to themountain, " This," said mind upon the means of escaping from the
he, " is the fatal obstacle that hinders at once valley of happiness.
the enjoyment of pleasure and the exercise
of virtue. How long is it that my hopes
and wishes have flown beyond this boundary of my life, which yet I never have atCHAP. V.
tempted to surmount !"-Struck with this
reflection, he sat down to muse, and reThe Prince meditates his Escape.
membered, that since he first resolved to
escape from his confinement, the sun had HE now found that it would be very diffl.
passed twice over him in his annual course. cult to effect that which it was very easy to
He now felt a degree of regret with which suppose effected. When he looked round
he had never been before acquainted. He about him, he saw himself confined by the
considered how much might havebeen done bars of nature, which had never yet been
in the time which had passed, and left no- broken, and by the gate, through which
thing real behind it. He compared twenty none that once had passed it were ever able
months with the life of man.-" In life,' to return. He was now impatient as an
said he, " is not to be counted the ignorance eagle in a grate. He passed week after week
of infancy or imbecility of age. We are in clambering the mountains, to see if there
long before we are able to think, and we was any aperture which the bushes might
soon cease from the power of acting. The conceal, but found all the summits inaccestrue period of human existence may be sible by their prominence. The iron gate
reasonably estimated at forty years, of he despaired to open; for it was not only
which I have mused away the four-and- secured with all the power of art, but was
twentieth part. What I have lost was cer- always watchedby successive sentinels, and
tain, I have certainly possessed it; but was by its position exposed to the perpetua
for
of twenty months to come who can assure observation of all the inhabitants.
me ?"
He then examined the cavern through
The consciousness of his own folly pierc- which the waters of the lake were dised him deeply, and he was long before he charged; and, looking down at a time when
could be reconciled to himself. "The rest the sun shone strongly upon its mouth, he
of my time," said he, "has been lost by the discovered it to be full of broken rocks,
crime or folly of my ancestors, and the ab- which, though they permitted the stream
surd institutions of my country; I remem- to flow through many narrow passages,
ber it with disgust, yet without remorse : would stop any body of solid bulk. He rebut the months that have passed since new turned discouraged and dejected : but, hav
light darted into my soul, since I formed a ing now known the blessing of hope, rescheme of reasonable felicity, have been solved never to despair.
squandered by my own fault. I have lost
In these fruitless researches he spent ten
that which can never be restored: I have months. Thetime, however, passed cheer.
seen the sun rise and set for twenty months, fully away : in the morning he rose with
an idle gazer on the light of heaven: in new hope, in the evening applauded his
this time the birds have left the nest of their own diligence, and in the night slept sound
mother, and committed themselves to the after his fatigue. He met a thousand
woods and to the skies ; the kid has for- amusements, which beguiled his labour and
saken the teat, and learned by degrees to diversified his thoughts. He discerned the
climb rocks in quest of independent sus- various instincts of animals, and properties
the
tenance. I only have made no advances, of plants, and found the place replete with
but am still helpless and ignorant. The wonders, of which he proposed to solace
moon, by more than twenty changes, ad- himself with the contemplation, if he should
monishedme of the flux of life: the stream never be able to accomplish his flight; re.
that rolled before my feet upbraided my in- joicing that his endeavours, though yet unactivity. I sat feasting on intellectual lux- I successful, had supplied him with a source of
tary, regardless alike of the examples of the inexhaustible inquiry.

RASSELAS.

7

that can swim needs not despair to fly : to
swim is to fly in a grosser fluid, and to fly is to
swim in a subtler. We are only to proportion our power ofresistance to the different
density of matter through which we are to
pass. You will be necessarily upborne by the
air, if you can renew any impulse upon it
faster than the air can recede from the
pressure."
"But the exercise of swimming," said the
prince, " is very laborious; the strongest
limbs are soon wearied : I am afraid the act
of flying will be yet more violent ; and
wings will be of no great use, unless we can
CHAP. VI.
fly further than we can swim."
"The labour of rising from the ground,"
A Dissertationon the Art ofFlying.
said the artist, "will be great, as we see
the
AMONG artists that had been allured in. in the heavier domestic fowls; but, as we
to the happy valley, to labour for the ac- mount higher, the earth's attraction, and
commcdation and pleasure of its inhabi- the body's gravity will be gradually dimitants, was a man eminent for his knowledge nished, till we shall arrive at a region where
of the mechanic powers, who had contrived the man will float in the air without any
many engines both of use and recreation, tendency to fall; no care will then be neBy a wheel, which the stream turned, he cessary but to move forward, which the
forced the water into a tower, whence it gentlest impulse will effect. You, sir,
w.s distributed to all the apartments of the whose curiosity is so extensive, will easily
palace. He erected a pavilion in the gar- conceive with what pleasure a philosopher,
den, around which he kept the air always furnished with wings, and hovering in the
One of the sky, would see the earth, and all its inhabicool by artificial showers.
groves, appropriated to the ladies, was ven- tants, rolling beneath him, and presenting
tilated by fans, to which the rivulets that to him successively, by its diurnal motion,
ran through it gave a constart motion ; and all the countries within the same parallel.
instruments of soft music were placed at How must it amuse the pendent spectaproper distances, of which some played by tor to see the moving scene of land and
the impulse of the wind, and some by the ocean, cities and deserts ! to survey with
equal security the marts of trade, and the
power of the stream,
This artist was sometimes visited by fields of battle; mountains infested by bar.
Rasselas, who was pleased with every kind barians, and fruitful regions gladdened by
of knowledge, imagining that the time plenty and lulled by peace ! How easily
would come when all his acquisitions should shall we then trace the Nile through all his
be of use to him in the open world. He passages, pass over to distant regions, and
came one day to amuse himself in his usual examine the face of nature from one extremanner, and found the master busy in mity of the earth to the other."
' All this," said the prince, "is much to
building a sailing chariot : he saw that the
design was practicable upon a level surface, be desired, but I am afraid that no man will
and with expressions of great esteem soli- be able to breathe in these regions of specucited its completion. The workman was lation and tranquillity. I have been told
pleased to find himself so much regarded by that respiration is difficult upon lofty moun;
the prince, and resolved to gain yet higher tains yet from these precipices, though so
honours. "Sir," said he, "you have seen high as to produce great tenuity of air, it is
but a small part of what the mechanic very easy to fall: therefore, I suspect, that
sciences can perform. I have been long of from any height, where life can be supopinion, that instead of the tardy convey- ported, there may be danger of too quick
ance of ships and chariots, man might use decent."
" Nothing," replied the artist, "will ever
the swifter migration of wings ; that the
fields of air are open to knowledge, and that be attempted, if all possible objections must
only ignorance and idleness need crawl up- be first overcome. If you will favour my project, I will try the first flight at my own
on the ground."
rekindled the prince's desire of hazard. I have considered the structure of
This hint
passing the mountains. Having seen what all volant animals, and find the folding conthe mechanist had already performed, he tinuity of the bat's wings most easily acwas willing to fancy that he could do more; commodated to the human form. Upon
yet resolved to inquire farther before he this model I shall begin my task to-morsuffered hope to afflict him by disappoint- row; and, in a year, expect to tower into
ment. "I am afraid," said heto the artist, the air beyond the malice and pursuit of
"that your imaginati-n prevails over your man. But I will work only on this condiskill, and that you now tell me rather what tion, that the art shall not bedivulged, and
you wish than what you know. Every ani. that you shall not require me to make wings
mal has his element assigned him; the forany but ourselves."
"Why," said Rasselas, " should you envy
birds have the air, and man and beasts
the earth."-" So," replied the mechanist, others so great an advantage ? All skill
"fishes have the water, in which yet beasts ought to be exerted for universal gooa;
can swim by nature, and man by art. He every man has owed much to others, and
But his original curiosity was not yet
abated; he resolved to obtain some knowledge of the ways of men. His wish still
continued, but his hope grew less. He
ceased to survey any longer the walls of his
prison, and spared to search by new toils
for interstices which he knew could not be
found, yet determined to keep his design always in view, and lay hold on .any expe.
lient that time should offer.

it

8

RASSELAS.

ought to repay the kindness that he has re- 1 This inundation confined all the princes
ceived."
to domestic amusements; and the attention
" If men were all virtuous," returned the of Rasselas was particularly seized by a poartist, " I should with great alacrity teach em, which Imlac rehearsed, upon the vari.
them to fly. But what would be the secu- ous conditions of humanity. He commandrity of the good if the bad could at pleasure ed the poet to attend him in his apartment,
invade them from the sky ? Against an ar- and recite his verses a second time; then,
my sailing through the clouds, neither entering into familiar talk, he thought himwalls, mountains, nor seas, could afifr se- self happy in having found a man who
curity. flight of northern savages might knew the world so well, and could so skil.
A
hover in the wind, and light with irresisti- fully paint the scenes of life.He asked a
ble violence upon the capital of a fruitful thousand questions about things, to which,
region. Even this valley, the retreat of though common to all other mortals his conprinces, the abodeof happiness, might be finement from childhood had kept him a
violated by the sudden descent of some of stranger. The poet pitied his ignorance,
the naked nations that swarm on the coast and loved his curiosity, and entertained him
of the southern sea i"
from day to day with novelty and instrucThe prince promised secrecy, and waited tion, so that the prince regretted the neces.
for the performance, not wholly hopeless of sity of sleep, and longed till the morning
success. He visited the work from time to should renew his
pleasure.
time, observed its progiss, and remarked
As they were sitting together, the prince
many ingenious contrivances to facilitate commanded Imlap to relate his history, and
motion, and unite levity with strength. to telby what accident he was forced, or
The artist was every day more certain that by what otive induced, to close his life in
he should leave vultures and eagles
behind the happy valley. As he was going to behim, and the contagion of his confidence gin his narrative, Rasselas was called to a
seized upon the prince. In a year the wings concert, and obliged to restrain his curiosiwere finished; anO, on a morning appoint- ty till the evening.
ed, the make.r appeared furnished for flight
on a little promontory : he waved his pinions a while to gather air, then leaped from
his stand, and in an instant dropped into
CHAP. VIII.
the lake. His wings, which were of no use
in the air, sustained him in the water ; and
The history Imlac.
of
the prince drew him to land half dead with
terror and vexation.
THE close of the day is, in the regions of
the torrid zone, the only season of diversion
and entertainment, and it was therefore
midnight before the music ceased and the
CHAP. VII.
princesses retired. Rasselas then called for
h'3 companion, and required him to begin
finds a Man of Learning.
the story of his life.
The Prince
" Sir," said Imlac, "my history will not
be long : the life that is devoted to knowTHE prince was not much afflicted by this ledge passes silently away, and is very little
disaster, having suffered himself to hope for diversified by events. 'o talk in public, to
a happier event only because he had no think in solitude, to read and to hear, to
other means of escape in view. He still inquire and answer inquiries, is the busipersisted in his design to leave the happy ness of a scholar. He wanders about the
valley by the first opportunity.
world withoutpomp or terror, and is neither
His imagination was now at a stand; he known nor valued but by men like himself
had no prospect of entering into the world;
" I was born in the kingdom of Goiama,
and, notwithstanding all his endeavours to at no great distance from the fountain o
support himself, discontent, by degrees, the Nile. My father was a wealthy merpreyed upon him; and he began again to chant, who traded between the inland
lose his thoughts in sadness, when the rainy countries of Africa and the ports of the
season, which in these countries is periodi- Red Sea. He was honest, frugal, and dilical, made it inconvenient to wander in the gent, but of mean sentiments, and narrow
woods.
comprehension ; he desired to be rich,
only
The rain continued longer and with more and to conceal his riches, lest he should be
violence than had ever been known: the spoiled by the governors of the province."
clouds broke on the surrounding moun" Surely," said the prince, " my father
tains, and the torrents streamed into the must be negligent of his charge, if any
plain on every side, till the cavern was too man in his dominions dares take that
narrow to discharge the water. The lake which belongs to another. Does he not
overflowed its banks, and all the level of the know that kinga are accountable for injus.
valley was covered with the inundation, tice permitted as well as done? If I were
The eminence on which the palace was emperor, not the meanest of my subjects
built, and some other spots of rising
ground, should be oppressed with impunity. My
were all that the eye could now discover, blood boils when I am told that a merThe herds and flocks left the pasture, and chant durst not enjoy his honest gains for
both the wild beasts and the tame retreated fear of losing them by the rapacity of
to the mountains,
power. Name the governor wh a robbed

RASSELAS.
the people, that I may declare his crimes fifth part, and you see how diligence and
parsimony have increased it. This is your
to the emperor !"
" Sir," said Imlac,
your ardour is the own, to waste or to improve. If you
natural effect of virtue animated by youth : squander it by negligence or caprice, you
the time will come when you will acquit must wait for my death before you will be
your father, and perhaps hear with less rich ; if in four years you double your
impatience of the governor. Oppression stock, we will thenceforward let subordi.
is, in the Abissinian dominions, neither nation cease, and live together as friends
frequent nor tolerated; but no form of and partners: for he shall be always equal
government has been yet discovered, by with me, who is equally skilled in the art of
which cruelty can be wholly prevented. growing rich.
" We laid our money upon camels, conSubordination supposes power on one part
and subjection on the other; and if power cealed in bales of cheap goods, and trabe in the hands of men, it will sometimes velled to the shore of the Red Sea. When
be abused. The vigilance of the supreme I cast my eye on the expanse of waters,
magistrate may do much, but much will my heart bounded like that of a prisoner
still remain undone. He can never know escaped, I felt an unextinguishable curioall the crimes that are committed, and sity kindle in my mind, and resolved to
snatch this opportunity of seeing the mancan seldom punish all that he knows."
" This," said the prince, " I do not un- ners of other nations, and of learning sciderstand: but I had rather hear thee than ences unknown in Abissinia.
dispute. Continue thy narration."
" I remembered that my father had
My father," proceeded Imlac, " ori- obliged me to the improvement of my
ginally intended that I should have no stock, not by a promise, which I ought not
other education than such as might qualify to violate, but by a penalty, which I was at
me for commerce; and discovering in me liberty to incur; and therefore determined
great strength of memory and quickness of to gratify my predominant desire, and, by
apprehension, often declared his hope that drinking at the fountain of knowledge, to
I should be some time the richest
man in quench the thirst of curiosity.
" As I was supposed to trade without
Abissinia."
" Why," said the prince, " did thy fa- connection with my father, it was easy for
ther desire the increase of his wealth, me to become acquainted with the master
when it was already greater than he durst of a ship, and procure a passage to some
discover or enjoy ? I am unwilling to other country. I had no motives of choice
doubt thy veracity, yet inconsistencies can- to regulate my voyage. It was sufficient
for me, that, wherever I wandered, I
not both be true."
" Inconsistencies," answered Imlac, should see a country which I had not seen
" cannot both be right; but, imputed to before. I therefore entered a ship bound
my
man, they may both be true. Yet diversi- for Surat, having left a letter for father
ty is not inconsistency. My father might declaring my intention."
expect a time of greater security. However, some desire is necessary to keep life
in motion ; and he, whose real wants are
CHAP. IX.
supplied, must admit those of fancy."
This," said the prince, " I can in
The Histors Imlac continued.
of
some measure conceive. I repent that I
interrupted thee."
" With this hope," proceeded Imlac, " WHEN I first entered upon the world of
" he sent me to school: but when I had waters, and lost sight of land, I looked
once found the delight of knowledge, and round about me in pleasing terror, and
felt the pleasure of intelligence and the thinking my soul enlarged by the boundless
pride of invention, I began silently to de- prospect, imagined that I could gaze around
riches, and determined to disappoint for ever without satiety; but, in a short
spise
the purposts of my father, whose grossness time, I grew weary of looking on barren
of conception raised my pity. I was uniformity, where I could only see again
twenty years old before his tenderness what I had already seen. I then descendwould expose me to the fatigue of travel; ed into the ship, and doubted for a while
in which time I had been instructed, by whether all my future pleasures would not
successive masters, in all the literature of end, like this, in disgust and disappointmy native country. As every hour taught ment. Yet surely, said I, the ocean and
me something new, I lived in a continual the land are very different; the only vacourse of gratifications ; but, as I ad- riety of water is rest and motion, but the
vanced towards manhood, I lost much of earth has mountains and valleys, deserts
the reverence with which I had been used and cities; it is inhabited by men of difto look on my instructors; because, when ferent customs and contrary opinions; and
the lessons were ended, I did not find them I may hope to find variety in life, though
I should miss it in nature.
wiser or better than common men.
" With this thought I quieted my mind;
" At length my father resolved to initiate me in commerce; and, opening one of and amused myself during the voyage,
his subterranean treasuries, counted out sometimes by learning from the sailors the
ten thousand pieces of gold. This, young art of navigation, which I have never
man, said he, is the stock with which you practised, and sometimes by forming
must negotiate. I began with less than a schemes for my conduct in different situa.

c"

10

RASSELAS.

tions, in not one of which I have been ever -ence, and showed no tokens of shame or
placed.
sorrow.
" I was almost weary of my naval
" They then urged their request with
amusements, when we safely landed at the offer of a bribe; but what I would not
Surat. I secured my money, and purchas- do for kindness I would not do for money,
ing some commodities for show,.joined my- and refused them; not because they had
self to a caravan that was passing into the injured me, but because I would not enable
inland country. My companions, for some them to injure others; for I knew they
reason or other, conjecturing that I was would have made use of my credit to cheat
rich, and, by my inquiries and admiration, those who should buy their wares.
finding that I was ignorant, considered me
" Having resided at Agra till there was
as a novice whom they had a right to no more to be learned, I travelled into Per.
cheat, and who was to learn, at the usual sia, where I saw many remains of ancient
expense, the art of fraud. They exposed magnificence, and observed many new ac.
me to the theft of servants and the exac- commodations of life. The Persians are
tion of officers, and saw me plundered upon a nation eminently social, their as,
and
false pretences, without any advantage to semblies afforded me daily opportunities
themselves, but that of rejoicing in the su- of remarking characters and manners, and
periority of their own knowledge."
of tracing human nature through all its
" Stop a moment," said the prince; " is variations.
there such depravity in man, as that he
" From Persia I passed into Arabia,
should injure another without benefit to where I saw a nation pastoral and warlike;
himself? I can easily conceive that all are who lived without anysettled habitation,
pleased with superiority; but your igno- whose wealth is their flocks and herds, and
rance was merely accidental, which, being who have carried on, through ages, an heneither your crime nor your folly, could reditary war with mankind, though they
afford them no reason to applaud them- neither covet nor envy their possessions."
selves; and the knowledge which they had,
and which you wanted, they might as effectually have shown by warning, as betraying you."
CHAP. X.
"Pride," said Imlac, " is seldom delicate; it will please itself with very mean Indlac's History continued. A Dissertation
advantages; and envy feels not its own
upon Poetry.
happiness but when it may be compared
with the misery of others. They were my " WHEREVER I went, I found that poetry
enemies because they grieved to think me was considered as the highest learning,
rich, and my oppressors because they de- and regarded with a veneration somewhat
lighted to find me weak."
approaching to that which man would pay
" Proceed," said the prince; " I doubt to angelic nature. And yet it fills me with
not of the facts which you relate, but im- wonder, that, in almost all countries, the
agine that you impute them to mistaken most ancient poets are considered as the
motives."
best; whether it be that every other kind
" In this company," said Imlac, " I ar- iof knowledge is an acquisition gradually
rived at Agra, the capital of Indostan, the attained, and poetry is a gift conferred at
city in which the Great Mogul commonly once; or that the first poetry of every naresides. I applied myself to the language of tion surprised them as a novelty, and re.
the country, and in a few months was abl i tained the credit by consent which it reto converse with the learned men; some ceived by accident at first; or whether, as
of whom I found morose and reserved, and the province of poetry is to describe nature
others easy and communicative: come and passion, which are always the same,
were unwilling to teach another what they the firstwriters took possession of the most
had with difficulty learned themselves; striking objects for description and the
and some showed that the end of their most probable occurrences for fiction, and
studies was to gain the dignity of instruct- left nothing to those that followed them
ing.
but transcription of the same events, and
STo the tutor of the young princes I new combinations of the same images.
recommended myself so much, that I was Whatever be the reason, it iscommonly
presented to the emperor as a man of un- observed that the early writers are in poscommon knowledge. The emperor asked session of nature, and their followers of
me many questions concerning my country art; that the first excel in strength and inand my travels; and though I cannot now vention, and the latter in elegance and rerecollect any thing that he uttered above fmiement.
the power of a common man, he dismissed
" I was desirous to add my name to this
me astonished at his wisdom, and ena- illustrious fraternity. I read all the poets
moured of his goodness.
of Persia and Arabia, and was able to re" My credit was now so high, that the peat by memory the volumes that are susmerchants with whom I had travelled ap- pended in the mosque of Mecca. But I
plied to me for recommendations to the la- soon found that no man was ever great by
dies of the court. I was surprised at their imitation. My desire of excellence imconfidence of solicitation, and gently re- pelled me to transfer my attention to naproached them with their practices on the ture and to life. Nature was to be my subtoad. They heard me with cold indiffer- ject, and men to be my auditors. I could

RASSELAS.
never describe what I had not seen; I
could not hope to move those with delight
or terror, whose interests and opinions I
did not understand.
" Being now resolved to be a poet, I saw
every thing with a new purpose; my
sphere of attention was suddenly magnifled; no kind of knowledge was to be overlooked. I ranged mountains and deserts
for images and resemblances, and pictured
upon my mind every tree of the forest and
flower of the valley. I observed with equal
care the crags of the rock and the pinnacles of the palace.-Sometimes I wandered
along the mazes of the rivulet, and sometames watched the changes of the summer
clouds.-To a poet nothing can be useless.
Whatever is beautiful, and whatever is
dreadful, must be familiar to his imagination: he must be conversant with all that
is awfully vast or elegantly little. The
plants of the garden, the animals of the
wood, the minerals of the earth, and meteors of the sky, must all concur to store
his mind with inexhaustible variety; for
every idea is useful for the enforcement or
decoration of moral or religious truth; and
he who knows most will have most power
of diversifying his scenes, and of gratifying
his reader with remote allusions and unexpected instruction.
" All the appearances of nature I was
therefore careful to study; and every
country which I have surveyed has contributed something to my poetical powers."
" In so wide a survey," said the prince,
" you must surely have left much unobserved. I have lived till now within the
circuit of the mountains, and yet cannot
walk abroad without the sight of something
which I had never beheld before, or never
heeded."
" The business of a poet," said Imlac,
" is to examine, not the individual, but
the species ; to remark general properties
and large appearances: he does not number
the streaks of the tulip, or describe the different shades of the verdure of the forest,
He is to exhibit in his portraits of nature
such prominent and striking features as
recal the original to every mind; and must
neglect the minuter discriminations, which
one may have remarked, and another have
neglected, for those characteristics which
are alike obvious to vigilance and carelessmess.
"But the knowledge of nature is only
half the task of a poet; he must be acquainted likewise with all the modes of
life His character requires that he estimate the happiness and misery of every
condition; observe the power of all the
passions in all their combinations ; and
trace the changes of the human mind, as
they are modified by various institutions
and accidental influences of climate or custom from the sprightliness of infancy to
the despondence of decrepitude. He must
divest himself of the prejudices of his age
and country; he must consider right and
wrong in their abstracted and invariable
state; he must disregard present laws and
opinions, and rise to general and transcen-

11

dental truths, which will always be the
same: he must, therefore, content himself
with the slow progress of his name; contemn the praise of his own time, and com.
mit his claims to the justice of posterity
He must write as the interpreter of nature, and the legislator of mankind, and
consider himself as presiding over the
thoughts and manners of future genera
tions, as a being superior to time and
place.
l"
His labour is lot yet at an end: he
must know many languages and many sciences ; and, that his styie may be worthy
of his thoughts, must, by incessant prac.
tice, familiarise to himself every delicacy
of speech and grace of harmony."

CHAP. XI.
Imlac's Narrative continued. A Hint on
Pilgrimage.
I.MLACnow felt the enthusiastic fit, and
was proceeding to aggrandize his own profession, when the prince cried out," Enough ! thou hast convinced me that
no human being can ever be a poet. Pro.
ceed with thy narration."
" To be a poet," said Imlac, " is indeed
very difficult." " So difficult," returned
the prince, " that I will at present hear no
more of his labours. Tell me whither you
went when you had seen Persia."
" From Persia," said the poet, " I tra.
velled through Syria, and for three years
resided in Palestine, where I conversed
with great numbers of the northern and
western nations of Europe ; the nations
which are now in possession of all
power and all knowledge; whose armies are
irresistible, and whose fleets command the
remotest parts of the globe. When I compared these men with the natives of our own
kingdom and those that surround us, they
appeared almost another order of beings.
In their countries it is difficult to wish for
any thing that may not be obtained; a
thousand arts, of which we never heard,
are continually labouring for their convenience and pleasure : and whatever their
own climate has denied them is supplied by
their commerce."
"
"By what means," said the prince, are
the Europeans thus powerful ? or why,
since they can so easily visit Asia and Africa for trade or conquest, cannot the Asiatics
and Africans invade their coasts, plant co..
lonies in their ports, and give laws to their
natural princes ? The same wind that carries them back would bring us thither."
" They are more powerful, sir, than we,
answered Imlac, "because they are wise ;
knowledge will always predominate over
ignorance, as man governs the other animals. But why their knowledge is more
than ours, I know not what reason can be
given but the unsearchable will of the Supreme Being."
"When," said the prince with a sigh,
"shall I be able to visit Palestine, and

12

RASSELAS.

mingle with this mighty confluence of nations? Till that happy moment shall arrive, let me fill up the time with such representations as thou canst give me. I am
not ignorant of the motive that assembles
such numbers in that place, and cannot but
consider it as the centre of wisdom and piety, to which the best and wisest men of
every land must be continually resorting"
"There are some nations," said Imlac,
' that send few visitants to Palestine; for
many numerous and learned sects in Europe concur to censure pilgrimage as superstitious, or deride it as ridiculous."
"You know," said the prince, " how little my life has made me acquainted with
diversity of opinions : it will be too long to
hear the arguments on both sides ; you,
that have considered them, tell me the
result."
"Pilgrimage," said Imlac, "like many
other acts of piety, may be reasonable or
superstitious, according to the principles
apon which it is performed. Long jourleys in search of truth are not commanded. Truth, such as is necessary to the regulation of life, is always found where it is
honestly sought. Changeofplace is no natural cause of the increase of piety, for it
inevitably produces dissipation of mind.
Yet, since men go every day to view the
fields where great actions have been performed, and return with stronger impressions of the event, curiosity of the same
kind may naturally dispose us to view that
country whence our religion had its beginning ; and I believe no man surveys those
awful scenes without some confirmation of
holy resolutions. That the Supreme Being
may be more easily propitiated in one
place than in another, is the dream of idle superstition ; but that some places may operate
upon our own minds in an uncommon
manner, is an opinion which hourly experience will justify. He who supposes that
his vices may be more successfully combated in Palestine will, perhaps, find himself
mistaken ; yet he may go thither without
folly : he who thinks they will be more freely
pardoned, dishonours at once his reason and
religion."
"These," said the prince, "are European distinctions. I will consider them another time.
What have you found to be
the effect of knowledge ? Are those nations
happier than we ?"
There is so much infelicity," said the
poet, "in the world, that scarce any man
has leisure from his own distresses to estimate the comparative happiness of others.
Knowledge is certainly one of the means of
pleasure, as is confessed by the natural desire
which every mind feels of increasing its
ideas. Ignorance is mere privation, by
which nothing can be produced; it is a vacuity in which the soul sits motionless and
torpid for want of attraction : and, without
knowing why, we always rejoice when we
learn, and grieve when we forget. I am
therefore inclined to conclude, that if nothing counteracts the natural consequence
of learning, we grow more happy as our
minds take a wider range.

"In enumerating the particular comforts
of life, we shall find many advantages on
the side of the Europeans.
They cure
wounds and diseases with which we languish and perish. We suffer inclemencies
of weather which they can obviate. They
have engines for the despatch of many laborious works, which we must perform by
manual industry. There is such communication between distant places, that one
friend can hardly be said to be absent from
another. Their policy removes all public inconveniences: they have roads cut through
their mountains, and bridges laid upon
their rivers. And, if we descend to the
privacies of life, their habitations are more
commodious, and their possessions are more
secure."
" They are surely happy," said the
prince, "who have all these conveniences,
of which I envy none so much as the facility with which separated friends interchange
their thoughts."
"The Europeans," answered Imlac, "are
less unhappy than we, but they are not happy. Human life is every where a state in
which much is to be endured, and little to
be enjoyed."

CHAP. XII.
The Story of Imlac continued.
" I AM not willing," said the prince, " to
suppose that happiness is so parsimoniously
distributed to mortals; nor can I believe
but that, if I had the choice of life, I should
be able to fill every day with pleasure. I
would injure no man, and should provoke
no resentments : I would relieve every distress, and should enjoy the benedictions of
gratitude. I would choose my friends
among the wise, and my wife among the
virtuous ; and therefore should be in no
danger from treachery or unkindness. My
children should, by my care, be learned and
pious, and would repay to my age what
their childhood had received. What would
dare to molest him who might call on every
side to thousands enriched by his bounty,
or assisted by his power? And why should
not life glide away in the soft reciprocation
of protection and reverence? All this may
be done without the help of European re
finements, which appear by their effects to
be rather specious than useful. Let us leave
them, and pursue our journey."
" From Palestine," said Imlac," I passed
through many regions of Asia; in the more
civilized kingdoms as a trader, and among
the barbarians of the mountains as a pil-.
grim. At last I began to long for my native country, that 1 might repose, after my
travels and fatigues, in the places where I
had spent my earliest years, and gladden
my old companions with the recital of my
adventures. Often did I figure to myself
those with whom I had sported away the
gay hours of dawning life, sitting round me
in its evening, wondering at my tales, and
listening to my counsels.

RASSELAS.
"' When this thought had taken possession of my mind, I considered every moment as wasted which did not bring me
nearer to Abissinia.
I hastened into
Egypt, and, notwithstanding my impa.
tience, was detained ten months in the contemplation of its ancient magnificence, and
in inquiries after the remains of its ancient
learning. I found in Cairo a mixture of all
nations; some brought thither by the love
of knowledge, some by the hope of gain,
many by the desire of living after their own
manner without observation, and of lying
hid in the obscurity of multitudes: for in a
city populous as Cairo, it is possible to obtain at the same time the gratifications of
society, and the secrecy of solitude.
"From Cairo I travelled to Suez, and
embarked on the Red Sea, passing along the
coast till I arrived at the port from which
I had departed twenty years before. Here
I joined myself to a caravan and re-entered
my native country.
"I now expected the caresses of my
kinsmen, and the congratulations of my
friends; and was not without hope that my
father, whatever value he had set upon
riches, would own with gladness and pride
a son who was able to add to the felicity and
honour of the nation. But I was soon convinced that my thoughts were vain. My
father had been dead fourteen years, having
divided his wealth among my brothers, who
were removed to some other provinces. Of
my companions, the greater part was in the
grave: of the rest, some could with difficul.
ty remembei me, and some considered me
as one corrupted by foreign manners.
" A man used to vicissitudes is not easily
dejected. I forgot, after a time, my disappointment, and endeavoured to recommend
myself to the nobles of the kingdom ; they
admitted me to their tables, heard my story,
and dismissed me. I opened a school, and
was prohibited to teach. I then resolved to
sit down in the quiet of domestic
and
addressed a lady that was fond of my
conversation, but rejected my suit because
my father was a merchant.
"Wearied at last with solicitation and
repulses, I resolved to hide myself for ever
from the world, and depend no longer on
the opinion or caprice of others. I waited
for the time when the gate of the happy
valley should open, that I might bid farewell to hope and fear : the day came; my
performance was distinguished by favour,
and I resigned myself with joy to perpetual
confinement."
" Hast thou here found happiness at
last ?" said Rasselas. "Tell me without
reserve; art thou content with thy condition ? or dost thou wish to be again wandering and inquiring ? All the inhabitants
of this valley celebrate their lot, and, at
the annual visit of the emperor, invite
others to partake of their felicity."
"Great prince," said Imlac, " I shall
speak the truth : I know not one of all your
attendants who does not lament the hour
when he entered this retreat. I am less
unhappy than the rest, because I have a
mind replete with images, which I can

life,

13

vary and combine at pleasure.
I can
amuse my solitude by the renovation of the
knowledge which begins to fade from my
memory, and by recollection of the acci.
dents of my past life. Yet all this ends in
the sorrowful consideration that my acquirements are now useless, and that none
of my pleasures can be again enjoyed. The
rest, whose minds have no impression but
of the present moment, are either corroded
by malignant passions, or sit stupid in the
gloom of perpetual vacancy."
" What passions can infest those," said
the prince," who haveno rivals? We are
in a place where impotence precludes malice, and where all envy is repressed by
community of enjoyments."
" There may be community, " said Im
lac, "of material possessions, but there can
never be community of love or of esteem.
It must happen that one will please more
than another: he that knows himself despised will always be envious; and still more
envious and malevolent if he iscondemned
to live in the presence of those who despise
him. The invitations, by which they allure
others to a state which they feel to be
wretched, proceed from the natural malignity of hopeless misery. They are weary
of themselves, and of each other, and expect
to find relief in new companions. They envy the liberty which their folly has forfeited, and would gladly see all mankind imprisoned like themselves.
" From this crime, however, I am wholly free. No man can say that he is wretched by my persuasion. I look with pity on the
crowds who are annually soliciting admission to captivity, and wish that it were
lawful for me to warn them of their dan-

ger."

" My dear Imlac," said the prince, " I
will open to thee my whole heart. I have
long meditated an escape from the happy
valley. I have examined the mountain on
every side, but find myself insuperably
barred: teach me the way to break my
prison; thou shalt be the companion of my
flight, the guide of my rambles, the part
ner of my fortune, and my sole director in
the choice of life."
" Sir," answered the poet, "your escape
will be difficult, and, perhaps, you may
soon repent your curiosity. The world,
which you figure to yourself smooth and
quiet as the lake in the valley, you will find
a sea foaming with tempests, and boiling
with whirlpools; you will be sometimes
overwhelmed by the waves of violence, and
sometimes dashed against the rocks of
treachery. Amidst wrongs and frauds,
competitions and anxieties, you will wish
a thousand times for these seats of quiet,
and willingly quit hope to be free from
fear."
" Do not seek to deter me from my purpose," said the prince : " I am impatient
to see what thou hast seen; and since thou
art thyself weary of the valley, it is evident that thy former state was better than
this. Whatever be the consequence of my
experiment, I am resolved to judge with
mine own eyes of the various conditions

of

14

RIASSELAS.

where they resolved to make their expertment.
Imlac procured instruments proper to
hew stone and remove earth, and they fell
to their work on the next day with more
eagerness than vigour. They were present.
ly exhausted by their efforts, and sat down
to pant upon the grass. The prince, for
a moment, appeared to be discouraged
" Sir," said his companion, " practice will
enable us to continue our labour for a
CHAP. XIII.
longer time: mark, however, how far we
have advanced, and you will find that our
Passelasdiscovers the means of Escape.
toil will sometime have an end. Great
THE prince now dismissed his favourite to works are performed not by strength, but
rest, but the narrat"" of wonders and no- perseverance : yonder palace was raised by
velties filled his miid with perturbation. single stones, yet you see its height and
He revolved all that he had heard, and spaciousness. He that shall walk with viprepared innumerable questions for the gour three hours a day, will pass in seven
years a space equal to the circumference of
morning.
Much of his uneasiness was now re- the globe."
They returned to th .r work day after
moved. He had a friend to whom he
could impart his thoughts, and whose ex- day, and, m a short time, found a fissure in
could assist him in his designs. the rock, which enabled them to pass far
is heart was no longer condemned to with very little obstruction. This Rasselas
swell with silent vexation. He thought considered as a good omen. " Do not dis.
that even the happy valley might be en- turb your mind," said Imlac, "with other
dured with such a companion, and that, if hopes or fears than reason may suggest : if
they could range the world together, he you are pleased with prognostics of good,
you will be terrified likewise with tokens of'
should have nothing further to desire.
In a few days the water was discharged, evil, and your whole life will be a prey to
and the ground dried. The prince and superstition. Whatever facilitates our work
Imlac then walked out together, to con- is more than an omen; it is a cause of sucverse without the notice of the rest. The cess.This is one of those pleasing surprises
prince, whose thoughts were always on the which often happen to active resolution.
wing, as he passed by the gate, said, with Many things difficult to design prove easy
a countenance of sorrow, " Why art thou to performance.
so strong, and why is man so weak ?"
" Man is not weak," answered his companion; " knowledge is more than equiCHAP. XIV.
valent to force. The master of mechanics
Rasselas and Imlac receive an unexpected
laughs at strength. I can burst the gate,
Visit.
but cannot do it secretly. Some other expedient must be tried."
As they were walking on the side of the THEY had now wrought their way to the
mountain, they observed that the conies, middle, and solaced their toil with the apwhich the rain had driven from their bur- proach of liberty, when the prince, coming
rows, had taken shelter among the bushes, down to refresh himself with air, found his
and formed holes behind them, tending sister Nekayahli standing at the mouth of
confusupwards in an oblique line. " It has been the cavity. He started, and stood
the opinion of antiquity," said Imlac, ed, afraid to tell his design, and yet hopeless
" chat human reason borrowed many arts to conceal it. A few moments determined
from the instinct of animals; let us, there- him to repose on her fidelity, and secure her
fore, not think ourselves degraded by secrecy by a declaration without reserve.
" Do not imagine," said the princess,
learning from the cony. We may escape
by piercing the mountain in the same di- " that I came hither as a spy : I had long
rection. We will begin where the sum- observed from my window that you and
mit hangs over the middle part. and labour Imlac directed your walk every day toupward till we shall issue out beyond the wards the same point, but I did not sup.pose you had any better reason for the pre.
prominence."
The eyes of the prince, when he heard ference than a cooler shade, or more frag.
this proposal, sparkled with joy. The ex- rant bank ; nor followed you with any other
design than to partake of your conversation.
ecution was easy, and the success certain.
No time was now lost. They hastened Since, then, not suspicion but fondness has
early in the morning to choose a place detected you, let me not lose the advantage
proper for their mine. They clambered of my discovery. I am equally weary of
with great fatigue among crags and bram- confinement with yourself, and not less
bles, and returned without having dis- desirous of knowing what is done or suffer.covered any part that favoured their de- ed in the world. Permit me to fly with you
sign. The second and the third day were from this tasteless tranquillity, which will
spent in the same manner, and with the yet grow more loathsome when you have
same frustration. But on the fourth they left me. You may deny me to accompany
found a small
cavern, concealed by a thicket, you, but cannot hinder me from following."

men, and then to make deliberately my
choice of life."
" I am afraid," said Imlac, " you are
hindered by stronger restraints than my
persuasions; yet, if your determination is
fixed, I do not counsel you to despair.
Few things are impossible to diligence and
skill."

perience

RASSELAS.
The prince, who loved Nekayah above
his other sisters, had no inclination to refuse her request, and grieved that he had
lost an opportunity of showing his confidence by a voluntary communication. It
was therefore agreed, that she should leave
the valley with them; and that, in the
mean time, she should watch lest any
other straggler should, by chance or curiosity, follow them to the mountain.
Atlength theirlabour was at an end: they
saw light beyond the prominence, and, issuing to the top of the mountain, beheld
the Nile, yet a narrow current, wandering
beneath them.
The prince looked round with rapture,
anticipated all the pleasures of travel, and
in thought was already transported beyond
his father's dominions. Imlac, though very
joyful at his escape, had less expectation of
pleasure in the world, which he had before
tried, and of which he had been weary.
Rasselas was so much delighted with a
wider horizon, that he could not soon be
persuaded to return into the valley.
He
informed his sister that the way was now
open, and that nothing now remained but
to prepare for their departure.
-

CHAP. XV.

Princess

19

They travelled forward by easy journey
being all unaccustomed to toil and difficu.ty, and knowing that, though they might
be missed, they could not be pursued. In
a few days they came into a more populous
region, where Imlac was diverted with the
admiration which his companions expressed
at the diversity of manners, stations, and
employments. Their dress was such a
might not bring upon them the suspicion
of having any thing to conceal; yet the
prince, wherever he came, expected to be
obeyed, and the princess was frighted, because those who came into her presence did
not prostrate themselves. Imlac was forced
to observe them
great vigilance, lest
they should betray
ir rank by their unusual behaviour, and detained them several
weeks in the first village, to accustom them
to the sight of common mortals.
By degrees the royal wanderers were
taught to understand that they had for a
time laid aside their dignity, and were to
expect only such regard as liberality and
courtesy could procure. And Imlac, haying, by many admonitions, prepared them
to endure the tumults of a port, and the
ruggedness of the commercial race, brought
them down to the sea-coast.
The prince and his sister, to whom every
thing was new, were gratified equally at all
places, and therefore remained for some
months at the port without any inclination
pass further.
their stay, because Imlac was content with
he did not think it safe
to expose them, unpractised in the world,
to the hazards ofa foreign country.
At last he began to fear lest they should
be discovered, and proposed to fix a day for
their departure. They had no pretensions
to judge for themselves, and referred the
whole scheme to his direction. HIe therefore took passage in a ship to Suez, and
when the time came, with great difficulty
prevailed on the princess to enter theves.sel. They had a quick and prosperous
voyage; and from Suez travelled by land
to Cairo.

Valleyto

and Princess leave the Valley,
The PrinceThe Prince
end
leave the
and see many Wonders.

THE prince and princess had jewels suffi.
cient to make them rich whenever they
came into a place of commerce, which, by
Imlac's direction, they hid in their clothes,
and, on the night of the next full moon, all
left the valley. The princess was followed
only by a single favourite, who did not
know whither she was going.
They clambered through the cavity, and
began to go down on the other side. The
princess and her maid turned their eyes towards every part, and seeing nothing to
bound their prospect, considered themselves
in danger of being lost in a dreary vacuity.
They stopped and trembled. " I am almost
afraid," said the princess, "to begin a journey, of which I cannot perceive an end, and
to venture into this immense plain, where
I may be approached on every side by men
whom I never saw." The prince felt nearly the same emotions, though he thought it
more manly to conceal them.
Imlac smiled at their terrors, and encouraged them to proceed; but the princess
continued irresolute till she had been imperceptibly drawn forward too far to return.
In the morning they found some shep.herds in the field, who set some milk and
fruits before them. The princess wondered
that she did not see a palace ready for her
reception, and a table spread with delicacies ; but being faint and hungry, she drank
the milk and ate the fruits, and thought
them of a higher flavour than the products
of the valley.

CHAP. XVI.
They enter Cairo,and find every Man happy.
As they approached the city, which filled
the strangers with astonishment, "This,"
said Imlac to the prince, "is the place
where travellers and merchants assemble
from all corners of the earth. You will here
find men of every character, and every occupation. Commerce is here honourable:
I will act as a merchant, and you shall live
as strangers, who have no other end of travel than curiosity ; it will soon be observed
that we are rich : our reputation will procure us access to all whom we shall desire to
know; you will see all the conditions of humanity, and enable yourselves at leisure to
make your choice of life."
They now entered the town, stunned by
the noise, and offended bythe crowds. In
struction had not yet so prevailed over haB

16

RASSELAS.

bit, that they wondered to see them- commonly reciprocal. We are long before
but
selves pass undistinguished along the streets, we are convinced that happiness is never to
and met by the lowest of the people without be found, and each believes it possessed by
reverence or notice. The princess could others, to keep alive the hope of obtaining
not at first bear the thought of being level- it for himself. In the assembly, where you
led with the vulgar, and for some time con- passed the last night, there appeared such
tinued in her chamber, where she was sprightliness of air, and volatility of fancy,as
served by her favourite, Pekuah, as in the might have suited beings of a higher order,
palace of the valley.
formed to inhabit serener regions, inaccesImlac, who understood traffic, sold part sible to care or sorrow: yet, believe me,
ofthejewels the next day, and hired a house, prince, there was not one who did not
which he adorned with such magnificence, dread the moment when solitude should
that liewas immediately considered as a deliver him to the tyranny of reflection."
merchant of great wealth.
His politeness
" This," said the prince, "may be true of
attracted many acq
tance, and his gene- others, since it is true of me; yet, whatever
rosity made him c
by many depen- be the general infelicity of man, one condidants. His compal
, not being able to tion is more happy than another, and wismix in the conversation, could make no dis- dom surely directs us to take the least evil
covery of their ignorance or surprise, and in the choice of life."
were gradually initiated in the world as
" The causes of good and evil," answered
they gained knowledge of the language.
Imlac, "are so various and uncertain, so
Theprince had, by frequent lectures, been often entangled with each other, so divertaught the use and nature of money ; but sified byvarious relations, and somuch subthe ladies could not, for a long time, comrn- ject to accidents which cannot be foreseen,
prehend what the merchants did with small that he who would fix his condition upon
pieces of gold and silver, or why things of incontestable reasons of preference must
so little use should be received as an equi- live and die inquiring and deliberating."
valent to the necessaries of life.
"But surely," said Rasselas, "the wise
They studied the language two years, men, to whomwe listen with reverenceand
while Imlac was preparing to set before wonder, chose thatmode of life for themthem the various ranks and conditions of selves which they thought most likely to
mankind. He grew acquainted with all make them happy."
who had any thing uncommon in their for" Very few," said the poet, "live by
tune or conduct. He frequented the volup. choice. Every man is placed in the present
tuous the frugal, the idle and thebusy, condition by causes which acted without
and
the merchants and the men of learning.
his foresight, and with which he did not alThe prince being now able to converse ways willingly co-operate; and therefore
with fluency, and having learned the cau- you will rarely meet one who does not
tion necessary to be observed in his inter- think the lot of his neighbour better than
course with strangers, began to accompany his own."
Imlac to places of resort, and to enter into
" I am pleased to think," said the prince,
all assemblies, that he might make his " that my birth has given me at least one
choice of life.
advantage over others, by enabling me to
For some time he thought choice need- determine for myself. I have here the
less, because all appeared to him really hap- world before me; Iwill review it at leisre :
py. Wherever he went he met gayety and surely happiness is somewhere to be found."
kindness, and heard the song of joy or the
laugh of carelessness. He began to believe
that the world overflowed with universal
plenty, and that nothing was withheld either
CHAP. XVII.
from want or merit; that every hand
showered liberality, and every heart melted
The P rince
associates
young Men of
with benevolence: "and who then," says
and Gayety.
he, "will be suffered to be wretched ?"
Imlac permitted the pleasing delusion, RASSELAS rose next day, and resolved to
and was unwilling to crush the hope of in- begin his experiments upon life. "Youth,"
experience : till one day, having sat a while cried he, "is the time of gladness : I will
silent, " I know not," said the prince, join myself to the young men, whose only
"what can be the reason that I am more business is to gratify their desires, and
unhappy than any of our friends. I see them whose time is all spent in a succession of
perpetually and unalterably cheerful, but enjoyments."
feel my own mind restless and uneasy. I
To such societies he was readily admit
am unsatisfied with those pleasures which ted; but a few days brought him back
I seem most to court. I live in the crowds weary and disgusted. Their mirth was
of jollity, not so much to enjoy company as without images, their laughter without
to shun myself, and am only loud and merry motive ; their pleasures were gross and
to conceal my sadness."
sensual, in which the mind had no part;
"Every man," said Imlac, " may, by their conduct was at once wild and mean :
examining his own mind, guess what pass- they laughed at order and at law, but the
es in the minds of others: when you feel frown of power dejected, and the eye of
that your own gayety is counterfeit, it may wisdom abashed them.
justly lead you to suspect that of your
The prince soon concluded that he should
companions not to be sincere. Envy is never be happy in a course of life of which

Spirit

with

RASSELAS.
he was ashamed. He thought it unsuitable to a reasonable being to act without a
plan,and to be sad or cheerful only by
chance. "Happiness," said he, "must be
something solid and permanent, without
fear and without uncertainty."
But his young companions had gained so
much of his regard by their frankness and
courtesy, that he could not leave them
without warning and remonstrance. " My
friends," said he, " I have seriously considered our manners and our prospects, and
find that we have mistaken our own interest.The first years of man must make
provision for the last. He that never thinks,
never can be wise. Perpetual levity must
end in ignorance ; and intemperance,
though it may fire the spirits for an hour,
will make life short and miserable. Let us
consider that youth is of no long duration,
and that in mature age, when the enchant
ments of fancy shall cease, and phantoms of
delight dance no more about us, we shall
have no comforts but the esteem of wise
men, and the means of doing
good. Let
us, therefore, stop, while to stop is in our
power: let us live as men who are sometime to grow old, and to whom it will be
the most dreadful of all evils to count their
past years by follies, and to be reminded of
their former luxuriance of health only by the
maladies which riot has produced."
They stared awhile in silence one upon
another, and, at last drove him away by a
general chorus of continued laughter.
The consciousness that his sentiments
were just, and his intention kind, was
scarcely sufficient to support him against
the horror of derision. But he recovered
his tranquillity, and pursued his search.

17

transitory lustre, irregular in its motion and
delusive in its direction.
He then communicated the various precepts given from time to time for the conquest of passion, and displayed the happiness of those who had obtained the impor.
tant victory, after which man is no longer
the slave of fear, nor the fool of hope; is
no more emaciated by envy, inflamed by
anger, emasculated by tenderness, or depressed 'by grief; but walks on calmly
through the tumults or privacies of life, as
the sun pursues alike his course through
the calm or the stor
sky.
He enumerated
examples of heroes
immovable by pa
easure, who looked
with indifference o
ose modes or accidents to which the vulgar give the names
of good and evil. He exhorted his hearers
to lay aside their prejudices, and arm themselves against the shafts of malice or misfortune, by invulnerable patience : concluding, that this state only was happiness,
and that this happiness was in every one's
power.
Rasselas listened to him with the veneration due to the instructions of a superior
being, and, waiting for him at the door,
humbly implored the liberty of visiting so
great a master of true wisdom. The lecturer hesitated a moment, when Rasselas
put a purse of gold into his
hand, which he
received with a mixture of joy and wonder.
" I have found," said the prince, at his
return to Imlac, "a man who can teach all
that is necessary to be known; who, from
the unshaken throne of rational fortitude,
looks down on the scenes of life changing
beneath him. He speaks, and attention
watches his lips. He reasons, and conviction closes his periods. This man shall be
my future guide: I will learn his doctrines,
CHAP. XVIII.
and imitate his life."
"Be not too hasty," said Imlac, " to
The Princefinds a wise and happy man.
trust, or to admire, the teachers of morality : they discourse like angels, but they live
As he was one day walking in the street, like men."
he saw a spacious building, which all were,
Rasselas, who could not conceive how
by the open doors, invited to enter; he any man could reason so forcibly without
followed the stream of people, and found it feeling the cogency of his own arguments,
a hall or school of declamation, in which paid his visit in a few days, and was denied
professors read lectures to their auditory, admission. He had now learned the power
He fixed his eye upon a sage raised above of money, and made his way by a piece of
the rest, who discoursed with great energy gold to the inner
apartment, where he found
on the government of the passions. His the philosopher in a room half darkened,
look was venerable, his action graceful, with his eyes misty, and his face pale.
his pronunciation clear, and his diction ele- " Sir," said he, "you are come at a time
gant. He showed, with great strength of when all human friendship is useless;
sentiment, and variety of illustration, that what I suffer cannot be remedied, what I
human nature is degraded and debased, have lost cannot be supplied.
My daughwhen the lower faculties predominate over ter, my only daughter, from whose tender
the higher; that when fancy, the parent ness I expected all the comforts of my
of passion, usurps the dominion of the mind, age, died last night of a fever. My views
nothing ensues but the natural effect of un. my purposes, my hopes are at an end : I
lawful government, perturbation and con- am now a lonely being, disunited from
fusion; that she betrays the fortresses of society."
the intellect to rebels, and excites her chil"Sir," said the prince, "mortality is an
dren to sedition against their lawful sove- event by which a wise man can never be
reign. He compared reason to the sun, of surprised: we know that death is always
which the light is constant, uniform, and near, and it should therefore always be exating; and fancy to a meteor, of bright but pected."-" Young man," answered the
2
B

RASSELAS

18

philosopher, " you speak like one that has
never felt the pangs of separation." "Have
you then forgot the precepts," said Rasse, " which you so powerfully enforced?
Has wisdom no strength to arm the heart
against calamity ? Consider that external
things are naturally variable, but truth and
reason are always the same."
" What
comfort," said the mourner, "can truth and
reason afford me ?-of what effect are they
now, but to tell me, that my daughter will
not be restored ?"
The prince, whose humanity would not
suffer him to insult
ery with reproof,
went away, convi
f the emptiness
of rhetorical soun
the inefficacy of
polished periods and
led sentences.

CHAP. XIX.
A Glimpse of PastoralLife.
HE was still eager upon the same inquiry ;
and having heard of a hermit, that lived
near the lowest cataract of the Nile, and
filled the whole country with the fame of
his sanctity, resolved to visit his retreat,
and inquire whether that felicity, which
public life could not afford, was to be found
in solitude; and whether a man, whose
age and virtue made him venerable, could
teach any peculiar art of shunning evils, or
enduring them.
Imlac and the princess agreed to accompany him; and, after the necessary preparations, they began their journey. Their
way lay through the fields, where shepherds
tendedtheir flocks, and the lambs were
playing upon the pasture. "This," said
the poet, 'is the life which has been often
celebrated for its innocence and quiet ; let
us pass the heat of the day among the
shepherds' tents, and know whether all our
searches are not to terminate in pastoral
simplicity."
The proposal pleased them, and they induced the shepherds, by small presents, and
familiar questions, to tell their opinion of
their own state: they were so rude and ignorant, so littleable to compare the good with
the evil of the occupation, and so indistinct
in their narratives and descriptions, that
very little could be learned from them.
But it was evident that their hearts were
cankered with discontent; that they considered themselves as condemned to labour
for the luxury of the rich, and looked up
with stupid malevolence toward those that
were placed above them.
The princess pronounced with vehemence, that she would never suffer these envious savages to be her companions, and
that she should not soon be desirous of seeing anymore specimens of rustic happiness ;
but could not believe that all the accounts
of primeval pleasures were fabulous, and
was in doubt whether life had any thing
that could be justly preferred to the placid
gratifications of fields and woods.
She
oped that the time would come, when,

with a few virtuous and elegant corn.
panions, she should gather flowers planted
by her own hands, fondle the lambs of her
own ewe, and listen without care, among
brooks and breezes, to one of her maidens
reading in the shade.

CHAP. XX.
The Danger of Prosperity.
ON the next day they continued their jour.
ney, till the heat compelled them to look
round for shelter. At a small distance they
saw a thick wood, which they no sooner
entered than they perceived that they were
approaching the habitations of men. The
shrubs were diligently cut away to open
walks where the shades were darkest; the
boughs of opposite trees were artificially interwoven, seats of flowery turf were raised
in vacant spaces, and a rivulet, that wantonedalong the side ofa winding path, had
its banks sometimes opened into small basins, and its stream sometimes obstructed
by little mounds of stone heaped together to
increase its murmurs.
They passed slowly through the wood,
delighted with such unexpected accommodations, and entertained each other with
conjecturing what, or who, he could be, that
in those rude and unfrequented regions had
leisure and art for such harmless luxury.
As they advanced they heard the sound
of music, and saw youths and virgins dancing in the grove; and, going still further,
beheld a stately palace built upon a hill,
surrounded withwoods. The laws of eastern hospitality allowed them to enter, and
the master welcomed them like a man liberal and wealthy.
He was skilful enough in appearances
soon to discern that they were no common
guests, and spread his table with magnifi.
cence. The eloquence ofImlac caught his
attention, and the lofty courtesy of the
princess excited his respect. When they
offered to depart, he entreated their stay,
and was the next day more unwilling to dis.
miss them than before. They were easily
persuaded to stop, and civility grew up in
time to freedom and confidence.
The prince now saw all the domestics
cheerful, and all the face of nature smilins
round the place, and could not forbear to
hope that he should find here what he was
seeking; but when he was congratulating
the master upon his possessions, he answered with a sigh, "My condition has indeed
the appearance of happiness, but appearances are delusive. My prosperity puts my
life in danger; the Bassa of Egypt is my
enemy, incensed only by my wealth and popularity.
I have been hitherto protected
against him by the princes of the country:
but, as the favour of the great is uncertain,
I know not how soon my defenders may be
persuaded to share the plunder with the
Bassa. I have sent my treasures into a distant country, and, upon the first alarm, am

RASSELAS
prepared to follow them. Then will my
enemies riot in my mansion, and enjoy the
gardens which I have planted."
They all joined in lamenting his danger,
and deprecating his exile ; and the princess
was so much disturbed with the tumult of
grief and indignation, that she retired to
her apartment. They continued with their
kind inviter a few days longer, and then
went to find the hermit.

f

CHAP. XXI.
The Happiness of Solitude.
History.

19

himself to that solitude which you have re.
commended by your example."
" I have indeed lived fifteen years in solitude," said the hermit, " but have no desire that my example should gain any imitators. In my youth I professed arms, and
was raised by degrees to the highest military rank. I have traversed wide countries
at the head of my troops, and seen many
battles and sieges. At last, being disgusted
by the preferments ofa younger officer, and
feeling that my vigour was beginning to
decay, I resolved to close my life in peace,
having found the w d full of snares, discord, and misery
ad once escaped from
the pursuit of th
y by the shelter of
this cavern, and
re chose it for my
final residence. I employed artificers to
form it into chambers, and stored it with
all that I was likely to want.
" For some time after my retreat, I rejoiced like a tempest-beaten sailor at his entrance into the harbour, being delighted
with the sudden change of the noise and
hurry of war to stillness and repose. When
the pleasure of novelty went away, I employed my hours in examining the plants
which grow in the valley, and the minerals
which I collected from the rocks. But that
inquiry is now grown tasteless and irk.
some. I have been for sometime unsettled
and distracted: my mind is disturbed with
a thousand perplexities of doubt, and vani.
ties of imagination, which hourly prevail
upon me, because I have no opportunities
of relaxation or diversion. I am sometimes
ashamed to think that I could not secure
myself from vice but by retiring from the
exercise of virtue, and begin to suspect
that I was rather impelled by resentment
than led by devotion into solitude. My
fancy riots in scenes of folly; and I lament
that I have lost so much and have gainedso
little. In solitude, if I escape the example of
bad men, I want likewise the counsel and
conversation of the good. I have been long
comparing the evils with the advantages of
society, and resolve to return into the world
to-morrow. The life of a solitary man wig
be certainly miserable, but not certainly
devout."
They heard his resolution with surprise,
but, after a short pause, offered to conduct
him to Cairo. He dug up a considerable
treasure which he had hid among the rocks,
and accompanied them to the city, on
which, as he approached it, he gazed with
rapture.

The Hermit's

THEY came, on the third day, by the direction of the peasants, to the hermit's cell :
it was a cavern in the side of a mountain,
overshadowed with palm trees : at such a
distance from the cataract, that nothing
more was heard than a gentle uniform
murmur, such as composes the mind to pensive meditation, especially when it was assisted by the wind whistling among the
branches.
The first rude essay of nature
had been so much improved by human labour that the cave contained several apartments appropriated to different uses, and
often afforded lodging to travellers, whom
darkness or tempests happened to overtake.
The hermit sat on a bench at the door, to
enjoy the coolness of the evening. On one
side lay a book with pens and paper, on the
other mechanical instruments of various
kinds. As they approached him unregarded, the princess observed that he had not
the countenance of a man that had found
or could teach the way to happiness.
They saluted him with great respect,
which he repaid like a man not unaccustomed to the forms of courts. " My children," said he, "if you have lost your
way, you shall be willingly supplied with
such conveniences for the night as this ca.
vern will afford. I have all that nature requires, and you will not expect delicacies in
a hermit's cell."
They thanked him; and, entering, were
pleased with the neatness and regularity of
the place. The hermit set flesh and wine
before them, though he fed only upon fruits
and water. His discourse was cheerful
without levity, and pious without enthusiasm. He soon gained the esteem of his
guests, and the princess repented her hasty
censure.
At last Imlac began thus : " I do not now
wonder that your reputation is so far extended; we have heard at Cairo of your
wisdom, and came hither to implore your direction for this young man and maiden in
the choice of life."
"To him that lives well," answered the
hermit, "every form of life is good; nor
can I give any other rule for choice, than
to remove from all apparent evil."
" He will most certainly remove from
evil," said the prince, "who shall devote

CHAP. XXII.
The Happiness of a Life led according to
Nature.
RASSELASwent often to an assembly of
learned men, who met at stated times to
unbend their minds and compare their opi.
nious. Their manners were somewhat
coarse, but their conversation was instru.
tire, and their disputations acute, though

20

RA SSELAS.

sometimes too violent, and often continued
till neither controvertist remembered upon
what question they began. Some faults
were almost general among them: every
one was pleased to hear the genius or knowledge of another depreciated.
In this assembly Rasselas was relating his
interview with the hermit, and the wonder
with which he heard him censure a course
of life which he had so deliberately chosen,
and so laudably followed. The sentiments
of the hearers were various. Some were of
opinion, that the folly of his choice had
been justly punished by condemnation to perne of the youngest
petual perseveranc
vehemence, proamong them, with
. Some talked of
nounced him a hyp
the right of society to the labour of individuals, and considered retirement as a desertion
of duty. Others readily allowed, that there
was a time when the claims of the public were
satisfied, and when a man might properly
sequester himself, to review his life, and
purify his heart.
One, who appeared more affected with
the narrative than the rest, thought it likely, that the hermit would, in a few
years, go back to his retreat, and, perhaps,
if shame did not restrain, or death intercept him, return once more from his retreat into the world. " For the hope of
happiness," said he, " is so strongly impressed, that the longest experience is not
able to efface it. Of the present state,
whatever it be, we feel, and are forced to
confess, the misery; yet, when the same
state is again at a distance, imagination
paints it as desirable. But the time will
surely come when desire will no longer be
our torment, and no man shall be wretched
but by his own fault."
"This,"said a philosopher, who had heard
him with tokens of great impatience, "is the
present condition of a wise man. The time
is already come, when none are wretched
but by their own fault. Nothing is more
idle than to inquire after happiness, which
nature has kindly placed within our reach,
The way to be happy, is to live according
to nature, in obedience to that universal
and unalterable law with which every
heart is originally impressed; which is not
written on it by precept, but engraven by
destiny; not instilled by education, but infused at our nativity. He that lives according to nature will suffer nothing from
the delusions of hope or importunities of
desire; he will receive and reject with
equability of temper; and act or suffer as
the reason of things shall alternately prescribe. Other men may amuse themselves
with subtle definitions, or intricate ratiocination. Let them learn to be wise by easier means: let them observe the hind of the
forest, and the linnet of the grove: let them
consider the life of animals, whose motions
are regulated by instinct; they obey their
guide, and are happy. Let us, therefore, at
length, cease to dispute, and learn to live :
throw away the encumbrance of precepts,
which they who utter them with so much
pride and pomp do not understand, and

carry with us this simple and intelligible
maxim, That deviation from nature is de.
viation from happiness."
When he had spoken, he looked round
him with a placid air, and enjoyed the consciousness of his own beneficence. " Sir,"
said the prince, with great modesty, "as I,
like all the rest of mankind, am desirous of
felicity, my closest attention has been fixed
upon your discourse: I doubt not the truth
of a position which a man so learned has
so confidently advanced. Let me only
know what it is to live according to nature."
" When I find young men so humble
and so docile," said the philosopher, " I
can deny them no information which my
studies have enabled me to afford. To live
according to nature, is to act always with
due regard to the fitness arising from the
relations and qualities of causes and effects;
to concur with the great and unchangeable
scheme of universal felicity; to co-operate
with the general disposition and tendency
of the present system of things."
- The prince soon found that this was one
of the sages whom he should understand
less as he heard him longer. He therefore
bowed and was silent; and the philosopher,
supposing him satisfied, and the rest van.
quished, rose up and departed with the
air of a man that had co-operated with the
present system.

CHAP. XXIII.
The Prince and his Sister divide between
them the Work of Observation.
RASSELAs returned home full of reflections,
doubting how to direct his future steps. Of
the way to happiness he found the learned
and simple equally ignorant; but, as he
was yet young, he flattered himself that he
had time remaining for more experiments,
and farther inquiries.-He communicated
to Imlac his observations and his doubts,
but was answered by him with new doubts,
and remarks that gave him no comfort.
He therefore discoursed more frequently
and freely with his sister, who had yet the
same hope with himself, and always assisted
him to give some reason why, though he
had been hitherto frustrated, he might sue,
teed at last.
" We have hitherto," said she, "known
but little of the world; we have never yet
been either great or mean. In our own
country, though we had royalty, we had no
power; and in this we have not yet seen
the private recesses of domestic peace. Imlac favours not our search, lest we should
in time find him mistaken. We will divide
the task between us: you shall try what is
to be found in the splendour of courts, and
I will range the shades of humbler life.
Perhaps command and authority may be
the supreme blessings, as they afford the
most opportunities of doing good : or, perhaps, what this world can give may be

RASSELAS.
found in the modest habitations of middle
fortune : too low for great designs, and too
high for penury and distress."

CHAP. XXIV.
nhe Princeexamines the happiness of High
Stations.
applauded the design, and apRASSELAS
peared next day with a splendid retinue at
the court of the Bassa. He was soon distinguished for his magnificence, and admitted, as a prince whose curiosity had
brought him from distant countries, to an
intimacy with the great officers, and frequent conversation with the Bassa himself.
He was at first inclined to believe, that
the man must be pleased with his own condition, whom all approached with reverence, and heard with obedience, and who
had the power to extend his edicts to a
whole kingdom-" There can be no pleasure," said he, " equal to that of feeling at
once the joy of thousands all made happy
by wise administration. Yet, since, by the
law of subordination, this sublime delight
can be in one nation but the lot of one, it is
surely reasonable to think that there is
some satisfaction more popular and accessible, and that millions can hardly be subjected to the will of a single man, only to fill
his particular breast with incommunicable
content."
These thoughts were often in his mind,
and he found no solution of the difficulty.
But as presents and civilities gained him
more familiarity, he found that almost
every man who stood high in employment
hated all the rest, and was hated by them,
and that their lives were a continual succession of plots and detections, stratagems
and escapes, faction and treachery. Many
of those who surrounded the Bassa were
sent only to watch and report his conduct :
every tongue was muttering censure, and
every eye was searching for a fault.
At last the letters of revocation arrived,
the Bassa was carried in chains to Constan.
tinople, and his name was mentioned no

more.

" What are we now to think of the prerogatives of power?" said Rasselas to his
sister : " is it without any efficacy to good?
or, is the subordinate degree only dangerous, and the supreme safe and glorious ?
Is the Sultan the only happy man in his dominions? or is the Sultan himself subject
to the torments of suspicion, and the dread
of enemies ?"
In a short time the second Bassa was
deposed. The Sultan that had advanced
him was murdered by the Janizaries, and
his successor had other views or different
favourites.,
.......

i1
CHAP. XXV.

The Princesspursues her Inquiry with mars
Diligence than Success.
THE princess, in the meantime, insinuated
herself into many families: for there are
few doors through which liberality, joined
with good humour, cannot find its way.
The daughters of many houses were airy
and cheerful; butNekayah had been too long
accustomed to the conversation of Imlac
and her brother, to be much pleased with
childish levity and prattle which had no
meaning. She found their thoughts nar.
row, their wishes lo. and their merriment
p'.asures, poor as
often artificial.
be preserved pure,
they were, could
but were imbittered by petty competitions
and worthless emulation. They were always jealous of the beauty of each other;
of a quality to which solicitude can add nothing, and from which detraction can take
nothing away. Many were in love with
triflers like themselves, and many fancied
that they were in love when in truth they
were only idle. Their affection was not
fixed on sense or virtue, and therefore seldon ended but in vexation. Their grief,
however, like their joy, was transient;
every thing floated in their mind uncon.
nected with the past or future, so that one
desire easily gave way to another, as a second stone, cast into the water, effaces and
confounds the circles of the first.
With these girls she played as with inoffensive animals, and found them proud
of her countenance, and weary of her company.
But her purpose was to examine more
deeply, and her affability easily persuaded
the hearts that were swelling with sorrow
to discharge their secrets in her ear; and
those whom hope flattered, or prosperity
delighted, often courted her to partake
their pleasure.
The princess and her brother commonly
met in the evening in a private summerhouse on the banks of the Nile, and related to each other the occurrences of the
day. As they were sitting together, the
princess cast her eyes upon the river that
lowed before her. " Answer," said she,
"great father of waters, thou that rollest
thy floods through eighty nations, to the
invocations of the daughter of thy native
king : tell me if thou waterest, through all
thy course, a single habitation from which
thou dost not hear the murmurs of complaint."
" You are then," said Rasselas, " not
more successful in private houses than I
have been in courts." " I have, since the
last partition of our provinces," said the
princess, " enabled myself to enter familiarly into many families, where there was
the fairest showe of prosperity and peace,
and know not one house that is not haunted by some fury that destroys their quiet.
" I did not seek ease among the poor,
because I concluded that there it could not
be found. But I saw many poor whom I
had supposed to live in affluence. P]Terty

i2

R ASSELAS

has, in large cities, very different appear.
ances; it is often concealed in splendour,
and often in extravagance. It is the care
ofa very great part of mankind to conceal
their indigence from the rest: they support themselves by temporary expedients,
and every day is lost in contriving for the
morrow.
" This, however, was an evil, which,
though frequent, I saw with less pain, because I could relieve it. Yet some have
refused my bounties; more offended with
my quickness to detect their wantL, chan
pleased with my readiness to succour them :
and others, whose exigencies compelled
them to admit my yildness, have never
been able to forgiv their benefactress.
Many, however, have been sincerely grate.
ful without the ostentation of gratitude, or
the hope of other favours."

CHAP. XXVI.
The Princess continues her Remarks upon
PrivateLife.
NEKAYAH,perceiving her brother's attention fixed, proceeded in her narrative.
" In families, whether there is or is not
poverty, there is commonly discord: if a
kingdom be, as Imlac tells us, a great family, a family likewise is a little kingdom,
torn with factions and exposed to revolutions. An unpractised observer expects
the love of parents and children to be constant and equal: but this kindness seldom
continues beyond the years of infancy : in
a short time the children become rivals to
their parents. Benefits are allayed by reproaches, and gratitude debased by envy.
" Parents and children seldom act in concert; each child endeavours to appropriate
the esteem or fondness of the parents, and
the parents with yet less temptation, betray
each other to their children; thus some
place their confidence in the father, and
some in the mother, and by degress the
house is filled with artiices and feuds.
"The opinions of children and parents, of
the young and the old, are naturally opposite, by the contrary etffects of hope and despondence, of expectation and experience,
without crime or folly on either side. The
colours of life in youth and age appear different, as the face of nature in spring and
winter. And how can children credit the
assertions of parents, which their own
eyes show them to be false?
" Few parents act in such a manner as
much to enforce their maxims by the credit
of their lives. The old man trusts wholly
to slow contrivance and gradual progression; the youth expects to force his way by
genius, vigour, and precipitance. The old
man pays regard to riches, and the youth
reverences virtue. The old man deifies
prudence ; the youth commits himself to
magnanimity and chance. The young man,
who intends no ill, believes that none is intended, and therefore acts with openness
and candour : but his father, having suffer-

ed the injuries of fraud, is impelled to suppect, and too often allured to practise it.
Age looks with anger on the temerity of
youth, and youth with contempt on the
scrupulosity of age. Thus parents and
children, for the greatest part, live on, to
love less and less : and, if those whom nature has thus closely united are the tor
ments of each other, where shall we look
for tenderness and consolation ?"
" Surely," said the prince, "you must
have been unfortunate in your choice of
acquaintance: I am unwilling to believe
that the most tender of all relations is thus
impeded in its effects by natural necessity."
"Domestic discord," answered she, " is
not inevitably and fatally necessary; but
yet it is not easily avoided. We seldom
see that a whole family is virtuous: the
good and the evil cannot well agree; and
the evil can yet less agree with one another : even the virtuous fall sometimes to
variance, when their virtues are of different
kinds, and tending to extremes. In general, those parents have most reverence who
most deserve it; for he that lives well
cannot be despised.
" Many other evils infest private life.
Some are the slaves of servants whom they
have trusted with their affairs. Some are
kept in continual anxiety by the caprice of
rich relations, whom they cannot please,
and dare not offend. Some husbands are
imperious, and some wives perverse : and,
as it is always more easy to do evil than
good, though the wisdom or virtue of one
can very rarely make many happy, the
folly or vice of one may make many miserable."
" If such be the general effect of mar.
riage," said the prince, " I shall for the
future think it dangerous to connect my
interest with that of another, lest I should
be unhappy by my partner's fault."
" I have met," said the princess, " with
many who live single for that reason; but
I never found that their prudence ought to
raise envy. They dream away their time
without friendship, without fondness, and
are driven to rid themselves of the day, for
which they have no use, by childish amusements or vicious delights. They act as beings under the constant sense of some known
inferiority, that fills their minds with ran.
cour, and their tongues with censure.
They are peevish at home, and malevolent
abroad; and, as the outlaws of human na.
ture, make it their business and their pleasure to disturb that society which debars
them from its privileges. To live without
feeling or exciting sympathy, to be fortunate without adding to the felicity of others,
or afflicted without tasting the balm of pity,
is a state more gloomy than solitude: it is
not retreat, but exclusion from mankind.
Marriage has many pains, but celibacy has
no pleasures."
" What then is to be done ?" said Rasselas; "the more we inquire the less we can
resolve. Surely he is most likely to please
himself that has no other inclination to
regard."

RASSELAS
pectations, of him whose abilities are ado.
quate to his employments, who sees with his
own eyes the whole circuit of his influence,
who chooses by his own knowledge all
TH conversation had a short pause. The whom he trusts, and whom none are
prince having considered his sister's obser- tempted to deceive by hope or fear ? Surevation, told her, that she had surveyed life ly he has nothing to do but to love and to
with prejudice, and supposed misery where be loved, to be virtuous and to be happy."
" Whether perfect happiness would be
it.
she did notfind " Your narrative," says
he, "throws yet a darker gloom upon the procured by perfect goodness," said Neprospects of futurity: the predictions of kayah, " this world will never afford an
Imlac were but faint sketches of the evils opportunity of deciding. But this, at least,
I have been lately may be maintained, that we do not always
painted by Nekayah.
convinced that quiet is not the daughter of find visible happiness in proportion to visi.
grandeur, or of power : that her presence ble virtue. All natural, and almost all po.
is not to be bought by wealth, nor enforced litical evils, are incident alike to the bad
by conquest. It is evident, that as any and good: they are confounded in the miman acts in a wider compass, he must be sery of a famine, and not much distinguishexposed to opposition from enmity, or mis- ed in the fury of a faction ; they sink tocarriage from chance : whoever has many gether in a tempest, and are driven togeto please or to govern must use the minis- ther from thei country by invaders. All
try of many agents, some of whom will be that virtue can afford is quietness of conwicked, and some ignorant; by some he science, and a steady prospect of a happier
will be misled, and by others betrayed. If state: this may enable us to endure cala.
he gratifies one, he will offend another ; mity with patience ; but, remember that
those that are not favoured will think patience must suppose pain."
themselves injured ; and, since favours can
be conferred but upon few, the greater
number will be always discontented."
CHAP. XXVIII.
" The discontent," said the princess,
"which is thus unreasonable, I hope that
I shall always have spirit to despise, and Rasselas and Nelcayah continue their Con-.
versation.
you power to repress."
"Discontent," answered Rasselas, "will
not always be without reason under the " DEAR princess," said Rasselas, "you fall
most just and vigilant administration of into the common errors of exaggeratory
public affairs. None, however attentive, can declamation, by producing, in a familiar
always discover that merit which indigence disquisition, examples of national calamior faction may happen to obscure; and ties, and scenes of extensive misery, which
none, however powerful, can always re- are found in books rather than in the world,
ward it. Yet, he that sees inferior desert and which, as they are horrid, are ordained
advanced above him will naturally impute to be rare. Let us not imagine evils which
that preference to partiality or caprice ; we do not feel, nor injure life by misreand, indeed, it can scarcely be hoped that presentations. I cannot bear that queruany man, however magnanimous by na- lous eloquence which threatens every city
ture, or exalted by condition, will be able with a siege like that of Jerusalem, that
to persist for ever in fixed and inexorable makes famine attend on every flight of lojustice of distribution: he will sometimes custs, and suspends pestilence on the wing
indulge his own affections, and sometimes of every blast that issues from the south.
" On necessary and inevitable evils which
those of his favourites; he will permit some
to please him who can never serve him : he overwhelm kingdoms at once, all disputawill discover in those whom he loves quali- tion is vain: when they happen, they must
ties which in reality they do not possess ; be endured. But it is evident, that these
and to those, from whom he receives plea- bursts of universal distress are more dread.
sure, he will in his turn endeavour to give ed than felt : thousands and ten thousands
it. Thus will recommendations sometimes flourish in youth, and wither in age, withprevail which were purchased by money, or out the knowledge of any other than doby themore destructive bribery of flattery mestic evils, and share the same pleasures
and vexations, whether their kings are
and servility.
"He that hath much to do will do some- mild or cruel, whether the armies of their
thing wrong, and of that wrong must suffer country pursue their enemies, or retreat
the consequences: and if it were possible before them. While courts are disturbed
that he should always act rightly yet when with intestine competitions, and ambassasuch numbers are to judge of his conduct, dors are negotiating in foreign countries,
the bad will censure and obstruct him by the smith still plies his anvil, and the husmalevolence, and the good, sometimes, by bandman drives his plough forward; the
necessaries of life are required and obtained,
mistake.
"The highest stations cannot therefore and the successive business of the season
hope to be the abodes of happiness, which continues to make its wonted revolutions.
" Let us cease to consider what, perhaps,
I would willingly believe to have fled from
thrones, and palaces, to seats of humble pri- may never happen, and what, when it shall
vacy and placid obscurity. For what can happen, will laugh at human speculation.
hinder the satisfaction, or intercept the ex- We will not endeavour to modify the mo
CHAP. XXVII.

Disquisition upon Greatness.

24

RASSELAS.

" How the world is to be peopled," redions of the elements, or to fix the destiny
of kingdoms. It is our business to consider turned Nekayah, " is not my care, and
what beings like us may perform; each need not be yours. I see no danger that
labouring for his own happiness, by pro- the present generation should omit to leave
moting within his circle, however narrow, successors behind them : we are not now
the happiness of others.
inquiring for the world, but for ourselves."
" Marriage is evidently the dictate of nature ; men and women were made to be the
companions of each other; and, therefore,
I cannot be persuaded but that marriage is
CHAP. XXIX.
one of the means of happiness."
"I know not," said .the princess, " wheTh7eDebate on Marriagecontinued.
ther marriage be more than one of the innumerable modes of human misery. When "Tin
good of the whole," says Rasselas,
I see and reckon the various forms of con- " is the same with the good of all its parts,
nubial infelicity, the unexpected causes of If marriage be best for mankind, it must be
lasting discord, the diversities of temper, evidently best for individuals; or a permathe oppositions of opinion, the rude collinent and necessary duty must be the cause
sions of contrary desire where both are of evil, and some must be inevitably sacri.
urged by violent impulses, the obstinate ficed to the convenience of others. In the
contest of disagreeing virtues where both estimate which you have made of the two
are supported by consciousness of good in- states, it appears that the incommodities ot
tention, I am sometimes disposed to think, a single life are, in a great measure, neceswith the severer casuists of most nations, sary and certain, but those of the conjugal
that marriage is rather permitted than ap- state accidental and avoidable. I cannot
proved, and that none, but by the instiga- forbear to flatter myself that prudence and
tion of a passion too much indulged, en- benevolence will make marriage happy.
tangle themselves with indissoluble com- The general folly of mankind is the cause
pact."
of general complaint. What can be ex" You seem to forget," replied Rasselas, pected but disappointment and repen" that you have, even now, represented ce- tance from a choice made in the immaturilibacy as less happy than marriage. Both ty of youth, in the ardour of desire, without
conditions may be bad, but they cannot judgment, withoutforesight, withoutinboth be worst. Thus it happens when quiry after conformity of opinions, similariwrong opinions are entertained, that they ty of manners, rectitude of judgment, or
mutually destroy each other, and leave the purity of sentiment ?
mind open to truth."
"Such is the common process of mar" I did not expect," answered the prin. riage. A youth and maiden meeting by
cess, "to hear that imputed to falsehood, chance, or brought together by artifice, exwhich is the consequence only of frailty. change glances, reciprocate civilities, go
To the mind, as to the eye, it is difficult to home and dream of one another. Having
compare with exactness objects vast in their little to divert attention, or diversify
extent, and various in their parts. When thought, they find themselves uneasy when
we see or conceive the whole at once, we they are apart. and therefore conclude that
readily note the discriminations, and de. thby shall be happy together. They marry,
cide the preference: but of two systems, o, and discover what nothing but voluntary
which neither can be surveyed by any hu- blindness before had concealed; they wear
man being in its full compass of magnitude out life inaltercations, and charge nature
and multiplicity of complication, where is with cruelty.
the woider, that, judging of the whole by
" From those early marriages proceeds
parts, I am alternately affected by one and likewise the rivalry of parents and chil..
the other, as either presses on my memory dren: the son is eager to enjoy the world
or fancy ? We differ from ourselves just before the father is willing to forsake it,
as we differ from each other, when we see and there is hardly room at once for two
only part of the question, as in the multi- generations. The daughter begins to bloom
farious relations of politics and morality; before the manothercan be content to fade,
but when we perceive the whole at once, a, and neither can forbear to wish for the abin numerical computations, all agree in one sence of the other.
judgment, and none ever varies in his
"Surely all these evils may be avoidea' by
opinion."
that deliberation and delay which prudence
" Let us not add," said the prince, "to prescribes to irrevocable choice. In the vathe other evils of life the bitterness of con- riety and jollity of youthful pleastres, life
troversy, nor endeavour to vie with each may be well enough supported without the
other in subtilties of argument. We are help of a partner. Longer time will inemployed in a search of which both are crease experience, and wider views will alequally to enjoy the success, or suffer by the low better opportunities of inquiry and semiscarriage. It is therefore fit that we as- lection : one advantage at least will be cer,.
sist each other. You surely conclude too tain the parents will be visibly older than
;
hastily from the infelicity of marriage their children."
against institution; will not the misery
its
"What reason cannot collect," said Ne.
of life prove equally that life cannot be the kayah, "and what experiment has not yet
gift of Heaven ? The world must be peo taught, can be known only from the report
pled by marriage, or peopled without it."
of others. I have been told that late mar-

R ASSELAS.

25

rlages are not eminently happy. This is a marry late are best pleased with their chilquestion too important to be neglected; and dren, and those who marry early with their
I have often proposed it to those, whose ac- partners."
curacy of remark and comprehensiveness I " The union of these two affections,"
of knowledge made their suffrages worthy said Rasselas, "would produce all that
of regard. They have generally determin- could be wished. Perhaps there is a time
ed, that it is dangerous for a man and wo- when marriage might unite them; a time
man to suspend their fate upon each other neither too early for the father nor too late
at a time when opinions are fixed, and for the husband."
habits are established; when friendships
"Every hour," answered the princess,
have been contracted on both sides, when "confirms my prejudice in favour of the
life has been planned into method, and the position so often uttered by the mouth
mind has long enjoyed the contemplation Imlac, ' That nature sets her gifts on the
Those condi.
right hand and on the left'
of its own prospects.
"It is scarcely possible, that two travel- ditions which flatter hope and attract deling through the world under the conduct sire are so constituted, that as we approach
There are
of chance should have been both directed one we recede from another.
to the same path, and it will not often hap- goods so opposed that we cannot seize both,
pen that either will quit the track which but, by too much prudence, may pass becustom has made pleasing. When the de- tween them at too a great distance to reach
sultory levity of youth has settled into re- either. This is often the fate of long congularity, it is soon succeeded by pride sideration : he does nothing who endeaashamed to yield, or obstinacy delighting to yours to do more than is allowed to humacontend. And even though mutual esteem nity. Flatter not yourself with contrarieproduces mutual desire to please, time it- ties of pleasure. Of the blessings set beself, as it modifies unchangeably the exter- fore you make your choice, and be content.
nal mien, determines likewise the direction No man can taste the fruits of autumn,
of the passions, and gives an inflexible ri- while he is delighting his scent with the
gidity to the manners. Long customs are flowers of the spring: no man can at the
not easily broken ; he that attempts to same time fill his cup from the source and
change the course of his own life very often from the mouth of the Nile."
labours in vain, and how shall we do that
for others which we are seldom able to do
for ourselves ?"
CHAP. XXX.
" But surely," interposed the prince,
" you suppose the chief motive of choice
forgotten or neglected. Whenever I shall Inlac enters and changes the Conversation.
seek a wife, it .shall be my first question,
whether she be willing to be led by reason ?" H-EE Imlac entered, and interrupted them,
" Thus it is," said Nekayah, " that philo- " Imlac," said Rasselas, " I have been taksophers are deceived. There area thousand ing from the princess the dismal history of
familiar disputes which reason never can private life, and am alnost discouraged from
decide; questions that elude investigation, further search."
"It seems to me," said Imlac, "that
and make logic ridiculous; cases where
something must be done, and where little while you are making the choice of life,
can be said. Consider the state of man- you neglect to live. You wander about a
kind, and inquire how few can be supposed single city, which, however large and diverto act upon any occasions, whether small or sified, can now afford few novelties, and
great, with all the reasons of action present forget that you are in a country famous
to their minds. Wretched would be the among the earliest monarchies for the
pair, above all names of wretchedness, who power and wisdom of its inhabitants; a
should be doomed to adjust by reason, country where the sciences first dawned
every morning, all the minute detail of a that illuminate the world, and beyond
domestic day.
which the arts cannot be traced of civil so"Those who marry at an advanced age ciety or domestic life.
will probably escape the encroachments of
"The old Egyptians have left behind
their children; but in diminution of this ad- them monuments of industry and power
vantage, they will be likely to leave them, before which all European magnificence is
ignorant and helpless, to a guardian's mercy: confessed to fade away. The ruins of their
or if that should not happen, they must at architecture are the schools of modern
least go out of the world before they see builders, and from the wonders which time
those whom they love best either wise or has spared, we may conjecture, though ungreat.
certainly, what it has destroyed."
" My curiosity," said Rasselas, "does
"From their children, if theby have less
to fear, they have less also to nope; and not very strongly lead me to survey piles
they lose, without equivalent, the joys of of stone, or mounds of earth; my business
early love, and the convenience of uniting is with man. I came hither not to mineawith manners pliant, and minds susceptible sure fragments of temples, or trace choked
of new impressions, which might wear away aqueducts, but to look upon the various
their dissimilitudes by long cohabitation, scenes of the present world."
"The things that are now before us,"
as soft bodies, by continual attrition, con.
said the princess, " require attention, and
form their surfaces to each other.
" I believe it will be found that those who deserve it. What have I to do with the he.

of

26

RASSELAS.

to learn something of the manners of antiroes or the monuments of ancient timeswith times which never can return, and quity."
The most pompous monument of
form of life was different from
heroes, whose
all that the present condition of mankind Egyptian greatness, and one of the most
bulky works of manual industry," said Imrequires or allows ?"
" To know any thing," returned the lac, " are the pyramids; fabrics raised bepoet, " we must know its effects ; to see fore the time of history, and of which the
men, we must see their works, that we may earliest narratives afford us only uncertain
learn what reason has dictated, or passion traditions. Of these the greatest is still
has incited, and find what are the most standing, very little injured by time."
" Let us visit them to-morrow," said
To judge
powerful motives of action.
rightly of the present, we must oppose it to Nekayah : " I have often heard of the pyramids, and shall not rest till I have seen
the past ; for all judgment is comparative,
and of the future nothing can be known. them, within and without, with my own
The truth is, that no mind is much employ- eyes."
ed upon the present : recollection and anticipation fill up almost all our moments.
Our passions are joy and grief, love and
CHAP. XXXI.
hatred, hope and fear. Of joy and grief,
the past is the object; and the future, of
They visit the Pyramids.
hope and fear: even love and hatred respect the past, for the cause must have
THE resolution being thus taken, they set
been before the effect.
" The present state of things is the con- out the next day. They laid tents upon their
of the former; and it is natural camels, being resolved to stay among the
eequence
to inquire what were the sources of the pyramids till their curiosity was fully satist
good that we enjoy, or the evil that we suf- fled.They travelled gen ly, turned aside
fer. If we act only for ourselves, toneglect to every thing remarkable, stopped from
the study of history is not prudent: if time to time and conversed with the inhawe are intrusted with the care of others, it bitants, and observed the various appearis not just. Ignorance, when it is volunta- ancesof towns ruined and inhabited, os
ry, is criminal: and he may properly oe wild and cultivated nature.
When they came to the great pyramid,
how
charged with evil who refused to learn
they were astonished at the extent of the
he might prevent it.
base, and the height of the top. Imlac ex" T here is nc part of history so generally
useful as that which relates to the progress plained to them the principles upon which
of the human mind, the gradual improve- the pyramidal form was chosen for a fabric
ment of reason, the successive advances of intended to co-extend its duration with
science, the vicissitudes of learning and ig- that of the world : he showed that its granorance, which are the light and darkness dual diminution gave it such stability, as
of thinking beings, the extinction and re- defeated all the common attacks of the elesuscitation of arts, and the revolutions of ments, and could scarcely be overthrown
the intellectual world. If accounts of bat- by earthquakes themselves, the least retles and invasions are peculiarly the busi- sistible of natural violence. A concussion
ness of princes, the useful or elegant arts that should shatter the pyramid would
are not to be neglected; those who have threaten the dissolution of the continent.
They measured all its dimensions, and
kingdoms to govern, have understandings
pitched their tents at its foot. Next day
to cultivate.
" Example is always more efficacious they prepared to enter its interior apartthan precept. A soldier is formed in war, ments, and having hired the common
and a painter must copy pictures. In this, guides, climbed up to the first passage;
when the favourite of the princess, looking
contemplative life has the advantage:
great actions are seldom seen, but the la- into the cavity, stepped back and trembled.
bours of art are always at hand for those " Pekuah," said the princess, " of what
who desire to know what art has been able art thou afraid ?"-" Of the narrow entrance," answered the lady, " and of the
to perform.
" When the eye, or the imagination, is dreadful gloom. I dare not enter a place
struck with any uncommon work, the next which must surely be inhabited by unquiet
transition of an active mind is tothe means souls. The original possessors of these
by which it was performed. Here begins dreadful vaults will start up before us, and
the true use of such contemplation; we en- perhaps shut us in for ever." She spoke,
large our comprehension by new ideas, and and threw her arms round the neck of her
perhaps recover some art lost to mankind, mistress.
" If all your fear be of apparitions," said
ir learn what is less perfectly known in our
own country. At least we compare our the prince, " I will promise you safety :
own with former times, and either rejoice there is no danger from the dead; he that
at our improvements, or, what is the first is once buried will be seen no more."
" That the dead are seen no more," said
motion towards good, discover our deImlac, " I will not undertake to maintain
fects."
"I am willing," said the prince, " to against the concurrent and unvaried testimony of all ages and of all nations. There
see all that can deserve my search."And I," said the princess, "shall rejoice is no people, rude or learned, among whom

27

RASSELAS.
apparitions of the dead are not related and
believed. This opinion, which, perhaps,
prevails as far as human nature is diffused,
could become universal only by its truth :
those that never heard of one another
would not have agreed in a tale which nothing but experience can make credible.
That it is doubted by single cavilers can
very little weaken the general evidence;
and some who deny it with their tongues
confess it by their fears.
" Yet I do not mean to add new terrors
to those which have already seized upon
Pekuah. There can be no reason why
spectres should haunt the pyramid more
than other places, or why they should have
power or will to hurt innocence and purity.
Our entrance is no violation of their privileges; we can take nothing from them ;
how then can we offend them ?"
" My dear Pekuah," said the princess,
" I will always go before you, and Imlac
shall follow you. Remember that you are
the companion of the princess of Abissinia."
" If the princess is pleased that her servant should die," returned the lady, " let
her command some death less dreadful
than enclosure in this horrid cavern. You
know I dare not disobey you; I must go, if
you command me; but, if I once enter, I
never shall come back."
The princess saw that her fear was too
strong for expostulation or reproof, and
embracing her, told her that she should
stay in the tent till their return. Pekuah
was not yet satisfied, but entreated the
princess not to pursue so dreadful a purpose as that of entering the recesses of the
pyramids. " Though I cannot teach
courage," said Nekayah, " I must not
learn cowardice; nor leave at last undone
what I came hither only to do."

CHAP. XXXII.
They enter the Pyramid.
PEKUAn descended to the tents, and the
rest entered the pyramid ; they passed
through the galleries, surveyed the vaults
of marble, and examined the chest in
which the body of the founder is supposed
to have been reposited. They then sat
down in one of the most spacious chambers
to rest awhile, before they attempted to return.
" We have now," said Imlac, " gratifled our minds with an exact view of the
greatest work of man, except the wall of
China.
" Of the wall, it is very easy to assign
the motive. It secured a wealthy and timorous nation from the incursions of barbarians, whose unskilfulness in the arts
made it easier for them to supply their
wants by rapine than by industry, and who
from time to time poured in upon the inhabitants of peaceful commerce, as vultures
descend upon domestic fowl. Their celerity and fierceness made the wall neces-

sary, and their ignorance made it effica.
cious.
" But for the pyramids, no reason has
ever been given, adequate to the cost and
labour of the work. The narrowness of the
chambers proves that it could afford no retreat from enemies, and treasures migh,
have been reposited at far less expense
with equal security. It seems to have been
erected only in compliance with that
hunger of imagination which preys incessantly upon life, and must be always appeased by some employment. Those who
have already all that they can enjoy, must
enlarge their desires. He that has built
for use till use is supplied, must begin to
build for vanity, and extend his plan to the
utmost power of human performance, that
he may not be soon reduced to form another wish.
" I consider this mighty structure as a
monument of the insufficiency of human
enjoyments. A king, whose power is unlimited, and whose treasures surmount all
real and imaginary wants, is compelled to
solace, by the erection of a pyramid, the
satiety of d)minion and tastelessness of
pleasures, and to amuse the tediousness of
declining life, by seeing thousands labouring without end, and one stone, for no
purpose, laid upon another.
Whoever
thou art, that, not content with a moderate
condition, imaginest happiness in royal
magnificence, and dreamest that command
or riches can feed the appetite of novelty
with perpetual gratifications, survey the
pyramids, and confess thy folly!"

CHAP. XXXIII.
The Princessmeets with an unexpected Mis.
fortune.
THEY rose up, and returned through the
cavity at which they had entered; and the
princess prepared for her favourite a long
narrative of dark labyrinths and costly
rooms, and of the different impressions
which the varieties of the way had made
upon her. But when they came to their
train, they found every one silent and dejected: the men discovered shame and fear
in their countenances, and the women
were weeping in their tents.
What had happened they did not try to
conjecture, but immediately inquired.
" You had scarcely entered into the pyramid," said one of the attendants, " when
a troop of Arabs rushed upon us : we were
too few to resist them, and too slow to
escape. They were about to search the
I tents, set us on our camels, and drive us
along before them, when the approach of
some Turkish horsemen put them to flight;
but they seized the lady Pekuah with her
two maids, and carried them away: the
Turks are now pursuing them by our instigation, but I fear they will not be able to
overtake them."
The princess was overpowered with sur.
prise and grief. Rasselas, in the first heat

RASSELAS.

28

of his resentment, ordered his servants to
follow him, and prepared to pursue the
robbers with his sabre in his hand. " Sir,"
said Imlac, " what can you hope from violence or valour? the Arabs are mounted
on horses trained to battle and retreat ; we
have only beasts of burden. By leaving
our present station we may lose the princess, but cannot hope to regain Pekuah."
In a short time the Turks returned,
having not been able to reach the enemy.
The princess burst out into new lamentations, and Rasselas could scarcely forbear
to reproach them with cowardice; but Imlac was of opinion, that the escape of the
Arabs was no addition to their misfortune,
for, perhaps, they would have killed their
captives rather than have resigned them.

CHAP. XXXIV.
They return to Cairowithout Pekuah.
THERE was nothing to be hoped from longer stay. They returned to Cairo, repenting of their curiosity, censuring the negligence of the government, lamenting their
own rashness, which had neglected to procure a guard, imagining many expedients
by which the loss of Pekuah might have
been prevented, and resolving to do something for her recovery, though none could
find any thing proper to be done.
Nekayah retired to her chamber, where
her women attempted to comfort her, by
telling her that all had their troubles, and
that lady Pekuah had enjoyed much happiness in the world for a long time, and
might reasonably expect a change of fortune. They hoped that some good would
befal her wheresoever she was, and that
their mistress would find another friend,
who migh supply her place.
The princess made them no answer; and
they continued the form of condolence,
not much grieved in their hearts that the
favourite was lost.
Next day, the prince presented to the
Bassa a memorial of the wrong which he
had suffered, and a petition for redress,
The Bassa threatened to punish the robbers, but did not attempt to catch them;
nor indeed could any account or description be given by which he might direct the
pursuit,
It soon appeared that nothing would be
done by authority. Governors being accustomed to hear of more crimes than they
can punish, and more wrongs than they
can redress, set themselves at ease by indiscriminate negligence, and presently forget
the request when they lose sight of the petitioner.
Imlac then endeavoured to gain some intelligence by private agents. He found
many who pretended to an exact knowledge of all the haunts of the Arabs, and to
regular correspondence with their chiefs,
and who readily undertook the recovery of
Pekuah. Of these, some were furnished
with money for their journey, and came

back no more; some were liberally paid
for accounts which a few days discovered
to be false. But the princess would not
suffer any means, however improbable to
be left untried. While she was doing something, she kept her hope alive. As one
expedient failed, another was suggested;
when one messenger returned unsuccessful, another was despatched to a different
quarter.
Two months had now passed, and of Pekuah nothing had been heard; the hopes
which they had endeavoured to raise in
each other grew more languid; and the
princess, when she saw nothing more to be
tried, sunk down inconsolable in hopeless
dejection. A thousand times she reproached
herself with the easy compliance by which
she permitted her favourite to stay behind
her. " Had not my fondness," said she,
" lessened my authority, Pekuah had not
dared to talk of her terrors. She ought to
have feared me more than spectres. A severe look would have overpowered her; a
peremptory command would have compelled obedience. Why did foolish indulgence prevail upon me? why did I not
speak, and refuse to hear ?"
" Great princess," said Imlac, " do not
reproach yourself for your virtue, or consider that as blameable by which evil has
accidentally been caused. Your tenderness
for the timidity of Pekuah was generous
and kind.-When we act according to our
duty, we commit the events to Him by
whose laws our actions are governed, and
who will suffer none to be finally punished
for obedience. When, in prospect of some
good, whether natural or moral, we break
the rules prescribed us, we withdraw from
the direction of superior wisdom, and take
all consequences upon ourselves. Man cannot so far know the connection of causes
and events, as that he may venture to do
wrong in order to do right. When we pursue our end by lawful means, we may always console our miscarriage by the hope
of future recompense. When we consult
only our own policy, and attempt to find a
nearer way to good, by overleaping the
settled boundaries of right and wrong, we
cannot be happy even by success, because
we cannot escape the consciousness of our
fault; but if we miscarry, the disappointment is irremediably imbittered. How
comfortless is the sorrow of him who feels
at once the pangs of guilt and the vexation
of calamity, which guilt has brought upon
him!
" Consider, princess, what would have
been your condition, if the lady Pekuah
had entreated to accompany you, and, being compelled to stay in the tents, had been
carried away; or how would you have
borne the thought if you had forced her
into the pyramid, and she had died before
you in agonies of terror."
" Had either hiappened," said Nekayah,
" I could not have endured life till now; I
should have been tortured to madness by
the remembrance of such cruelty, or must
have pined away in abhorrence of myself."

RASSELAS.

29

the world with all its flatteries and deceits,
and will hide myself in solitude, without
any other care than to compose my
thoughts, and regulate my hours by a constant succession of innocent occupations,
till, 'with mind purified from earthly dea
sires, I shall enter into that state, to which
all are hastening, and in which I hope
CHAP. XXXV.
again to enjoy the friendship of Pekuah."
" Do not entangle your mind," said ImThe Princesslanguishesfor want ofPekuah.
lac, " by irrevocable determinations, nor
NEKAYA, being thus reconciled to herself, increase the burden of life by a voluntary
found that no evil is insupportable but that accumulation of misery : the weariness of
which is accompanied with consciousness retirement will continue or increase wheal
of wrong. She was, from that time, de- the loss of Pekuah is forgot. That you
livered from the violence of tempestuous have been deprived of one pleasure is no
sorrow, and sunk into silent pensiveness very good reason for rejection of the rest."
" Since Pekuah was taken from me,"
She sat from
and gloomy tranquillity.
morning to evening recollecting all that said the princess, " I have no pleasure to
had been done or said by her Pekuah, reject or to retain. She that has no one to
treasured up with care every trifle on love or trust, has little to hope. She wants
which Pekuah had set an accidental va- the radical principle of happiness. We may,
lue, and which might recal to mind any perhaps, allow that what satisfaction this
little incident or careless conversation. The world can afford must arise from the consentiments of her whom she now expected junction of wealth, knowledge, and goodto see no more were treasured in her me- ness: wealth is nothing but as it is bemory as rules of life, and she deliberated stowed, and knowledge nothing but as it is
to no other end than to conjecture on any communicated : they must therefore be
occasion what would have been the opinion imparted to others, and to whom could I
now delight to impart them? Goodness
and counsel of Pekuah.
The women by whom she was attended affords the only comfort which can be enknew nothing of her real condition, and joyed without a partner, and goodness may
therefore she could not talk to them but with be practised in retirement."
' How far solitude may admit goodness,
caution and reserve. She began to remit
her curiosity, having great desire to col- or advance it, I shall not," replied Imlac,
no
lect notions which she had no convenience " dispute at present. Remember the conof uttering. Rasselas endeavoured first to fession of the pious hermit. You will wish
comfort, and afterwards to divert her : he to return into the world when the image of
hired musicians, to whom she seemed to your companion has left your thoughts."
listen, but did not hear them; and pro- "That time," said Nekayah, " will never
cured masters to instruct her in various come. The generous frankness, the moarts, whose lectures, when they visited her dest obsequiousness, and the faithful seagain, were again to be repeated. She had crecy of my dear Pekuah, will always be
lost her taste of pleasure, and her ambition more missed, as I shall live longer to see
of excellence. And her mind, though vice and folly."
forced into short excursions, always re"The state of a mind oppressed with a
sudden calamity," said Imlac, "is like
curred to the image of her friend.
Imlac was every morning earnestly en- that of the fabulous inhabitants of the new
joined to renew his inquiries, and was asked created earth, who, when the first night
every night whether he had yet heard of came upon them, supposed that day would
Pekuah; till, not being able to return the never return. When the clouds of sorrow
princess the answer that she desired, he gather over us, we see nothing beyond
was less and less willing to come into her them, nor can imagine how they will be
presence. She observed his backwardness, dispelled: yet a new day succeeded to the
night, and sorrow is never long without a
and commanded him to attend her. "You
are not," said she, " to confound impa. dawn of ease. But they who restrain themtience with resentment, or to suppose that selves from receiving comfort, do as the
I charge you with negligence, because I savages would have done, had they put out
repine at your unsuccessfulness. 1 do not their eyes when it was dark. Our minds,
much wonder at your absence. I know like our bodies, are in continual flux;
that the unhappy are never pleasing, and something is hourly lost, and something
that all naturally avoid the contagion of acquired. To lose much at once is inconmisery. To hear complaints is wearisome, venient to either, but while the vital
alike to the wretched and the happy; for powers remain uninjured, nature will find
who would cloud, by adventitious grief, the the means of reparation. Distance has the
short gleams of gayety which life allows us? same effect on the mind as on the eye; and
or who, that is struggling under his own while we glide along the stream of time,
evils, will add to them the miseries of an- whatever we leave behind us is always
lessening, and that which we approach inother?
" The time is at hand, when none shall creasing in magnitude. Do not suffer life
be disturbed any longer by the sighs of Ne- to stagnate ; it will grow muddy for want of
kayah : my search after happiness is now motion ; commit yourself again to the curst an end. I am resolved to retire from rent of the world; Pekuah will vanish by
" This, at least," said Imlac, " is the
present reward of virtuous conduct, that
no unlucky consequence can oblige us to
repent it."

30

RASSELAS.

degrees; you will meet in your way some
other favourite, or learn to diffuse yourself
in general conversation."
" At least," said the prince, "do not
despair before all remedies have been tried
the inquiry after the unfortunate lady is
still continued, and shall be carried on
with yet greater diligence, on condition
that you will promise to wait a year for the
event, without any unalterable resolution."
Nekayah thought this a reasonable deInand, and made the promise to her brother, who had been advised by Imlac to require it. Imlac had, indeed, no great hope
of regaining Pekuah; but he supposed,
that if he could secure the interval of a
year, the princess would be then in no danger of a cloister.

CHAP. XXXVI.
Pekuah is still remembered
of Sorrow.

The Progress

NEKAYAH,
seeing that nothing was omitted
for the recovery of her favourite, and having, by her promise, set her intention of
retirement at a distance, began imperceptibly to return to common cares and common pleasures. She rejoiced without her
own consent at the suspension of her sorrows, and sometimes caught herself with
indignation in the act of turning away her
mind from the remembrance of her whom
yet she resolved never to forget.
She then appointed a certain hour of the
day for meditation on the merits and fondness of Pekuah, and for some weeks retired constantly at the time fixed, and returned with her eyes swollen and her countenance clouded. By degrees she grew less
scrupulous, and suffered any important and
pressing avocation to delay the tribute of
daily tears. She then yielded to less occasions ; and sometimes forgot what she was
indeed afraid to remember ; and, at last,
wholly released herself from the duty ofperiodical affliction.
Her real love of Pekuah was not yet diminished. A thousand occurrences brought
her back to memory, and a thousand wants,
which nothing but the confidence of friendship can supply, made her frequently rearetted. She, therefore, solicited Imlac
never to desist from inquiry, and to leave
no art of intelligence untried, that at least
she might have the comfort of knowing
that she did not suffer by negligence or
sluggishness. "Yet what," said she, " is
to be expected from our pursuit of happiness, when we find the state of life to be
such that happiness itself is the cause ofmiwery? Why should we endeavour to attain
thatof which the possession cannot be secured? I shall henceforward fear to yield
my heart to excellence, however bright, or
to fondness, however tender, lest I should
lose again what I have lost in Pekuah."

CHAP. XXXVII.
The Princesshears news of Pekuah.
IN seven months, one of the messengers,
who had been sent away upon the day when
the promise was drawn from the princess,
returned, after many unsuccessful rambles,
from the borders of Nubia, with an account
that Pekuah was in the hands of an Arab
chief, who possessed a castle or fortress
on the extremity of Egypt. The Arab,
whose revenue was plunder, was willing to
restore her, with her two attendants, for
two hundred ounces of gold.
The price was no subject of debate. The
princess was in ecstacies when she heard
that her favourite was alive, and might so
cheaply be ransomed. She could not think
of delaying for a moment Pekuah's happiness or her own, but entreated her brother
to send back the messenger with the sum
required. Imlac, being consulted, was not
very confident of the veracity of the relater,
and was still more doubtful of the Arab's
faith, who might, if he were too liberally
trusted, detain at once the money and the
captives. He thought it dangerous to put
themselves in the power of the Arab, by
going into his district ; and could not expect that the rover would so much expose
himself as to come into the lower country,
where he might be seized by the forces of
the Bassa.
It is difficult to negotiate where neither
will trust. But Imlac, after some deliberation, directed the messenger to propose that
Pekuah should be conducted by ten horsemen to the monastery of St. Anthony,
which is situated in the deserts of Upper
Egypt, where she should be met by the
same number, and her ransom should be
paid.
That no time might be lost, as they expected that the proposal would not be refused, they immediately began their journey
to the monastery ; and when they arrived,
Imlac went forward with the former messenger to the Arab's fortress. Rasselas was
desirous to go with them ; but neither his
sister nor Imlac would consent. The Arab,
according to the custom of his nation, ob.
served the laws of hospitality with great exactness to those who put themselves into
his power, and, in a few days, brought Pc.
kuah with her maids, by easy journeys, to
the place appointed, where, receiving the
stipulated price, he restored her, with great
renect, to liberty and her friends, and undei took to conduct them back towards Cairo
beyond all danger of robbery or violence.
The princess and her favourite embraced
each other with transport too violent to be
expressed, an' went out together to pour
the tears of tee derness in secret, and exchange professions of kindness and gratitude. After a few hours they returned into the refectory of the convent, where, in
the presence of the prior and his brethren,
the prince required of Pekuah the history
of her adventures.

RASSELAS.
CHAP. XXXVIII.
The Adventures of the Lady Pekuah.
" AT what time, and in what manner, I
was forced away," said Pekuah, "your servants have told you. The suddenness of
the event struck me with surprise, and I
was at first rather stupified than agitated
with any passion of either fear or sorrow.
My confusion was increased by the speed
and tumult of our flight, while we were followed by the Turks, who, as it seemed,
soon despaired to overtake us, or were
afraid of those whom they made a show of
menacing.
" When the Arabs saw themselves out of
danger, they slackened their course ; and as
1 was less harassed by external violence, I
began to feel more uneasiness in my mind.
After some time, we stopped near a spring
shaded with trees, in a pleasant meadow,
where we were set upon the ground, and
offered such refreshments as our masters
were partaking. I was suffered to sit with
my maids apart from the rest, and none attempted to comfort or insult us. Here I
first began to feel the full weight of my misery. The girls sat weeping in silence, and
from time to time looked on me for succour.
I knew not to what condition we were
doomed, nor could conjecture where would
be the place of our captivity, or whence to
draw any hope of deliverance. I was in the
hands of robbers and savages, and had no
reason to suppose that their pity was more
than their justice, or that they would forbear
the gratification of any ardour of desire, or
caprice of cruelty. I, however, kissed my
maids, and endeavoured to pacify them by
remarking, that we were yet treated with
decency, and that, since we were now carried beyond pursuit, there was no danger of
violence to our lives.
"When we were to be set again on
horseback, my maids clung round me, and
refused to be parted; but I commanded
them not to irritate those who had us in
their power. We travelled the remaining
part of the day through an unfrequented
and pathless country, and came by moonlight to the side of a hill, where the rest of
the troop was stationed.
Their tents were
pitched, and their fires kindled, and our
chief was welcomed as a man much beloved
by his dependants.
" We were received into a large tent,
where we found women who had attended
their husbands in the expedition. They
set before us the supper which they had
provided, and I ate it rather to encourage
my maids than to comply with any appetite
of my own. When the meat was taken
away, they spread the carpets for repose.
I was weary, and hoped to find in sleep
that remission of distress which nature seldom denies. Ordering myself, therefore,
to be undressed, I observed that the wonmen looked very earnestly upon me, not
expecting, I suppose, to see me so submissively attended. When my upper vest was
taken off, they were apparently struck with
the splendour of my clothes, and one of

them timorously laid her hand upon the
embroidery. She then went out, and, in a
short time, came back with another woman, who seemed to be of higher rank and
greater authority. She did, at her entrance,
the usual act of reverence, and, taking me
by the hand, placed me in a smaller tent,
spread with finer carpets, where I spent
the night quietly with my maids.
" In the morning, as I was sitting on the
grass, the chief of the troop came rowards
me. I rose up to receive him, and he bowed with great respect. ' Illustrious lady,'
said he, ' my fortune isbetter than I had
presumed to hope; I am told, by my women, that I have a princess in my camp.''Sir,' answered I, ' your women have deceived themselves and you ; I am nota princess, an unhappy stranger who intended
but
soon to have left this country, in which I
am now to be imprisoned for ever.' ' Whoever, or whencesoever, you are,' returned
the Arab, 'your dress, and that of your servants, show your rank to be high, and your
wealth to be great. Why should you, who
can so easily procure your ransom, think
yourself indanger of perpetual captivity ?
The purpose of my incursions is to increase
my riches, or more properly to gather tribute. The sons of Ishmael are the natural
and hereditary lords of this part of the continent, which is usurped by late invaders
and low-born tyrants, from whom we are
compelled to take by the sword what is denied to justice. The violence of war admits no distinction; the lance that is lifted
at guilt and power will
sometimes fall on innocence and gentleness.'
" How little,' said I, 'did I expect that
yesterday it should have fallen upon me.
" Misfortunes,' answered the Arab,
'should always be expected. If theeye of
hostility could learn reverence or pity, excellence like yours had been exempt from injury. But the angels of affliction spread their
toils alike for the virtuous and the wicked,
for the mighty and the mean. Do not be
disconsolate; I am not one of the lawless
and cruel rovers of the desert. I know the
rules of civil life; I will fix your ransom,
give a passport to your messenger, and perform my stipulation with nice punctuality.'
"You will easily believe that I was pleas.
ed with his courtesy; and finding that his
predominant passion was desire of money,
I began now to think my danger less; for I
knew that no sum would be thought too
great for the release ofPekuah. I told him
that he should have no reason to charge me
with ingratitude, if I was used with kind.
ness; and that any ransom which could be
expected for a maid of common rank would
be paid, but that he must not persist to rate
me as a princess. He said he would consider what he should demand, and then smiling, bowed and retired.
'Soon after, the women came about me,
each contending to be more officious than
the other, and my maids themselves wert
served with reverence. We travelled on
ward by short journeys. On the fourth day,
the chief told me that my ransom must be
two hundred ounces of gold;i which I not

Sd

RASSELAS.

only promised him, but told him that I I can issue unexpected, and to which I can
would add fifty more, if I and my maids retire unpursued. You may now repose in
were honourably treated.
security: here are few pleasures, but here
"I never knew the power of gold before is no danger.' He then led me into the in-- From that time I was the leader of ner apartments, and seating me on the
the troop.-The march of every day was richest couch, bowed to the ground.
longer or shorter as I commanded, and the
" His women, who considered me as a
tents were pitched where I chose to rest. rival, looked on me with malignity; but
We now had camels and other conveniences being soon informed that I was a great lady
for travel: my own women were always at detained only for my ransom, they began to
my side, and I amused myself with observ- vie with each other in obsequiousness and
ing the manners of the vagrant nations, reverence.
and with viewing remains of ancient edifi- " Being again comforted with new assurceswith which these deserted countries ap- ances of speedy liberty, I was for some days
pear to have been, in some distant age, la- diverted from impatience by the novelty of
vishly embellished.
the place.
The turrets overlooked the
"The chief of the band was a man far from country to a great distance, and afforded a
illiterate : he was able to travel by the stars view of many windings of the stream. In
or the compass, and had marked in his er- the day I wandered from one place to anratic expeditions such places as are most other, as the course of the sun varied the
worthy the notice of a passenger. He ob- splendour of the prospect, and saw many
served to me, that buildings are always best things which I had never seen before. The
preserved in places little frequented, and crocodiles and river-horses are common in
difficult of access ; for when oncea country this unpeopled region ; and I often looked
declines from its primitive splendour, the upon them with terror, though I knew that
more inhabitants are left, the quicker ruin they could not hurt me. For some time I
will be made. Walls supply stones more expected to see mermaids and tritons,
easily than quarries ; and palaces and tem- which, as Imlac has told me, the European
ples
will be demolished, to make stables of travellers have stationed in the Nile; but
granite and cottages of porphyry."
no such beings ever appeared, and the
Arab, when I inquiredafter them, laughed
at my credulity.
" At night the Arab always attended me
CHAP. XXXIX.
to a tower set apart for celestial observations, where he endeavoured to teach me
The Adventures of Pekuah continued
the names and courses of the stars. I had
no great inclination to this study; but an
" Wre wandered about in this manner for appearance of attention was necessary to
some weeks, either, as our chief pretended, please my instructor, who valued himself
for my gratification, or, as I rather suspect- for his skill, and, in a little while, I found
ed, for some convenience of his own. I en- some employment requisite to beguile the
deavoured to appear contented where sul- tediousness of time, which was to be passed
lenness and resentment would have been of always amidst the same objects. I was
no use, and that endeavour conduced much weary of looking in the morning on things
to the calmness of my mind; but my heart from which I had turned away weary in
was always with Nekayah, and the troubles the evening : I therefore was at last wilof night much overbalanced theamuse- ling to observe the stars rather than do nothe
ments of the day. My women, who threw all thing, but could not always compose my
their cares upon their mistress, set their thoughts, and was very often thinking on
minds at ease from thetime when they saw Nekayah when others imagine: me conme treated with respect, and gave them- templating the sky. Soon after the Arab
selves up to the incidental alleviations of our went upon another expedition, and then
fatigue without solicitude or sorrow. I was my only pleasure was to talk with my maids
pleased with their pleasure, and animated about the accident by which we were car.
with their confidence. My condition had ried away, and the happiness that we should
lost much of its terror, since I found that all. enjoy at the end of our captivity ?"
the Arab ranged the country merely to get
"There were women in your Arab's forriches.
Avarice is a uniform and tracta- tress," said the princess ; "why did you
ble vice; other intellectual distempers are not make them your companions, enjoy
different in different constitutions of mind ; their conversation, and partake their diverthat which soothes the pride of one will of- sions ? In a place where they found busifend the pride of another; but to the fa- ness or amusement, why should you alone
vour of the covetous there is a ready waysit corroded with idle melancholy ? or why
bring money, and nothing is denied.
could not you bear for a few months that
" At last we came to the dwelling of our condition to which they were condemned
chief ; a strong and spacious house, built for life ?"
with stone in an island of the Nile, which
" The diversions of the women," answerlies,I was told, under the tropic. 'Lady,'
as
ed Pekuah, "were only childish play, by
said the Arab, 'you shall rest after your which the mind, accustomed to stronger
journey a few weeks in this place, where operations, could not be kept busy. I could
are to consider yourself as sovereign. do all which they delighted in doing by
My occupation is war: I have therefore powers merely sensitive, while my intellecchosen this obscure residence, from which tual faculties were flown to Cairo. They

you

RASSELAS.
ran from room to room, as a bird hops from
wire to wire in his cage. They danced for
the sake of motion, as lambs frisk in a meadow. One sometimes pretended to be hurt
that the rest might be alarmed, or hid
herself that another might seek her. Part
of their time passed in watching the progress of light bodies that floated on the river, and part in marking the various forms
into which clouds broke in the sky.
" Their business was only needle-work,
in which I and my maids sometimes helped
them; but you know that the mind will
easily straggle from the fingers, nor will
you suspect that captivity and absence from
Nekayah could receive solace from silken
flowers.
" Nor was much satisfaction to be hoped
from their conversation : for of what could
they be expected to talk? They had seen
nothing, for they had lived from early
youth in that narrow spot : of what they
had not seen they could have no knowledge, for they could not read.
They had
no idea but of the few things that were
within their view, and had hardly names for
any thing but their clothes and their food.
As I bore a superior character, I was often
called to terminateetheir quarrels, which I
decided as equitably as I could. If it could
have amused me to hear the complaints of
each against the rest, I might have been
often detained by long stories; but the
motives of their animosity were so small
that I could not listen without interrupting
the tale."
" How," said Rasselas, "can the Arab,
whom you represented as a man of more
than common accomplishments, take any
pleasure in his seraglio when it is filled only
with women like these? Are they exquisitely beaeltiful ?"
"They do n6ot," said Pekuah, "want
that unaffectinigand ignoble beauty which
may subsist without sprightliness or sublimity, without energy of thought or dignity
of virtue. But to a man like the Arab,
such beauty was only a flower casually
plucked and carelessly thrown away. Whatever pleasures he might find among them,
they were not those of friendship or society. When they were playing about him,
he looked on them with inattentive superiority; when they vied for his regard, he
sometimes turned away disgusted. As they
had no knowledge, their talk could take no-

33

self happy," said Imlae, " that you have
been thus easily dismissed. How could a
mind, hungry for knowledge, be willing, in
an intellectual famine, to lose such a banquet as Pekuah's conversation ?"
" I am inclined to believe," answered
Pekuah, "that he was for some time in
suspense; for notwithstanding his promise,
whenever I proposed to despatch a messenger to Cairo, he found some excuse for delay. While I was detained in his house, he
made many incursions into the neighbouring countries, and, perhaps, he would have
refused to discharge me, had his plunder
been equal to his wishes. He returned always courteous, related his adventures, de.
lighted to hear my observations, and endeavoured to advance my acquaintance
with the stars. When I importuned him
to send away my letters, he soothed me
with professions of honour and sincerity;
and when I could be no longer decently
denied, put his troop again in motion, and
left me to govern in his absence. I was
much afflicted by this studied procrastination, and was sometimes afraid that I should
be forgotten; that you would leave Cairo,
and I must end my days in an island of the
Nile.
" I grew at last hopeless and dejected,
and cared so little to entertain him, that he
for a while more frequently talked with my
maids. That he should fall in love with
them, or with me, might have been equally
fatal; and I was not much pleased with
the growing friendship. My anxiety was
not long; for, as I recovered some degree
of cheerfulness, he returned to me, and I
could not forbear to despise my former uneasiness.
" He still delayed to send for my ransom,
and would, perhaps, never have determin.
ed, had not your agent found his way to
him. The gold, which le would not fetch,
he could not reject when it was offered.
He hastened to prepare for our journey
hither, like a man delivered from the pain
of an intestine conflict. I took leave of my
companions in the house, who dismissed me
with cold indifference."
Nekayah, having heard her favourite's
relation, rose and embraced her ; and
Rasselas gave her a hundred ounces of
gold, which she presented to the Arab, for
the fifty that were promised.

thing from the tediousness of life : as they

had no choice, their fondness, or appearance of fondness, excited in him neither
CHAP. XL.
ride nor gratitude : he was not exalted in
is own esteem by the smiles of a woman
The History of a Man of Learning.
who saw no other man, nor was much
obliged by that regard, of which hliecould TiEY returned to Cairo, and were so well
never know the sincerity, and which he pleased at finding themselves together, that
might often perceive to be exerted not so none of them went much abroad. The
much to delight him as to pain a rival. prince began to love learning, and one day
That which he gave, and they received, as declared to Imlac that he intended to delove, was only a careless distribution of vote himself to science, and pass the rest of
superfluous time; such love as man can his days in literary solitude.
bestow upon that which he despises, such as
"Before you make your final choice,"
has neither hope nor fear, neither joy nor answered Imlac, "you ought to examine
sorrow."
its hazards, and converse with some of those
"You have reason, lady, to think your- who are grown old in the company of

n2

34

RASSELAS.

themselves. I have just left the observatory of one of the most learned astronomers
in the world, who has spent forty years in
unwearied attention to the motions and appearances of the celestial bodies, and has
drawn out his soul in endless calculations.
He admits a few friends once a month to
hear his deductions and enjoy his discoveries. I was introduced as a man ofknowledge worthy of his notice. Men of various
ideas and fluent conversation are commonly
welcome to those whose thoughts have been
long fixed upon a single point, and who find
the images of other things stealing away.
I delighted him with my remarks: he
smiled at the narrative of my travels, and
was glad to forget the constellations, and
descend for a moment into the lower world.
" On the next day of vacation I renewed
my visit, and was so fortunate as to please
him again. He relaxed from that time the
severity of his rule, and permitted me to enter at my own choice. I found him always
busy, and always glad to be relieved. As
each knew much which the other was desirous of learning, we exchanged our notions with great delight. I perceived that
I had every day more of his confidence, and
always found new cause of admiration in
the profundity of his mind. His comprehension is vast, his memory capacious and
retentive; his discourse is methodical, and
bis expression clear.
" His integrity and benevolence are
equal to his learning. His deepest researches and most favourite studies are
willingly interrupted for any opportunity
of doing good by his counsel or his riches.
To his closest retreat, at his most busy moments, all are admitted that want his assistance ? 'For though I exclude idleness
and pleasure, I will never,' says he, 'bar my
doors against charity. To man is permitted
the contemplation of the skies, but the practice of virtue is commanded.'
" Surely," said the princess, " this man
is happy."
.n I visited him," said Imlac," with more
and more frequency, and was every time
more enamoured of his conversation: he
was sublime without haughtiness, courteous without formality, and communicative without ostentation. I was at first,
great princess, of your opinion, thought him
the happiest of mankind, and often congratulated him on the blessing that he enjoyed.
He seemed to hear nothing with indifference but the praises of his condition, to
which he always returned a general answer, and diverted the conversation to some
other topic.
" Amidst this willingness to be pleased,
and labour to please, I had quickly reason
to imagine that some painful sentiment
pressed upon his mind. He often looked up
earnestly towards the sun, and let his voice
fall in the midst of his discourse. He would
sometimes, when we were alone, gaze upon
me in silence with the air of a man who
longed to speak what he was yet resolved to
suppress. He would often send for me with
vehement injunctions of haste, though,
when I came to him, he had nothing ex-

traordinary to say. And sometimes, when
I was leaving him, would call me back,
pause a few moments, and then dismiss me."

CHAP. XLI.
The Astronomer discovers the Cause of his
Uneasiness.
" AT last, the time came when the secret
burst his reserve. We were sitting together last night in the turret of his house,
watching the emersion of a satellite of Jupiter. A sudden tempest clouded the sky,
and disappointed our observation. We sat
a while silent in the dark, and then he addressed himself to me in these words : Imlac, I have long considered thy friendship
as the greatest blessing of my life. Integrity without knowledge is weak and useless, and knowledge without integrity is
dangerous and dreadful. I have found in
thee all the qualities requisite for trust ;
benevolence, experience, and fortitude. I
have long dischargedan office which I must
soon quit at the call of nature, and shall rejoice in the hour of imbecility and pain to
devolve it upon thee.
" I thought myself honoured by this testimony, and protested that whatever could
conduce to his happiness would add likewise to mine.
"Hear, Imlac, what thou wilt not without difficulty credit. I have possessed for
five years the regulation of the weather,
and the distribution of the seasons : the
sun has listened to my dictates, and passed
from tropic to tropic by my direction : the
clouds, at my call, have poured their waters, and the Nile has overflowed at my
command: I have restrained the rage of
the dog -star, and mitigated the fervours of
the crab. The winds alone, of all the elemental powers, have hitherto refused my
authority, and multitudes have perished by
equinoctial tempests which I found myself
unable to prohibit or restrain. I have administered this great office with exact justice, and made to the different nations of
the earth an impartial dividend of rain and
sunshine. What must have been the misery of half the globe, if I had limited
the clouds to particular regions, or confined
the sun to either side of the equator ?"

CHAP. XLII.
The Opinionof the Astronomer is explained
andjustified.
"I SUPPOSE discovered in me, through
he
the obscurity of the room, some tokens of
amazement and doubt; for, after a short
pause, he proceeded thus:
" Not to be easily credited will neither
surprise nor offend me; for I am probably
the first of human beings to whom this trust
has been imparted. Nor do I know whether to deem this distinction a reward or

RASSELAS.
punishment; since I have possessed it, I
have been far less happy than before, and
nothing but the consciousness of good intention could have enabled me to support
the weariness of unremitted vigilance.
"How long, Sir, said I, has this great office
been in your La;lds
?
" About ten years ago, said he, my daily
observations of the cianges of the sky led
me to consider, whether, if I had the
power of the seasons, I could confer greater
plenty upon the inhabitants of the earth.
This contemplation fastened on my mind,
and I sat days and nights in imaginary dominion, pouring upon this country and that
the showers of fertility, and seconding every
fall of rain with a due proportion of sunshine. I had yet only the will to do good,
and did not imagine that I should ever have
the power.
" One day as I was looking on the fields
withering with heat, I felt in my mind a
sudden wish that I could send rain on the
southern mountains, and raise the Nile to
an inundation. In the hurry of my imagination, I commanded rain to fall; and by
comparing the time of my command with
that of the inundation, I found that the
clouds had listened to my lips.
"Might not some other cause, said I,
produce this concurrence ? The Nile does
not always rise on the same day.
" Do not believe, said he, with impatience, that such objections could escape
me; I reasoned long against my own conviction, and laboured against truth with
the utmost obstinacy. I sometimes suspected myself of madness, and should not
have dared to impart this secret but to a
man like you, capable of distinguishing the
wonderful from the impossible, and the incredible from the false.
" Why, Sir, said I, do you call that incredible which you know, or think you
know, to be true ?
" Because, said he, I cannot prove it by
any external evidence: and I know too
well the laws of demonstration, to think
that my conviction ought to influence another, who cannot, like me, be conscious
of its force.
I, therefore, shall not attempt to gain credit by disputation. It is
sufficient that I feel this power, that I have
long possessed, and every day exerted it.
But the life of man is short: the infirmities
of age increase upon me, and the time will
soon come when the regulator of the year
must mingle with the dust. The care of
appointing a successor has long disturbed
me : the night and the day have been spent
in comparisons of all the characters which
have come to my knowledge, and I have
yet found none so worthy as thyself."
CHAP. XLIII.
The Astronomer
leaves Inlac his
Directions.
"HEAR, therefore, what I shall impart with
attention, such as the welfare of a world
requires. If the task of a king be consi.

35

dered as difficult, who has the care only of
a few millions, to whom he cannot do much
good or harm, what must be the anxiety of
him, on whom depends the action of the
elements, and the great gifts of light and
heat? Hear me, therefore, with attention.
" I have diligently considered the posi.
tion of the earth and sun, and formed innumerable schemes, in which I changed
their situation. I have sometimes turned
aside the axis of the earth, and sometimes
varied the ecliptic of the sun : but I have
found it impossible to make a disposition by
which the world may be advantaged: what
one region gains, another loses by an imaginable alteration, even without considering the distant parts of the solar system
with which we are unacquainted. Do not,
therefore, in thy administration of the
year, indulge thy pride by innovation; do
not please thyself with thinking that thou
canst make thyself renowned to all future
ages, by disordering the seasons. The me.
mory of mischief is no desirable fame.
Much less will it become thee to let kindness
or interest prevail. Never rob other coun.
tries of rain to pour it on thine own. For
us the Nile is sufficient.
" I promised that when I possessed the
power, I would use it with inflexible integrity; and he dismissed me, pressing my
hand.-My heart, said he, will be now at
rest, and my benevolence will no more destroy my quiet: I have found a man of
wisdom and virtue, to whom I can cheerfully bequeath the inheritance of the sun."
The prince heard this narration with
very serious regard; but the princess smiled, and Pekuah convulsed herself with
laughter. "Ladies," said Imiac, "to mock
the heaviest of human afflictions is neither
charitable nor wise. Few can attain this
man's knowledge, and few practise his
virtues; but all may suffer his calamity.
Of the uncertainties of our present state,
the most dreadful and alarming is the un.
certain continuance of reason."
The princess was recollected, and the fa-.
vourite abashed. Rasselas, more deepwas
ly affected, inquired of Imlac, whether he
thought such maladies of the mind frequent, and how they were contracted.

CHAP. XLIV.
The dangerous Prevalenceof Imagination.
" DsORDnERS of intellect," answered Iam.
lac, "happen much more often than super.
ficial observers willeasily believe. Per.
haps, if we speak with rigorous exactness,
no human mind is in its right state. There
is no man whose imagination does not
sometimes predominate over his reason,
who can regulate his attention wholly by
his will, and whose ideas
will come and go
at his command. No man will be found
in whose mind airy notions do not sometimes tyrannize, and force him to hope or
fear beyond the limits of sober probability.
AUll
power of fancy over reason is a degree

36

RASSELAS.

of insanity ; but while this power is such as
we can control and repress, it is not visible
to others, nor considered as any depravation of the mental faculties ; it is not pronounced madness but when it becomes
ungovernable, and apparently influences
speech or action.
" To indulge the power of fiction, and
send imagination out upon the wing, is often the sport of those who delight too much
in silent speculation. When we are alone,
we are not always busy ; the labour of ex.
cogitation is too violent to last long; the
ardour of inquiry will sometimes give way
to idleness or satiety. He who has nothing external that can divert him must
find pleasure in his own thoughts, and must
conceive himself what he is not; for who
is pleased with what he is ? He then expatiates in boundless futurity, and culls
from all imaginable conditions that which
for the present moment he should most
desire, amuses his desires with impossible
enjoyments, and confers upon his pride
unattainable dominion. The mind dances
from scene to scene, unites all pleasures in
all combinations, and riots in delights
which nature and fortune, with all their
bounty, cannot bestow.
" In time, some particular train of
ideas fixes the attention: all other intellectual gratifications are rejected ; the
mind, in weariness or leisure, recurs constantly to the favourite conception, and
feasts on the luscious falsehood whenever
she is offended with the bitterness of truth,
By degrees, the reign of fancy is confirmed;
she grows first imperious, and in time despotic. Then fictions begin to operate as
realities, false opinions fasten upon the
mind, and life passes in dreams of rapture
or of anguish.
" This, Sir, is one of the dangers of solitude; which the hermit has confessed not
always to promote goodness, and the astronomer's misery has proved to be not always propitious to wisdom."
SI will no more," said the favourite,
" imagine myself the queen of Abissinia.
I have often spent the hours, which the
princess gave to my own disposal, in adjusting ceremonies, and regulating the
court; I have repressed the pride ofi the
powerful, and granted the petitions of the
poor; I have built new palaces in more
happy situations, planted groves upon the
tops of mountains, and have exulted in the
beneficence of royalty, till, when the
princess entered, I had almost forgotten to
bow down before her."
" And I," said the princess, " will not
allow myself any more to play the shepherdess in my waking dreams. I have
often soothed my thoughts with the quiet
and innocence of pastoral employments, till
I have in my chamber heard the winds
whistle, and the sheep bleat; sometimes
freed the lamb entangled in the thicket,
and sometimes with my crook encountered
he wolf. I have a dress like that of the
village maids, whioh I put on to help my
imagination, and a pipe on which I play

softly, and suppose myself followed by my
flocks."
" I will confess," said the prince, " an
indulgence of fantastic delight more dangerous than yours. I have frequently endeavoured to imagine the possibility of a
perfect government, by which all wrong
should be restrained, all vice reformed, and
all the subjects preserved in tranquillity
and innocence. This thought produced
innumerable schemes of reformation, and
dictated many useful regulations and salu.
tary edicts. This has been the sport, and
sometimes the labour, of my solitude: and
I start, when I think with how little anguish I once supposed the death of my father and my brothers."
" Such," said Imlac, "are the effects of
visionary schemes : when we first form
them, we know them to be absurd, but
familiarize them by degrees, and in time
lose sight of their folly."

CHAP. XLV.
They discourse with an old Man.
TimE evening was now far spent, and they
rose to return home. As they walked
along the bank of the Nile, delighted with
the beams of the moon quivering on the
water, they saw, at a small distance, an old
man whom the prince had often heard in
the assembly of the sages. " Yonder,"
said he, " is one whose years have calmed
his passions, but not clouded his reason :
let us close the disquisitions of the night,
by inquiring what are his sentiments of his
own state, that we may know Nhether
youth alone is to struggle with vexation,
and whether any better hope remains for
the latter part of life."
Here the sage approached and saluted
them. They invited him to join their
walk, and prattled a while as acquaintance
that had unexpectedly met one another.
The old man was cheerful and talkative,
and the way seemed short in his company.
He was pleased to find himself not disregarded, accompanied them to their house,
and, at the prince's request, entered with
them. They placed him in the seat of
honour, and set wine and conserves before
him.
" Sir," said the princess, '" an evening
walk must give to a man of learning like
you pleasures which ignorance and youth
can hardly conceive. You know the qualities and the causes of all that you behold,
the laws by which the river flows, the periods in which the planets perform their revolutions. Every thing must supply you
with contemplation, and renew the consciousness of your own dignity."
" Lady," answered he, " let the gay and
the vigorous expect pleasure in their excursions: it is enough that age canr attain
ease. To me the world has lost its novelty : I look round, and sv what I rememher to have seen in happier days. I rest

RASSELAS.
against a tree, and consider, that in the
same shade I once disputed upon the annual overflow of the Nile with a friend who
is now silent in the grave. I cast my eyes
upwards, fix them on the changing moon,
and think with pain on the vicissitudes of
life. I have ceased to take much delight
in physical truth; for what have I to do
with those things which I am soon to
leave ?"
" You may at least recreate yourself,"
said Imlac, " with the recollection of an
honourable and useful life, and enjoy the
praise which all agree to give you."
" Praise," said the sage, with a sigh,
" is to an old man an empty sound. I have
neither mother to be delighted with the reputation of her son, nor wife to partake the
honours of her husband. I have outlived
my friends and my rivals. Nothing is now
of much importance; for I cannot extend
my interest beyond myself. Youth is delighted with applause, because it is considered as the earnest of some future good,
and because the prospect of life is far extended: but to me, who am now declining
to decrepitude, there is little to be feared
from the malevolence of men, and yet less
to be hoped from their affection or esteem.
Riches would now be useless, and high emloyment would be pain. My retrospect of
life recals to my view many opportunities
of good neglected, much time squandered
upon trifles, and more lost in idleness and
va:: ncy. I leave many great designs unattempted, and many great attempts unfinished. My mind is burdened with no
heavy crime, and therefore I compose myself to tranquillity; endeavour to abstract
my thoughts from hopes and cares, which,
though reason knows them to be vain, still
try to keep their old possession of the
heart; expect, with serene humility, that
hour which nature cannot long delay, and
hope to possess, in a better state, that happiness which here I could not find, and
that virtue which here I have not attained."
He arose and went away, leaving his audience not much elated with the hope of
long life. The prince consoled himself
with remarking, that it was not reasonable
to be disappointed by this account; for age
had never been considered as the season of
felicity, and, if it was possible to be easy in
decline and weakness, it was likely that the
days of vigour and alacrity might be happy : that the noon of life might be bright,
if the evening could be calm.
The princess suspected that age was querulous and malignant, and delighted to repress the expectations of those who had
newly entered the world. She had seen the
possessors of estates look with envy on their
heirs, and known many who enjoyed pleasure no longer than they could confine it to
themselves,
Pekuah conjectured that the man was
older than he appeared, and was willing to
impute his complaints to delirious dejection; or else supposed that he had been
unfortunate, and was therefore discontented: " For nothing," said she, " is more

37

common than to call our own condition the
condition of life."
Imlac, who had no desire to see them
depressed, smiled at the comforts which
they could so readily procure to themselves; and remembered, that at the same
age he was equally confident of unmingled
prosperity, and equally fertile of consolatory expedients. He forbore to force upon
them unwelcome knowledge, which time
itself would too soon impress. The princess
and her lady retired; the madness of the
astronomer hung upon their minds; and
they desired Imlac to enter upon his office,
and delay next morning the rising of the
sun.

CHAP. XLVI.
The Princess and Pekuah visit the Astronamer.
THE princess and Pekuah, having talked i)
private of Imlac's astronomer, thought his
character at once so amiable and so strange;
that they could not be satisfied without a
nearer kowledg %; and Inilac was requested to find the means of bringing them together.
This was somewhat difficult; the philosopher had never received any visits from
women, though le lived in a city that ha
in it many Europeans, who followed the
manners of their own countries, and many
from other parts of the world, that lived
there with European liberty. The ladies
would not be refused, and several schemes
were proposed for the accomplishment of
their design. It was proposed to introduce
them as strangers in distress, to whom the
sage was always accessible; but after some
deliberation, it appeared, that by this artifice, no acquaintance could be formed, for
their conversation would be short, and they
could not decently importune him often.
" This," said Rasselas, " is true : but I
have yet a stronger objection against the
misrepresentation of your state. I have
always considered it as treason against the
great republic of human nature, to make
any man's virtues the means of deceiving
him, whether on great or little occasions.
All imposture weakens confidence, and
chills benevolence. When the sage finds
that you are not what you seemed, he will
feel the resentment natural to a man who,
conscious of great abilities, discovers that
he has been tricked by understandings
meaner than his own, and, perhaps, the
distrust which he can never afterwards
wholly lay aside may stop the voice of
counsel, and close the hand of charity : ard
where will you find the power of restoring
his benefactions to mankind, or his peace to
himself?"
To this no reply was attempted, and Irnlac began to hope that their curiosity would
subside, but, next day, Pekuah told him,
she had now found an honest pretence for
a visit to the astronomer, for she would solicit permission to continue under him the

38

RASSELAS.

Studies in which she had been initiated by
the Arab, and the princess might go with
her, either as a fellow-student, or because a
woman could not decently come alone.
" I am afraid," said Imlac, " that he will
soon be weary of your company; men advanced far in knowledge do not love to repeat the elements of their art; and I am
not certain that even of the elements, as he
will deliver them connected with inferences
and mingled with reflections, you are a
very capable auditress."-" That," said
"
Pekuah,
must be my care: I ask of you
only to take me thither. My knowledge
is, perhaps, more than you imagine it;
and by concurring always with his opinions, I shall make him think it greater than
it is."
The astronomer, in pursuance of this resolution, was told that a foreign lady, travelling in search of knowledge, had heard
of his reputation, and was desirous to become his scholar. The uncommonness of
the proposal raised at once his surprise and
curiosity, and when, after a short deliberation, he consented to admit her, he could
not stay without impatience till the next
day.
The ladies dressed thAnselves magnificently, and were attended by Imlac to the
astronomer, who was pleased to see himself approached with respect by persons of
so splendid an appearance. In the exchange of the first civilities, he was timorous and bashful; but when the talk be.
came regular, he recollected his powers,
and justified the character which Imlac
had given. Inquiring of Pekuah what
could have turned her inclination towards
astronomy, he received from her a history
of her adventure at the pyramid, and of the
time passed in the Arab's island. She told
her tale with ease and elegance, and her
conversation took possession of his heart,
The discourse was then turned to astrorio.
my : Pekuah displayed what she knew : he
looked upon her as a prodigy of genius, and
entreated her not to desist from a study
which she had so happily begun.
They came again and again, and were
every time more welcome than before. The
sage endeavoured to amuse them, that
they might prolong their visits, for he
found his thoughts grow brighter in their
company ; the clouds of solicitude vanished
by degrees, as he forced himself to entertain them, and he grieved when he was
left, at their departure, to his old employment of regulating the seasons,
The princess and her favourite had now
watched his lips for several months, and
could not catch a single word from which
they could judge whether he continued, or
not, in the opinion of his preternatural
commission. They often contrived to bring
him to an open declaration; but he easily
eluded all their attacks, and, on which side
soever they pressed him, escaped from them
to some other topic.
As their familiarity increased, they invited him often to the house of Imlac,
where they distinguished him by extraordinary respect. He began gradually to de-

light in sublunary pleasures. He came
early, and departed late; laboured to recommend himself by assiduity and compliance, excited their curiosity after new
arts, that they might still want his assistance; and when they inade any excursion
of pleasure or inquiry, entreated to attend
them.
By long experience of his integrity and
wisdom, the prince and his sister were
convinced that he might be trusted without danger : and, lest he should draw any
false hopes from the civilities which he received, discovered to him their condition,
with the motives of their journey, and required his opinion on the choice of life.
" Of the various conditions which the
world spreads before you, which you shall
prefer," said the sage, " I am not able to
instruct you. I can only tell that I have
chosen wrong. I have passed my time
in study without experience: in the attainment of sciences which can, for the
most part, be but remotely useful to man.
kind. I have purchased knowledge at the
expense of all the common comforts of
life : I have missed the endearing elegance
of female friendship, and the happy commerce of domestic tenderness. If I have
obtained any prerogatives above other students, they have been accompanied with
fear, disquiet, and scrupulosity; but even
of these prerogatives, whatever they were,
I have, since my thoughts have been diversified by more intercourse with the
world, begun to question the reality.
When I have been for a few days lost in
pleasing dissipation, I am always tempted
to think that my inquiries have ended in
error, and that I have suffered much, and
suffered it in vain."
Imlac was delighted to find that the
sage's understanding was breaking through
its mists, and resolved to detain him from
the planets till he should forget his task of
ruling them, and reason should recover its
original influence.
From this time the astronomer was re.
ceived into familiar friendship, and par.
took of all their projects and pleasures:
his respect kept him attentive, and the ac
tivity of Rasselas did not leave much time
unengaged. Something was always to be
done : the day was spent in making obser.
vations, which furnished talk for the even.
ing, and the evening was closed with a
scheme for the morrow.
The sage confessed to Imiac, that since
he had mingled in the gay tumults of life,
and divided his hours by a succession of
amusements, he found the conviction of
his authority over the skies fade gradually
from his mind, and began to trust less to
an opinion which he never could prove to
others, and which he now found subject to
variation, from causes in which reason had
no part. " If I am accidentally left alone
"
for a few hours," said he, my inveterate
persuasion rushes upon my soul, and my
thoughts are chained down by some irre.
sistible violence; but they are soon disen.
tangled by the prince's conversation, and
instantaneously released at the entrance of

RASSELAS.

39

Rasselas then entered, with the princes
and Pekuah, and inquired whether they
had contrived any new diversion for the
Such," said Nekayah, " is
next day.
the state of lfe, t at none are happy but
by the anticipation of change : the change
itself is nothing; when we have made it,
the next wish is to change again. The
world is not yet exhausted; let me see
something to-morrow which I never saw
before."
" Variety," said Rasselas, " is so necessary to content, that even the happy valley
disgusted me by the recurrence of its luxuries; yet I could not forbear to reproach
myself with impatience, when I saw the
monks of St. Anthony support, without
complaint, a life, not of uniform delight,
but uniform hardship."
" Those men," answered Imlac, " are
less wretched in their silent convent than
the Abissinian princes in their prison of
pleasure. Whatever is done by the monks
is incited by an adequate and reasonable
motive. Their labour supplies them with
necessaries; it therefore cannot be omitted, and is certainly rewarded. Their devotion prepares them for another state,
and reminds them of its approach, while it
fits them for it. Their time is regularly
distributed; one duty succeeds another;
so that they are not left open to the distraction of unguided choice, nor lost in the
shades of listless inactivity. There is a
certain task to be performed at an approare
priated hour; and their toils cheerful,
because they consider them as acts of
piety, by which they are always advancing
towards endless felicity."
" Do you think," said Nekayah, " that
the monastic rule is a more holy and less
imperfect state than any other? May not
he equally hope for future happiness who
converses openly with mankind, who succours the distressed by his charity, instructs the ignorant by his learning, and
contributes by his industry to the general
system of life; even though he should
omit some of the mortifications which are
practised in the cloister, and allow himself
such harmless delights, as his condition
CHAP. XLVII.
The Prince brings a e Topic. may place within his reach ?"
enters and
This," said Imlac, " is a question
The Princebringsa new Topic.
and enters
which has long divided the wise, and per"ALL this," said the astronomer, " I have plexed the good. I am afraid to decide on
often thought; but my reason has been so either part. He that lives well in the
long subjugated by an uncontrollable and world is better than he that lives well in a
overwhelming idea, that it durst notconfidemonastery. But, perhaps, every one is not
in its own decisions. I now see how fatally I able to stem the temptations of public life;
betrayed my quiet, by suffering chimeras to and, if he cannot conquer, he may properly
prey upon me in secret; but melancholy retreat. Some have little power to do good,
shrinks from communication, and I never and have likewise little strength to resist
found a man before to whom I could impart evil. Many are weary of their conflicts
my troubles, though I had been certain of with adversity, and are willing to eject
relief. I rejoice to find my own sentiments those passions which have long busied
confirmed by yours, who are not easily de- them in vain. And many are dismissed by
ceived, and can have no motive or purpose age and diseases from the more laborious
to deceive. I hope that time and variety duties of society. In monasteries the weak
will dissipate the gloom that has so long and timorous may be happily sheltered,
surrounded me, and the latter part of my the weary may repose, and the penitent
may meditate. Those retreats of prayer
days will be spent in peace."
'Your learning and virtue," said Imlac, and contemplation have something so congenial to the mind of man, that, perhaps
" may justly give you hopes."

Pekuah. I am like a man habitually afraid
of spectres, who is set at ease by a lamp,
and wonders at the dread which harassed
him in dark, yet if his lamp be extin.
the
guished, feels again the terrors which he
knows that when it is light he shall feel no
more. But I am sometimes afraid, lest I
indulge my quiet by criminal negligence,
and voluntarily forget the great charge
with which I am intrusted. If I favour
myself in a known error, or am determined
by my own ease in a doubtful question of
this importance, how dreadful is my
crime!"
" No disease of the imagination," answered Imlac, " is so difficult of cure, as
that which is complicated with the dread
of guilt; fancy and conscience then act
interchangeably upon us, and so often shift
their places, that the illusions of one are
not distinguished from the dictates of the
other. If fancy preseilts images not moral
or religious, the mind drives them away
when they give it pain; but when melancholy notions take the form of duty, they
lay hold on the faculties without opposition, because we are afraid to exclude or
banish them. For this reason the superstitious are often melancholy, and the melancholy almost always superstitious.
" But do not let the suggestions of timidity overpower your better reason : the
danger of neglect can be but as the probability of the obligation, which, when you
consider itwith freedom, you find very
little, and that little growing every day
less. Open your heart to the influence of
the light, which, from time to time, breaks
in upon you: when scruples importune
you, which you in your lucid moments
know to be vain, do not stand to parley,
but fly to business, or to Pekuah; and
keep this thought always prevalent, that
you are only one atom of the mass of humanity, and have neither such virtue nor
vice as that you should be singled out for
supernatural favours or afflictions."

"

40

RASSELAS,

there is scarcely one that does not purpose
to close his life in pious abstraction, with a
few associates serious as himself."
" Such," said Pekuah, " has often been
my wish; and I have heard the princess
declare, that she should not willingly die in
a crowd."
" The liberty of using harmless plea.
sures," proceeded Imlac, "will not be disputed; but it is still to be examined what
pleasures are harmless. The evil of any
-leasure that Nekayah can imagine is not
in the act itself, but in its consequences.
Pleasure, in itself harmless, may become
mischievous, by endearing to us a state
which we know to be transient and probatory, and withdrawing our thoughts from
that, of which every hour brings us nearer
to the beginning, and of which no length
of time will bring us to the end. Mortification is not virtuous " itself, nor has any
other use, but that
disengages us from
the allurements of sense. In the state of
future perfection, to which we all a'pire,
there will be pleasure without danger, and
security without restraint."
The princess was silent, and Rasselas,
turning to the astronomer, asked him whether he could not delay her retreat, by
showing her something which she had not
seen before.
" Your curiosity," said the sage, " has
been so general, and your pursuit of knowledge so vigorous, that novelties are not
very easily to be found: but what you can
no longer procure from the living may be
given by the dead. Among the wonders of
this country are the catacombs, or the ancient repositories, in which the bodies of
the earliest generations were lodged, and
where, by the virtue of the gums which
embalmed them, they yet remain without
corruption."
"I know not," said Rasselas, " what
pleasure the sight of the catacombs can afford; but, since nothing else is afforded, I
am resolved to view them, and shall place
this with many other things which 1 have
done, because I would do something."
They hired a guard of horsemen, and the
next day visited the catacombs. When
they were about to descend into the sepulchral caves, " Pekuah," said the princess,
" we are now again invading the habitations of the dead; I know that you will
stay behind : let me find you safe when I
return."-" No, I will not be left," answered Pekuah : "I will go down between
you and the prince."
They then all descended, and roved with
wonder through the labyrinth of subterraneous passages, where the bodies were laid
in rows on either side.

it

CHAP. XLVIII.
I.mlac discourseson the Nature of the Soul.
" WHAT reason," said the prince, " can be
given, why the Egyptians should thus expensively preserve those carcasses which

some nations consume with fire, others lay
to mingle with the earth, and all agree to
remove from their sight as soon as decent
rites can be performed ?"
" The original of ancient customs," said
Imlac, " is commonly unknown; for the
practice often continues when the cause
has ceased: and concerning superstitious
ceremonies, it is vain to conjecture; for
what reason did not dictate, reason cannot
explain. I have long believed that the
practice of embalming arose only from
tenderness to the remains of relations or
friends ; and to this opinion am more inclined, because it seems impossible that this
care should have been general; had all the
dead been embalmed, their repositories
must in time have been more spacious
than the dwellings of the living. I suppose
only the rich or honourable were secured
from corruption, and the rest left to the
course of nature.
" But it is commonly supposed that the
Egyptians believed the soul to live as long
as the body continued undissolved, and
therefore tried this method of eluding
death."
" Could the wise Egyptians," said Nekayah, " think so grossly of the soul? If
the soul could once survive its separation,
what could it afterwards receive or suffer
from the body ?"
" The Egyptians would doubtless think
erroneously," said the astronomer, " in
the darkness of heathenism and the first
dawn of philosophy. The nature of the
soul is still disputed, amidst all our opportunities of clearer knowledge: some yet
say, that it may be material, who, nevertheless, believe it to be immortal."
" Some," answered Imlac, " have in.
deed said that the soul is material, but I
can scarcely believe that any man has
thought it, who knew how to think: for
all the conclusions of reason enforce the
immateriality of mind, and all the notices
of sense and investigations of science concur to prove the unconsciousness of mat.
ter.
" It was never supposed that cogitation
is inherent in matter or that every particle
is a thinking being. Yet if any part of
matter be devoid of thought, what part can
we suppose to think? Matter can differ
from matter in form, density, bulk, motion, and direction of motion. To which of
these, however varied or combined, can
consciousness be annexed? To be round
or square, to be solid or fluid, to be great
or little, to be moved slowly or swiftly, one
way or another, are modes of material existence, all equally alien from the nature
of cogitation. If matter be once without
thought, it can only be made to think by
some new modification; but all the modifications which it can admit are equally
unconnected with cogitative powers."
" But the materialists," said the astromer, " urge that matter may have qualities with which we are unacquainted."
" He who will determine," returned
Imlac, " against that which he knows, because there may be something which he

RPASSELAS.

41

knows not; he that can set hypothetical
possibility against acknowledged certainty,
is not to be admitted among reasonable
beings. All that we know cf matter is,
that matter is inert, senseless, and lifeless ;
and if this conviction cannot be opposed
but by referring us to something that we
know not, we have all the evidence that
human intellect can admit. If that which
is known may be overruled by that which
is unknown, no being, not omniscient, can
arrive at certainty."
" Yet let us not," said the astronomer,
"too arrogantly limit Creator's power."
the
" It is no limitation of Omnipotence,"
replied the poet, " to suppose that one
thing is not consistent with another, that
the same proposition cannot be at once true
and false, that the same number cannot be
even and odd, that cogitation cannot be
conferred on that which is created incapable of cogitation."
" I know not," said Nekaah, " any
great use of this question. Does that immateriality, which, in my opinion, you
have sufficiently proved, necessarily include eternal duration ?"
" Of immateriality," said Imlac, " our
ideas are negative, and therefore obscure.
Immateriahty seems to imply a natural
power of perpetual duration as a consequence of exemption from all causes of decay: whatever perishes is destroyed by the
solution of its contexture, and separation
of its parts; nor can we conceive how that

gloomy would be these mansions of the
dead to him who did not know that he
should never die : that what now acts
shall continue its agency, and what now
thinks shall think on for ever. Those
that lie here stretched before us, the wis"
and the powerful of ancient times, warn us
to remember the shortness of our present
state: they were, perhaps, snatched away
while they were busy, like us, in the
choice life."
of
" To me," said the princess, "the choice
of life is become less important; I hope
hereafter to think only on the choice of
eternity."
They then hastened out of the caverns,
and, under the protection of their guard,
returned to Cairo.

which has no parts, and therefore admits

had observed,and with various schemes of

no solution, can be naturally corrupted or
impaired."
"I know not," said Rasselas, " how to
conceive any thing without extension :
what is extended must have parts, and you
allow that whatever has parts may be destroyed."
" Consider your own conceptions," replied Imlac, " and the difficulty will be
less. You will find substance without extension. An ideal form is no less real than
material bulk; yet an ideal form has no
extension. It is no less certain, when you
think on a pyramid, that your mind possesses idea of a pyramid, than that the
the
pyramid itself is standing. What space
does the idea of a pyramid occupy more
than the idea of a grain of corn ? or how
can either idea suffer laceration ? As is
the effect, such is the cause; as thought,
such is the power that thinks, a power
impassive and indiscerptible."
" But the Being," said Nekayah,
" whom I fear to name, the Being which
made the soul, can destroy it."
" He surely can destroy it," answered
Imlac, " since, however unperishable, it
receives from a superior .ature its power
of duration. That it will not perish by any
inherent cause of decay, or principle of
corruption, may be shown by philosophy;
but philosophy can tell no more. That it
will not be annihilated by Him that made
it, must humbly learn from higher au.
we
thority."
The whole assembly stood a while silent,
nd collected. " Let us return," said Rasselas, '"
from this scene of mortality. How

happiness which each of them had formed.
Pekuah was never so much charmed
withany place as the convent of St. Anthony, where the Arab restored her to the
princess, and wished only to fill it with piousmaidens, and to be made prioress of
the order: she was weary of expectation
and disgust, and would gladly be fixed ill
some unvariable state.
The princess thought, that, of all sublunary things, knowledge was the best. She
desired first to learn all sciences, and then
proposed to found a college of learned women, in which she would preside, that, by
conversing with
the old, and educating tl
young, she might divide her time between
the acquisition and communication of wisdom, and raise up for the next age models
of prudence and patterns of piety.
The prince desired a little kingdom, in
which he might administer justice in his
own person, and see all the parts of government with his own eyes; but he could
never fix the limits of his dominion, and
was always adding to the number of his
subjects.
Imlac and the astronomer were contented to be driven along the stream of
life, without directing their course to any
particular port.
Of these wishes that they had formed,
they well knew that none could be obtained. They deliberated a whilewhat
was to be done, and resolved, when the
inundation should cease, to return to Abis.
sinia.

CHAP. XLIX.
The Conclusion, in whichNothing isco;..
eluded.
IT was now the time of the inundation of
the Nile: a few days after their visit to the
catacombs the river began to rise.
They were confined to their house. The
whole region being under water, gave
them no invitation to any excursions; and
being well supplied with materials for talk,
they diverted themselves with comparisons
of the different forms of life which they

THE END.

THE

VICAR

OF

WAKEFIELD:

BY OLIVER GOLDSMITH, M B.

ADVERTISEMENT.

THERE are a hundred faults in this thing, and a hundred things might be said to
prove them beauties : but it is needless. A book may be amusing with numerous errors, or it may be very dull without a single absurdity. The hero of this piece unites

in himself the three greatest characters upon earth: he is a priest, a husbandman,
and the father of a family. He is drawn as ready to teach, and ready to obey: as
simple in affluence, and majestic in adversity. In this age of opulence and refine.
ment, whom can such a character please? Such as are fond of high life, will turn with
disdain from the simplicity of his country fire-side. Such as mistake ribaldry for humour will find no wit in his harmless conversation; and such as have been taught
to deride religion, will laugh at one whose chief stores of comfort are drawn from fu.
turity.
OLIVER GOLDSMITIL

CON TEN TS.
CHAP.

CHAP.

PA GE

I. Description of the family of Wakefield, in which a kindred likeness
prevails, as vell of minds as of persons,
II. Family misfortunes. Tse loss of
fortune only seems to increase the
pride of the worthy,
III. A migration. The fortunate circumstances of our lives are generally found at last to be of our own
procuring,
IV. A proof that even the humblest
fortune may grant happiness and
delight, which depend not on circumstance, but constitution,
V. A new and great acquaintance inXhat we place most
troduced.
hopes upon, generally proves most
fatal,
VI. The happiness of a country fireside,
VI. A town wit descrbed. Tho
lest fellows may learn to be comical for a night or two,
VIII. An amour which promisec little
good fortune, yet may be productive of much,
IX. Two ladies of great distinction introduced. Superior finery seems
to confer superior breeding,
X. Tfhe family endeavours to cope with
their boilers. The miseries of the
poor, when they attempt to appear
shove their circumstances,
XI. The family still resolve to hold up
their heads,........
XII. Fortune seems resolved to humhis tie family of Wakefield.
Mlortifications are often more painful thans real calamities,
X1II. Mr. IPurchell is found to be an
enemy, for he has the confidence
o give disagreeable advice,
XIV. Fresh mortifications ; or a demonstration that seeming calamities may he real blessings,.
XV. All -1r. Burchell's villany at
once detected. The folly of being
over-wise,
XVI. The family use art, which is op.
posed with still greater,

dul-

1
2

3

6

550cP

XVII. Scarce any virtue found to reslot the power of long arnd pleasing
temptation,
XVIII. The pursuit of a Father to reclaim a lost child to virtue,.
XIX. The description of a person discontented with the present goverment, and apprehensive of the
3t
loss of our liberties,
XX. The history of a philosophic vagabond, pursuing novelty, but losing content,
.
.
.
XXI. The short continuance of friendship amongst the vicious, which is
coeval only with mutual satisfac..
tion................
XXII. Offences are easily pardoned
41
where there is love at bottom,
XXIII. None but the guilty can he
long and completely miserable, . 42
XXIV. Fresh calamities,
43

:
S

XXV.

No situation, however wretched

it seems, but has some sort of

9

fort attending it,

coin-

45

XXVI. A reformation in the gaol. To
snake laws complete, they shls d
47
11 .
rewardaswellaspunish,
XXVII. The same subject continued, 48
XXVIII. Haoppiness and misery rather
the result of prudesce than of vir13
tue in this life ;-temporal evils or
felicities being rewarded byl-Ieaven
as thsings merely in themselves
14
trifling, and uniworthy its rare in
.
.
.50
the distribution,
16 XXIX. The equal dealings of Providence demonstrated, with regard
to the happy and tics miserable
here below. That, from thes natore of pleasure and paso, the
18
wretched must be repaid the balance of their sufferings icc the
Bt.
.
19
life hereafter,
XXX. Happier prospects begin to appear. Let us be inflexible, acid
20
fortune will at last chsange in our
favour,...........

22!
24

XXXI. Former benevolence now me57
paid with unexpected insterest, .
6J1
XXXII. The Coniclusiors,

VICAR OF WAKEFIELD.

CHAP. I.
Dessoption of the family of Wakefield; in which a kindred likeness prevails, as well of
ninds as of persons.
hold good through life, that the poorer the
guest, the better pleased he ever is with
being treated; and as some men gaze with
tinued single, and only talked of population.
admiration at the colours of a tulip, and
From this motive, I had scarce taken or- others are smitten with the wing of a butders a year, before I began to think serious- terfly, so I was by nature an admirer of
ly of matrimony, and chose my wife, as she happy human faces. However, when any
did her wedding-gown, not for a fine one of our relations was found to be a per.
glossy surface, but such qualities as would son of very bad character, a troublesome
wear well. To do her justice, she was a guest, or one we desired to get rid of, upon
good-natured, notable woman; and as for his leaving my house for the first time, I
breeding, there were few country ladies ever took care to lend him a riding coat, or
who at that time could show more. She a pair of boots, or sometimes a horse of small
could read any English book without value, and I always had the satisfaction of
finding he never came back to return
much spelling; and for pickling, preserving, and cookery, none could excel her. them. By this the house was cleared of
such as we did not like: but never was the
She prided herself much also upon being
an excellent contriver in house-keeping ; family of Wakefield known to turn the
yet I could never find that we grew richer traveller or the poor dependant out ofd ors.
Thus we lived several years in a state of
with all her contrivances.
However, we loved each other tenderly, much happiness; not but that we someand our fondness increased with age. times had those little rubs which ProviThere was, in fact, nothing that could dence sends to enhance the value of its favours. My orchard was often robbed by
make us angry with the world or each
other. We had an elegant house, situated the school-boys, and my wife's custards
in a fine country, and a good neighbour- plundered by the cats or the children. The
hood. The year was spent in moral or squire would sometimes fall asleep in the
rural amusements; in visiting our rich most pathetic parts of my sermon, or his
neighbours, or relieving such as were poor. lady return my wife's civilities at churcl
We had no revolutions to fear, nor fatigues with a mutilated courtesy : But we soon
to undergo; all our adventures were by got over the uneasiness caused by such acthe fire-side; and all our migrations from cidents, and usually, in three or four days,
began to wonder how they vexed us.
the blue room to the brown.
My children, the offspring of temperance,
As we lived near the road, we often had
the traveller or stranger coming to taste as they were educated without softness, so
our gooseberry wine, for which we had they were at once well-formed and healthy ;
great reputation; and I profess, with the my sons hardy and active, my daughters
veracity of an historian, I never knew one beautiful and blooming. When I stood in
the midst of the little circle, which proof them find fault with it. Our cousins
too, even to the fortieth remove, all re- mised to be the supports of my declining
membered their affinity, without any help age, I could not avoid repeating the famous
from the herald's office, and came very story of Count Abensberg, who, in Henry
frequently to see us. Some of them did us the Second's progress through Germany,
n great honour by these claims of kindred ; when other courtiers came with their trefor, literally speaking, we had the blind, sures, brought his thirty-two children, and
the maimed, and the halt, amongst the presented them to his sovereign, as the
number. However, my wife always in- most valuable offering he had to bestow.
sisted, that, as they were the sameflesh and In this manner, though I had but six, I
blood with us, they should sit with us at
considered them as a very valuable present
the same table. So that, if we had not
made to my country, and consequently
very rich, we generally had very happy
looked upon it as my debtor. Our eldest
friends about us; for this remark will ever
son was named George, after his unl
I WAS ever of opinion, that the honest
man who married, and brought up a large
family, did more service than he who con-

VICAR OF WAKEFIELD.
who left us ten thousand pounds. Our
CHAP. II.
second child, a girl, I intended to call after
her aunt Grizel; but, my wife, who dur- Family Misfortunes. The loss of fortune
ing the time of her pregnancy, had been
only serves to increasetie pride of the
reading romances, insisted upon her being
worthy.
called Olivia. In less than another year we
had a daughter again; and now I was de- THE temporal concerns of our family were
termined that Grizel should be her name; chiefly committed to my wife's managebut a rich relation taking a fancy to stand ment; as to the spiritual, I took them
god-mother, the girl was by her directions tirely under my own direction. The pro.
called Sophia : so that we had two roman- fits of my living, which amounted but to
tic names in the family; but I solemnly thirty-five pounds a year, I gave to the
protest I had no hand in it. Moses was orphans and widows of the clergy of our
our next; and, after an interval of twelve diocese, for, having a sufficient fortune of
my own, I was careless of temporalities,
years, we had two sons more.
It would be fruitless to deny my exulta- and felt a secret pleasure in doing my duty
tion, when I saw my little ones about me ; without reward. I also set a resolution of
but the vanity and satisfaction of my wife keeping no curate, and of being acquainted
were even greater than mine. When our with every man in the parish, exhorting
visitors would usually say, "Well, upon the married men to temperance, and the
my word, Mrs. Primrose, you have the bachelors to matrimony : so that, in a few
finest children in the whole country:" years, it was a common saying, that there
" Ay, neighbour," she would answer, w;ere three strange wants at Wakefield, a
" theyare as Heaven made them, hand- parson wanting pride, young men wanting
some enough, if they be good enough, wives, and alehouses wanting customers.
Matrimony was always one of my favourfor handsome is that handsome does."
And then she would bid the girls hold ite topics, and I wrote several sermons to
up their heads; who, to conceal nothing, prove its utility and happiness : but there
were certainly very handsome.
Mere was a peculiar tenet which I made a point
outside is so very trifling a circum- of supporting ; for I maintained with
stance with me, that I should scarce have Whiston, that it was unlawful for a priest
remembered to mention it, had it not of the church of England, after the death
been a general topic of conversation in of his first wife, to take a second : or, to
the country. Olivia, now about eighteen, express it in one word, valued myself upon
had the luxuriancy of beauty with which being a strict monogamist.
I was early initiated into this important
painters generally draw Hebe ; open,
sprightly, and commanding. Sophia's fea- dispute, on which so many laborious votures were not so striking at first, but often lumes have been written. I published
did more certain execution ; for they were some tracts upon the subject myself, which,
soft, modest, and alluring. The one van- as they never sold, I have the consolation
quished by a single blow, the other by ef- of thinking are only read by the happy
few. Some of my friends called this my
forts successively repeated.
me,
The temper of a woman is generally weak side ; but alas ! they had not,
formed from the turn of her features; at made it a subject of long contemplation.
least it was so with my daughters. Olivia The more I reflected upon it, the more imwished for many lovers; Sophia to secure portant it appeared. I even went a step
one. Olivia was often affected, from too beyond Whiston in displaying my princigreat a desire to please; Sophia even re- ples : as he had engraven upon, his wife's
pressed excellence, from her fears to offend. tomb, that she was the only wife of Wilhe one entertained me with her vivacity, liam Whiston; so I wrote a similar epiwhen I was gay, the other with her sense, taph for my wife, though still living, in
when I was serious. But these qualities which I extolled her prudence, economy,
were never carried to excess in either ; and obedience till death; and having got it
and I have often seen them exchange cha- copied fair, with an elegant frame, it was
racters for a whole day together. A suit placed over the chimney-piece, where it
of mourning has transformed my coquette answered several very useful purposes. It
into a prude, and a new set of ribbons admonished my wife of her duty to me;
given her younger sister more than natural and my fidelity to her ; it inspired her
vivacity. My eldest son George was bred with a passion for fame, and constantly put
at Oxford, as I intended him for one of her in mind of her end.
It was thus, perhaps, from hearing marthe learned professions. My second boy,
Moses, whom I designed for business, re- riage so often recommended, that my eldest
ceived a sort ofa miscellaneous education at son, just upon leaving college, fixed his afhome. But it would be needless to attempt fections upon the daughter of a neighbour.
describing the particular characters of ing clergyman, who was a dignitary in the
young people that had seen but very little church, and in circumstances to give her a
of the world. In short, a family likeness large fortune; but fortune was her smallest
prevailed through all: and, properly speak- accomplishment. Miss Arabella Wilmot
ing, they had but one character, that of was allowed by all, except my two daughbeing all equally generous, credulous, sim- ters, to be completely pretty. Her youth
health, and innocence, were still heightple, and inoffensive.

on.

like

VICAR OF WAKEFIELD.
cned by a complexion so transparent, and out by one of my relations, who, with aface
such a happy sensibility of look, that even of concern, advised me to give up the disage could not gaze with indifference. As pute, and allow the old gentleman to be a
Mr. Wilmot knew that I could make a husband, if he could, at least till my son's
handsome settlement on my son, he was wedding was over. " How," cried I, "renot averse to the match; so both families linquish the cause of truth, and let him be
lived together in all that harmony which a husband, already driven to the very
generally precedes an expected alliance. verge of absurdity. You might as well adBeing convinced by experience, that the vise me to give up my fortune as my argudays of courtship are the most happy of ment." " That fortune," returned my
our lives, I was willing enough to lengthen friend, " I am now sorry to inform you, is
the period; and the various amusements almost nothing. Your merchant in town
which the young couple every day shared in whose hands the money was lodged, has
to
in each other's company, seemed to in- gone off, avoid a statute of bankruptcy,
crease their passion. We were generally and, it is thought, has not left a shilling in
in the morning by music, and on the pound. I was unwilling to shock you
awaked
fine days rode a-hunting. The hours be- or the family with the account till after the
tween breakfast and dinner the ladies de- wedding : but now it may serve to modervoted to dress and study: they usually ate your warmth in the argument; for I
read a page, and then gazed at themselves suppose your own prudence will enforce
in the glass, which even philosophers might the necessity of dissembling, at least till
own often presented the page of greatest your son has the young lady's fortune sc'
beauty. At dinner my wife took the lead ; cure. " Well," returned I, " if what you
for, as she always insisted upon carving tell me be true, and if I am to be a beggar,
every thing herself, it being her mother's it shall never make me a rascal, or induce
way, she gave us, upon those occasions, me to disavow my principles. I'll go this
the history of every dish. When we had moment, and inform the company of ray
dined, to prevent the ladies leaving us, I circumstances: and as for the argument,
generally ordered the table to be removed ; I even here retract my former concessions
I
and sometimes, with the music-master's as- in the old gentleman's favour, nor will de
sistance, the girls would give us a very allow him now to be a husband, either
agreeable concert. Walking out, drinking jure, defacto, or in any sense of theexpri.tea, country dances, and forfeits, shortened sion."
It would be endless to describe the di .
the rest of the day, without the assistance
of cards, as I hated all sorts of gaming, ex- ferent sensations of both families, when I
cept backgammon, at which my old friend divulged the news of my misfortune : but
and I sometimes took a twopenny hit. Nor what others felt was slight to what the
endure.
can I here pass over an ominous circum- young lovers appeared to sufficiently it:r.
istance that happened the last time we Wilmot, who seemed before
played together. I only wanted to fling a clined to break off the match, was by this
: one virtue he had
quatre, and yet I threw deuce ace five times blow soon determined
in perfection, which was prudence, too
running.
Some months were elapsed in this man- ten the only virtue that is left us un aner, till at last it was thought convenient paired at seventy-two.
to fix a day for the nuptials of the young
couple, who seemed earnestly to desire it.
During the preparations for the wedding, I
CHAP. III.
need not describe the busy importance of
my wife, nor the sly looks of my daughters:
in fact, my attention was fixed on another A Migration. The fortunate circunstaers
of our lives aregenerallyfound at las t
object, the completing a tract which I inbe of our own procuring.
tended shortly to publish in defence of moas a masternogamy. As I looked upon this
now was, I
piece, both for argument and style, I could TiE only hope of our family
not, in the pride of my heart, avoid show- the report of our misfortunes might be rxy
licious or premature : but a letter from
ing it to my old friend Mr. Wilmot, as I
made no doubt of receiving his approba- agent in town, soon came with a confirm.tion: but, too late, I discovered that he tion of every particular. The loss of ifwas most violently attached to the contrary tune to myself alone would have been triopinion, and with good reason; for he was fling; the only uneasiness I felt was for mv
at that time actually courting a fourth family, who were to be humble, without
wife. This, as may be expected, produced such an education as could render then.
i dispute, attended with some acrimony, callous to contempt.
Near a fortnight passed away, before I
which threatened to interrupt our intended
ulliance; but, on the day before that ap- attempted to restrain their affliction; for
pointed for the ceremony, we agreed to premature consolation is but the remembrance of sorrow. During this interval,
discuss the subject at large.
It was managed with proper spirit on my thoughts were employed on some future
both sides. He asserted that I was hete- means of supporting them; and at last, a
cure of fifteen pounds a year was ofrodox; I retorted the charge: he replied, small
and I rejoined. In the meantime, while fered me in a dy.ant neighbourhood, where
was hottest, I was called SI could still enjoy my principles without
the controversy
D2

c-

n-

VICAR OF WAKEFIELD.
molestation. With this proposal I joyfully
closed, having determined to increase my
salary by managing a farm.
Having taken this resolution, my next
care was to get together the wrecks of my
fortune; and all debts collected and paid,
out of fourteen thousand pounds, we had
now but four hundred remaining. My
chief attention, therefore, was next to
bring down the pride of my family to their
circumstances ; for I well knew, that aspiring beggary is wretchedness itself. "You
can't be ignorant, my children," cried I,
" that no prudence of ours could have prevented our late misfortune; but prudence
may do much in disappointing its effects.
We are now poor, my fondlings, and
wisdom bids us conform to our humble
situation. Let us then, without repining,
give up those splendours with which numbers are wretched, and seek, in humbler
circumstances, that peace with which all
may be happy. The poor live pleasantly
without our help, and we are not so imperfectly formed, as to be incapable of living
without theirs. No, my children, let us
from this moment give up all pretensions
to gentility; we have still enough left us
for happiness, if we are wise, and let us
draw upon content for the deficiences of
fortune."
As my eldest son was bred a scholar, I
determined to send him to town, where his
abilities might contribute to our support
and his own. The separation of friends and
families is, perhaps, one of the most distressful circumstances attendant on penury.
Ihe day soon arrived, on which we were
to disperse for the first time. My son, after
taking leave of his mother and the rest,
who mingled their tears with kisses, came
to ask a blessing from me. This I gave
him from my heart, and which, added to
five guineas, was all the patrimony I had
now to bestow. " You are going, my boy,"
cried I, " to London on foot, in the manner Hooker, your great ancestor, travelled
there before you. Take from me the same
horse that was given him by the good
Bishop Jewel; this staff, and this book too,
it will be your comfort on the way : these
two lines in it are worth a million : ' I have
been young, and now am old: never yet
saw I the righteous man forsaken, or his
seed begging their bread.' Let this be your
cosolation as you travel on. Go, my boy,
whatever be thy fortune, let me see thee
once a year: still keep a good heart, and
farewell." As he was possessed of integrity
and honour, I was under no apprehensions
from throwing him naked into the amphitheatre of life; for I knew he would act a
good part, whether he rose or fell.
His departure only prepared the way for
our own, which arrived a few days afterwards. The leaving a neighbourhood in
which we had enjoyed so many hours of
tranquillity, was not without a tear, which
scarce fortitude itself could suppress. Besides, a journey of seventy miles, to a family that had hitherto never been above ten
from home, filled us with apprehension ;

and the cries of the poor, who followed us
for some miles, contributed to increase it.
The first day's journey brought insafety
us
within thirty miles of our future retreat,
and we put up for the night in an obscure
inn, in a village by the way. When we
were shown a room, I desired thelandlord,
in my usual way, to let us have his company; with which he complied, as what
he drank would increase the bill next
morning. He knew however the whole
neighbourhood to which I was removing,
particularly Squire Thornhill, who was to
be my landlord, and who lived within a few
milesof the place. This gentleman he
described as one who desired to know little
more of the world, than the pleasures it
afforded, being particularly remarkable for
his attachment to the fair sex. He observed, that no virtue was able to resist his arts
and assiduity, and that there was scarce a
farmer's daughter, within ten miles round,
but what had found him successful and
faithless. Though this account gave me
some pain, it had a very different effect
upon my daughters,whose features seemed
to brighten, with the expectation of an
approaching triumph; nor was my wife
less pleased and confident of their allurements and virtue. While our thoughts
were thus employed, the hostess entered
the room, to inform her husband, that the
strange gentleman, who had been two days
in the house, wanted money, and could not
satisfy them for his reckoning. " Want
money !"replied the host, " that must be
impossible; for it was no later than yesterday, that he paid three guineas to our
beadle, to spare an old broken soldier, that
was to be whipped through the town for
dog-stealing." The hostess, however, still
persisting in her first assertion, he was
preparing to leave the room, swearing that
he would be satisfied one way or another,
when I begged the landlord would introduce me to a stranger of so much charity
as he described. With this he complied,
showing in a gentleman, who seemed to be
about thirty, dressed in clothes that once
were laced. His person was well formed,
though his face was marked with the lines
of thinking. He had something short and
dry in his address, and seemed not to understand ceremony, or to despise it. Upon
the landlord's leaving the room, I could
not avoid expressing my concern to the
stranger, at seeing a gentleman in such
circumstances, and ofbfered him my purse
to satisfy the present demand. " I take it
with all my heart, Sir," replied he, "and I
am glad that a late oversight, in giving
what money I had about me, has shown
me there is still some benevolence left
among us. I must, however, previously
entreat being informed of the name and residence of my benefactor, in order to remit
it as soon as possible." In this I satisfied
him fully, only mentioning my name
not
and late misfortunes, but the place to
which I was going to remove.
'This,"
cried he, " happens still more luckily than
I hoped for, as I am going the same way

VICAR OF WAKEFIELD.
myself, having been detained here two and his soul laboured under a sickly sensi.
days by the floods, which, I hope, by to- biiity of the miseries of others. Thus dis.
morrow will be found passable." I testi- posed to relieve, it will be easily conjectur.
fled the pleasure I should have in his corn- ed, he found numbers disposed to solicit: his
pany; and my wife and daughters joining profusions began to impair his fortune,
in intreaty, he was prevailed upon to stay but not his good nature; that, indeed,
to supper. The stranger's conversation, was seen to increase, as the other seemed
which was at once pleasing and instructive, to decay; he grew improvident as he grew
induced me to wish for a continuance of it ; poor; and though he talked like a man of
but it was now high time to retire, and take sense, his actions were those of a fooL
refreshment against the fatigues of the fol- Still, however, being surrounded with im.
lowing day.
portunity, and no longer able to satisfy
The next morning we all set forward to. every request that was made him, instead
gether; my family on horseback, while of money he gave promises: they were all
Mr. Burchell, our new companion, walked he had to bestow, and he had not resolualong the foot-path by the road-side, ob. tion enough to give any man pain by a
serving, with a smile, that as we were ill denial. By this means, he drew round
mounted, he would be too generous to at- him crowds of dependants, whom he was
tempt leaving us behind. As the floods sure to disappoint, yet wished to relieve.
Were not yet subsided, we were obliged to These hung upon him for a time, and left
hire a guide, who trotted on before, Mr. him with merited reproaches and conBurchell and I bringing up the rear. We tempt. But in proportion as he became
lightened the fatigues of the road with contemptible to others, he became despica.
philosophical disputes, which he seemed ble to himself. His mind had leaned upon
perfectly to understand. But what sur- their adulation, and that support taken
prised me most was, that though he was a away, he could find no pleasure in the apmoney borrower, yet he defended his
opin- plause of his heart, which he had never
ions with as much obstinacy, as if he had learned to reverence. The world now be.
been my patron.-He now and then also gan to wear a different aspect; the flattery
informed me, to whom the different seats of his friends began to dwindle into simbelonged that lay in our view, as we tra. ple approbation, and soon took the more
velled the road. " That," cried he, point- friendly form of advice; and advice when
ing to a very magnificent house, which rejected, ever begets rcproaches. He now
stood at some distance, " belongs to Mr. found, that such friends as benefits had
Thornhill, a young gentleman who enjoys gathered round him, were by no means
a large fortune, though entirely dependent the most estimable : it was now found,
on the will of his uncle, Sir William that a man's own heart must be ever given
Thornhill, a gentleman who, content with to gain that of another. I found thata little himself, permits his nephew to en- but I forget what I was going to observe,
joy the rest, and chiefly resides in town." in short, Sir, he resolved to respect him-" What !"cried I, "is my young land. self, and laid down a plan of restoring his
lord then the nephew of a man, whose vir. shattered fortune. For this purpose, in
tues, generosity, and singularities, are so his own whimsical manner, he travelled
universally known ? I have heard Sir WVil.
through Europe on foot, and before he atliamThornhill represented as one of the tained age of thirty, his circumstances
the
most generous, yet whimsical men in the were more affluent than ever. At present,
kingdom; a man of consummate benevo. therefore, his bounties are more rational
lence."-" Something perhaps too much and moderate than before: but still he
so," replied Mr. Burchell; " at least he preserves the character of a humourist,
carried benevolence to an excess when and finds
most pleasure in eccentric vir.
young; for his passions were then strong, tues."
and as they all were upon the side of vir.
My attention was so much taken up by
tue,
they led it up to a romantic extresme. Mr. Burchell's account, that I scarce lookHe early began to aim at the qualifica-. ed forward as we went along, till alarmed
tions of the soldier and scholar, was soon by the cries of my family; when turning,
distinguished in the army, and had some I perceived my youngest daughter in the
reputation among men of learning. Adu. midst of a rapid stream, thrown from her
lation ever follows the ambitious; for horse, and struggling with the torrent.
such alone receive most pleasure from She had sunk twice, nor was it in my
Vattery. He was surrounded with crowds, power to disengage myself in time to bring
who showed him only one side of their her relief. My sensations were even too
character; so that he began to lose a re. violent to permit my attempting her resgard for private interest in universal sym.- cue. She would have certainly perished,
pathy. He loved all mankind, for fortune had not my companion, perceiving her
prevented him from knowing that there danger, instantly plunged in to her relief,
were rascals. Physicians tell us of a dis. and, with some difficulty, brought her in
order in which the whole body is so ex. safety to the opposite shore. By taking
quisitely sensible, that the slightest touchthe current a little farther up, the rest of
gives pain. What some have thus suffer.- the family got safely over, where we had
ed in their persns, this gentleman felt in an opportunity of joining our ackniowhis mind. The slightest distress, whether ledgments to hers. Her gratitude romay
real or fictitious, touched him to the quick be more readily imagined than described.
f
A3

VICAR, OF WAKEFIELD.
-- She thanked her deliverer more with
looks than words, and continued to lean
upon his arm, as if still willing to receive
assistance. My wife also hoped, one day,
to have the pleasure of returning his kindiiess at her own house. Thus, after we
were all refreshed at the next inn, and
had dined together, as he was going to a
different part of the country, he took his
leave, and we pursued our journey; my
wife observing as we went, that she liked
Mr. Burchell extremely, and protesting
that if he had birth and fortune to entitle
him to match into such a family as ours,
she knew no man she would sooner fix
upon. I could not but smile to hear her
talk in this strain: one almost on the
verge of beggary, thus to assume language
of the most insulting affluence, might excite the ridicule of ill-nature; but I was
never much displeased with those innocent delusions, that tend to make us more
happy.

CHAP. IV.
A profthat even the humblest fortune meay
grant happiness and delight, which depend not on circumstances but constitution.
TIn place of our new retreat was in a
little neighbourhood, consisting of farmers
who tilled their own grounds, and were
coual strangers to opulence and poverty.
As they had almost all the conveniences
of life within themselves, they seldom visited towns or cities in search of superfluity. Remote from the polite, they still retained a primeval simplicity of manners,
and frugal by long habit, scarce knew that
temperance was a virtue. They wrought
with cheerfulness on days of labour; but
observed festivals, as intervals of idleness
and pleasure. They kept up the Christmas carol; sent true-love knots on Valentine morning; eat pancakes on Shrovetide; showed their wit on the first of
April; and religiously cracked nuts on
Michaelmas eve. Being apprized of our
approach, the whole neighbourhood came
out to meet their minister, dressed in their
finest clothes, and preceded by a pipe and
tabor: also a feast was provided for our
reception, at which we sat cheerfully
down ; and what the conversation wanted
in wit, we made up in laughter.
Our little habitation was situated at the
foot of a sloping hill, sheltered with a
beautiful underwood behind, and a prattling river before; on one side a meadow,
on the other a green. My farm consisted
of about twenty acres or excellent land,
having given a hundred pounds for my
predecessor's good-will. Nothing could exceed the neatness of my little inclosures,
the elms and hedge-rows appearing with
inexpressible beauty. My house consisted
of but one story, and was covered with
thatch, which gave it an air of great snug-

ness; the walls, on the inside, were nicely
white-washed, and my daughters undertook to adorn them with pictures of their
own designing. Though the same room
served us for a parlour and kitchen, that
only made it the warmer. Besides, as it was
kept in the utmost neatness, the plates,
dishes, and coppers being well scoured,
and all disposed in bright rows on the
shelves, the eye was agreeably relieved,
and did not seem to want rich furniture.
There were three other apartments, one
for my wife and me, another for our two
daughters, within our own, and the third,
with two beds, for the rest of my children.
The little republic to which I gave laws
was regulated in the following manner:
By sun rise, we all assembled in our common apartment, the fire being previously
kindled by the servant. After we had
saluted each other with proper ceremony,
(for I always thought fit to keep up some
mechanical forms of good breeding, without which freedom ever destroys friendship,) we all bent in gratitude to that
Being who gave us another day. This
duty being performed, my son and I went
to pursue our usual industry abroad, while
my wife and daughters employed them.
selves in providing breakfast, which was
always ready at a certain time. I allowed
half an hour for this meal, and an hour
for dinner; which time was taken up in
innocent mirth between my wife and
daughters, and in philosophical arguments
between my son and me.
As we arose with the sun, so we never
pursued our labours after it was gone
down, but returned home to the expecting family, where smiling looks, a neat
hearth and pleasant fire, were prepared
for our reception. Nor were we without
other guests: sometimes Farmer Elamborough, our talkative neighbour, and often the blind piper, would pay us a visit,
and taste our gooseberry wine, for the making of which we had lost neither the receipt nor reputation. These harmless people had several ways of being good company : while one played the pipes, another
would sing some soothing ballad, Johnny
Armstrong's Last Good Night, or the Cruelty of Barbara Allen. The night was con.
eluded in the manner we began the morning, my youngest boys being appointed to
read the lessons of the day ; and he that
read loudest, distinctest, and best, was to
have a half-penny on Sunday, to put in
the poor's box.
When Sunday came, it was indeed a
day of finery, which all my sumptuary
edicts could not restrain. How well soever I fancied my lectures against pride
had conquered the vanity of my daughters,
yet I still found them secretly attached
to all their former finery: they still loved
laces, ribbons, bugles, and catgut; my
witfe herself retained a passion for her
crimson paduasoy, because I formerly happened to say it became her.
The first Sunday, in particular, their
behaviour served to mortify me. I had

VICAR OF WAKEFIELD.
desired .mygirls, the preceding night, to
be dressed early the next day; for I always
loved to be at church befoie the rest of
the congregation. They punctually obeyed my directions. But when we were to
assemble in the morning at breakfast,
down came my wife and daughters, dressed in all their former splendour; their
hair plastered up with pomatum, their
faces patched to taste, their trains bundiled up into a heap behind, and rustling
at every motion. I could not help smiling
at their vanity, particularly that of my
wife, from whom I expected more discretion; in this exigence, therefore, my only
resource was to order my son, with an important air, to call our coach. The girls
were amazed at the command; but I repeated it with more solemnity than before.
' Surely, my dear, you jest," cried my
wife; " we can walk it perfectly well : we
want no coach to carry us now." " You
mistake, child," returned I, " we do want
a coach ; for if we walk to church in this
trim, the ve-vchildren of the parish would
hoot after us for a show." " Indeed," repiled my wife, " I always imagined that
my Charles was fond of seeing his children
You
neat and handsome about him."
may be as neat as you please," interrupted
I, " and I shall love you the better for it ;
but all this is not neatness, but frippery.
These rufflings, and pinkings, and patchings, only make us hated by the wives
will
of all our neighbours. No, my children,"
continued I, more gravely, " these gowns
may be altered into something of a plainer
cut; for finery is very unbecoming in us,
who want the means of decency. I do not
know whether such flouncing and shreding
is becoming, even in the rich, if we consider, upon a moderate calculation, that the
nakedness of the indigent world may be
clothed from the trimmings of the vain."
This remonstrance had the proper effect:
they went with great composure, that very
instant, to change their dress; and the
next day I had the satisfaction of finding
my daughters, at their own request, employed in cutting up their trains into Sun.
day waistcoats for Dick and Bill, the two
little ones; and, what was still more satisfactory, the gowns seemed improved by
being thus curtailed.

"

CHAP. V.
A new and great acquaintance introduced.
upon generally
What we place
most
hopes
proves most fatal.
AT a small distance from the house, my
predecessor had made a seat, overshadowed by a hedge of hawthorn and honeysuckle. Here, when the weather was fine,
and our labour soon finished, we usually
sat all together, to enjoy an extensive
landscape in the calm of the evening.
Here too we drank tea, which was now
become an occasional banquet, and, as we

had it but seldom, it diffused a new joy,
the preparations for it being made with no
small share of bustle and ceremony. On
these occasions, our two little ones always
read for us, and they were regularly served
after we had done. Sometimes, to give a
variety to our amusements, the girls sung
to the guitar; and, while they thus formed a little concert, my wife and I would
stroll down the sloping field, that was embellished with blue bells and centaury, talk
of our children with rapture, and enjoy
the breeze that wafted both health and
harmony.
In this manner we began to find that
every situation in life might bring its own
peculiar pleasures: every morning waked
us to a repetition of toil; but the evening
repaid it with vacant hilarity.
It was about the beginning of autumn,
on a holiday (for 1 kept such as intervals
of relaxation from labour), that I had
drawn out my family to our usual place of
amusement, and our young musicians began their usual concert. As we were thus
engaged, we saw a stag bound nimbly by,
within about twenty paces of where we
were sitting, and, by its panting, it seemed
pressed by the hunters.
We had not much time to reflect upon
the poor animal's distress, when we perceived the dogs and horsemen come sweeping along at some distance behind, and
making the very path it had taken.
I was instantly for returning in with my
family; but either curiosity or surprise,
or some more hidden motive, held my wife
and daughters to their seats. The huntsman who rode foremost passed us with
great swiftness, followed by four or five
persons more, who seemed in equal haste.
At last a young gentleman, of a more genteel appearance than the rest, came forward, and for a while regarding us, instead of pursuing the chase, stopped short,
and, giving his horse to a servant who attended, approached us with a careless superior air. He seemed to want no introduction, but was going to salute my
daughters, as one certain of a kind reception; but they had early learned the les.
son of looking presumption out of countenance. Upon which he let us know, that
his name was Thornhill, and that he was
owner of the estate that lay for some extent round us. He again, therefore, offered to salute the female part of the family;
and, such was the power of fortune and
fine clothes, that he found no second repulse. As his address, though confident, was
easy, we soon became more familiar ; and
perceiving musical instruments lying near,
he begged to be favoured with a song. As
I did not approve of such disproportioned
acquaintances, I winked upon my daughters to prevent their compliance; but my
hint was counteracted by one from their
mother; so that, with a cheerful air, they
gave us a favourite song of Dryden's. Mr.
Thornhill seemed highly delighted with
their performance and choice, and then
took up the guitar himself. He played

VICAR OF WAKEFIELD.
but very indifferently : however, my eldest
daughter repaid his former applause with
interest, and assured him that his tones
were louder than even those of her master. At this compliment he bowed, which
she returned with a curtsey. He praised
her taste, and she commended his understanding. An age could not have made
them better acquainted: while the fond
mother, too, equally happy, insisted upon
her landlord's stepping in, and taking a
glass of her gooseberry. The whole family seemed earnest to please him; my girls
attempted to entertain him with topics
they thought most modern, while Moses,
on the contrary, gave him a question or
two from the ancients, for which he had
the satisfaction of being laughed at: for he
always ascribed to his wit that laughter
which was levelled at his simplicity: my
little ones were no less busy, and fondly
stuck close to the stranger. All my endeavours could scarce keep their dirty
fingers from handling and tarnishing the
lace on his clothes, and lifting up the flaps
of his pocket holes, to see what was there.
At the approach of evening he took his
leave; but not till he had requested per.
mission to renew his visit, which, as he
was our landlord, we most readily agreed to.
As soon as lie was gone, my wife called a
council on the conduct of the day. She was
of opinion that it was a most fortunate hit ;
for that she had known even stranger
things at last brought to bear. She hoped
again to see the day when we might hold
up our heads with the best of them; and
concluded, she protested she could see
no reason why the two Misses Wrinkler
should marry great fortunes, and her children get none. As this last argument was
directed to me, I protested I could see no
reason for it neither, nor why one got the
ten thousand pounds prize in the lottery,
and another sat down with a blank. "But
those," added I, " who either aim at husbands greater than themselves, or at the
ten thousand pounds prize, have been
fools for their ridiculous claims, whether
successful or not." " I protest, Charles,"
cried my wife, " this is the way you always damp my girls and me when we are
in spirits. Tell me, Sophy, my dear, what
do you think of our new visitor? Don't
you think he seemed to be good-natured?"
Immensely so, indeed, Mamma," replied she. " I think he has a great deal to
say upon every thing, and is never at a
loss; and the more trifling the subject, the
more he has to say; and, what is more, I
protest he is very handsome." " Yes,"
cried Olivia, " he is well enough for a
man; but, for my part, I don't much like
him, he is so extremely impudent and familiar : but on the guitar he is shocking."
These two last speeches I interpreted by
contraries. I found by this, that Sophy
internally despised, as much as Olivia secretly admired him. " Whatever may
be your opinion of him, my children," cried
I, "to confess a truth, he has not much
prepossessed me in his favour. Dispropor-

tioned friendships ever terminate in dis.
gust; and I thought notwithstanding all
his ease, that he seemed perfectly sensible
of the distance between us. Let us keep to
companions of our own rank. There is no
character among men more contemptible
than that of a fortune-hunter; and I can
see no reason why fortune-hunting women
should not be contemptible too. Thus, at
best, it will be contempt if his views are
honourable; but, if they are otherwise! I
should shudder but to think of that ! for
though I have no apprehensions from the
conduct of my children, I think there are
some from his character." I would have
proceeded, but for the interruption of a
servant from the squire, who, with his
compliments, sent us a side of venison, and
a promise to dine with us some days after.
This well-timed present pleaded more
powerfully in his favour than any thing I
had to say could obviate. I therefore continued silent, satisfied with just having
pointed out danger, and leaving it to their
own discretion to avoid it. That virtue
which requires to be ever guarded, is
scarce worth the sentinel.

CHAP. VI.
The happiness of a country Fire-side.
As we carried on the former dispute with
some degree of warmth, in order to accommodate matters, it was universally concluded upon, that we should have part of
the venison for supper, and the girls undertook the task with alacrity. " I am sorry,"
cried I, "that we have no neighbour or
stranger to take part in this good cheer :
feasts of this kind acquire a double relish
from hospitality."-" Bless me," cried my
wife, "here comes our good friend Mr.
Burchell, that saved our Sophia, and that
run you down fairly in the argument.""Confute me in argument ! child," cried
I, "you mistake there, my dear. I believe there are but few that can do that; I
never dispute your abilities at making a
goose-pie, and I beg you'll leave argument
to me." As I spoke, poor Mr. Burchell
entered the house, and was welcomed by
the family, who shook him heartily by the
hand, while little Dick officiously reached
him a chair.
I was pleased with the poor man's friendship, for two reasons; because I knew he
wanted mine, and I knew him tobe friendly as far as he was able. He was known in
our neighbourhood by the character of the
poor gentleman that would do no good
when he was young, though he was not yet
above thirty. He would at intervals talk
with great good sense; but, in general, he
was fondest of the company of children,
whom he used to call harmless little men.
He was famous, I found, for singing them
ballads, and telling them stories; and seldom went about without something in his
pockets for them, a piece of gingerbread,

VICAR OF WAKEFIELD.
or a halfpenny whistle. He generally came
into our neighbourhood once a-year, and
lived upon the neighbours' hospitality. He
at down to supper amongst us, and my
wife was not sparing of her gooseberrywine. The tale went round ; he sung us
old songs, and gave the children the story
of the Buck of Beverland, with the story of
Patient GrizeL The adventures of Catskin
next entertained them, and then Fair Rosamond's Bower. Our cock, which always
crew at eleven, now told us it was time
to repose; but an unforeseen difficulk
ty started about lodging a stranger; all
our beds were already taken up, and it was
too late to send him to the next alehouse.
In this dilemma, little Dick offered him
his part of the bed, if his brother Moses
would let him lie with him: "And I,"
cried Bill, " will give Mr. Burchell my
part, if my sisters will take me to theirs."
"Well done my good children," cried I,
" hospitality is one of the first Christian
duties. The beast retires to his shelter,
and the bird flies to its nest; but helpless
man can only find refuge from his fellow
creature. The greatest stranger in this
world was he that came to save it. He never
had a house, as if willing to see what
hospitality was left remaining amongst us.
Deborah, my dear," cried I to my wife,
"give those boys a lump of sugar each,
and let Dick's be the largest, because he
spoke first."
In the morning early I called out my
whole family, to help at saving an after
growth of hay, and our guest offering his assistance, he was accepted among the number. Our labours went on lightly; we turned
the swath to the wind: I went foremost,
and the rest followed in due succession. I
could not avoid, however, observing the
assiduity of Mr. Burchell in assisting my
daughter Sophia in her part of the task.
When he had finished his own, he would
join in hers, and enter into a close conversation: but I had too good an opinion of
Sophia's understanding, and was too well
convinced of her ambition, to be under
any uneasiness from a man of broken fortune. When we were finished for the day,
Mr. Burchell was invited, as on the night
before; but he refused, as he was to lie
that night at a neighbour's, to whose child
he was carrying a whistle. When gone,
our conversation at supper turned upon
our late unfortunate guest. " What a
strong instance," said I, "is that poor
man of the miseries attending a youth of
levity and extravagance.-He by no means
wants sense, which only serves to aggravate his former folly. Poor forlorn creature! where are now the revellers, the
flatterers, that he could once inspire and
command ? Gone, perhaps, to attend the
bagnio-pander grown rich by his extravagance. They once praised him, and now
they applaud the pander; their former
raptures at his wit are now converted into
sarcasms at his folly : he is poor, and perhaps deserves poverty; for he has neither
the ambition to be independent, nor the

skill to be useful" Prompted, perhaps,
by some secret reasons, I delivered this
observation with too much acrimony,
which my Sophia gently reproved." Whatsoever his former conduct may be,
Papa, his circumstances should exempt
him from censure now. His present indi.
gence is a sufficient punishment for former
folly; and I have heard my Papa himself
say, that we should never strike one unnecessary blow at a victim over whom Providence already holds the scourge of its resentment."
"You are right, Sophy,"
cried my son Moses; " and one of the
ancients finely. represents so malicious a
conduct, by the attempts of a rustic to flay
Marsyas, whose skin the fable tells us, had
been wholly stript offby another. Besides,
I don't know if this poor man's situation
be so bad as my father would represent it.
We are not to judge of the feelings of
others by what we might feel if in their
place. However dark the habitation of the
mole may be to our eyes, yet the animal
itself finds the apartment sufficiently lightsome. And, to confess a truth, this man's
mind seems fitted to his station ; for I
never heard any one more sprightly than
he was to-day, when he conversed with
you." This was said without the least design : however it excited a blush, which
she strove to cover by an affected laugh,
assuring him, that she scarce took any notice of what he said to her : but that she
believed he might once have been a very
fine gentleman. The readiness with which
she undertook to vindicate herself, and her
blushing, were symptoms I did not internally approve; but I repressed my sus.
picions.
As we expected our landlord the next
day, my wife went to make the venison
pasty; Moses sat reading, while I taught
the little ones: my daughters seemed
equally busy with the rest; and I observed
them for a good while cooking something
over the fire. I at first supposed they were
assisting their mother; but little Dick informed me, in a whisper, that they were
making a wash for the face. Washes of all
kinds I had a natural antipathy to; for I
knew, that instead of mending the com.
plexion, they spoiled it. I therefore ap.
proached my chair by slow degrees to the
fire, and grasping the poker, as if it wanted
mending, seemingly, by accident, over.
turned the whole composition; and it was
too late to begin another.

CHAP. VII.
A town wit described. The dullest fellow
may learn to be comical for a night o,
two.
WHEN the morning arrived on which we
were to entertain our new landlord, it may
be easily supposed that provisions were ex
hausted to make an appearance. It may
also be conjectured, that my wife and

10

VICAR OF WAKEFIELD.

daughters expended their gayest plumage quick,) the premises being thus settled, I
upon this occasion. Mr. Thornhill came proceed to observe, that the concatenation
with a couple of friends, his chaplain and of self-existences proceeding in a reciprofeeder. The servants, who were numer- cal duplicate ratio, naturally produce a
ous, he politely ordered to the next ale- problematical dialogism, which in some
.house : but my wife in the triumph of her measure proves, that the essence of spiriheart, insisted upon entertaining them all ; tuality may be referred to the second prefor which, by the bye, the family was dicable." " Hold, hold, (cried the other,)
pinched for three weeks after. As Mr. I deny that: do you think I can thus
Burchell had hinted to us the day before, tamely submit to such heterodox docthat he was makingsome proposals of mar- trines ?" " What, (replied the squire, as
riage to Miss Wilmot, my son George's ! if in a passion,) not submit! answer me
former mistress, this a good deal damped one plain question: do you think Aristo.
-the heartiness of his reception ; but acci- tle right, when he says that relatives are
dent, in some measure, relieved our em- related ?" " Undoubtedly," replied the
"
If so, then, (cried the squire) anbarrassment; for one of the company hap- other.
pening to mention her na-ne, Mr. Thorn- swer me directly to what I propose :
nill observed, with an oath, that he never whether do you judge the analytical in.
knew any thing more absurd, than calling vestigation of the first part of my enthysuch a fright a beauty : "For, strike me meme deficient, secundum quoad, or quoad
ugly," continued he, If I should not find minus? and give me your reasons too; give
as much pleasure, in choosing my mistress meyourreasons, I say, directly." "I protest,
by the information of a lamp, under the (cried Moses,) I don't rightly comprehend
clock of St. Dunstan's." At *his he laugh- the force of your reasoning; but if it be
ed, and so did we :-The jesti of the rich reduced to one simple proposition, I fancy
are ever successful. Olivia, too, could not it may then have an answer." " O Sir,"
avoid whispering, loud enough to be heard, cried the squire, "I am your most humble servant : I find you want me to furnish
that he had an infinite fund of humour.
After dinner, I began with my usual you with arguments and intellects both.
toast, the Church: for this I was thanked No, Sir, there I protest you are too hard
by the chaplain, as he said the church was for me."-This effectually raisedthe laugh
the only mistress of his affection.-" Come against poor Moses, who sat the only distell us honestly, Frank," said the squire, mal figure in a group of merry faces; nor
with his usual archness, " suppose the did he offer a single syllable more during
church, your present mistress, dressed in the whole entertainment.
lawn sleeves on one hand, and Miss Sophia
But though all this gave me no pleasure,
with no lawn about her on the other, it had a very different effect upon Olivia,
which would you be for ?" For both, to who mistook this humour, which was a
be sure, (cried the chaplain.) " Right, mere act of the memory, for real wit. She
Frank, (cried the squire;) for may this thought him, therefore, a very fine genglass suffocate me, but a fine girl is worth tleman; and such as consider what powerall the priestcraft in the nation. For what ful ingredients a good figure, fine clothes,
are tythes and tricks but an imposition, all and fortune are, in that character, will
a confounded imposture; and I can prove easily forgive her.
Mr. Thornhill, notwithstanding his real
it."-" I wish you would, (cried my son
Moses,) and 1 think, (continued he,) that ignorance, talked with ease, and could ex.
topics of converI should be able to combat in the opposi- patiate upon the conunmmon
tion."-" Very well, Sir, (cried the squire, sation with fluency. It is not surprising,
who immediately smoked him, and wink- then, that such talents should win the afing on the rest of the company to prepare fections of a girl, who, by education was
us for the sport,) if you are for a cool ar- taught to value an appearance in herself,
gument upon that subject, I am ready to and consequently to set a value upon it
accept the challenge. And, first, whether, when found in another.
Upon his departure, we again entered inare you for managing it analogically or dia.
logically " " I am for managing it ra- to a debate upon the merits of our young
tionally," cried Moses, quite happy at be- landlord. As he directed his looks and
ing permitted to dispute. "Good again, conversation to Olivia, it was no longe"
(cried the squire;) and firstly, of the first, dotrbted, but that she was the object that
I hope you will not deny, that whatever is, induced him to be our visitor. Nor did
is. If you don't grant me that, I can go she seem to be much displeased at the inno further."-" Why, (returned Moses,) I nocent raillery of her brother and sister
think I may grant that, and make the best upon this occasion. Even Deborah her.
of it."-" I hope too, (returned the other,) self seemed to share the glory of the day,
you'll grant that a part is less than the and exulted in her daughter's victory, as
whole." " I grant that too, (cried Moses;) if it were her own. " And now,my dear,"
it is but just and reasonable." "I hope, cried she to me, "I'll fairly own, that it
(cried the squire,) you will not deny, that was I that instructed my girls to encourage
the two angles of a triangle are equal to our landlord's addresses. I had always
two right ones?"-" Nothing can be some ambition; and you now see that I
plainer," returned the other, and looked was right; for who knows how this may
round with his usual importance. "Very end?" "Ay, who knows that indeed ?"
well, (cried the squire, speaking very answered I, with a groan: "for my o'n

VICAR OF WAKEFIELD.

11

reasons, to be displaased with the fre.
part, I don't much like it; and I could tain
have been better pleased with one that was quency of his return; but I could not repoor and honest, than this fine gentleman fuse him my company and fireside. It is
with his fortune and infidelity; for, de- true, his labour more than requited his
pend on't, no free-thinker shall ever have entertainment; for he wrought among us
a child of mine."
with vigour, and, either in the meadow or
"Sure, father," cried Moses, "you are too at the hay-rick, put himself foremost. Besevere in this; for Heaven will never ar- sides, he had always something amusing to
raign him for what he thinks, but for what say, that lessened our toil; and was at
he does. Every man has a thousand vi- once so out of the way, and so sensible,
cious thoughts, which arise without his that I loved, laughed at, and pitied him.
power to suppress. Thinking freely of re- My only dislike arose from an attachment
ligion, may be involuntary with this gen- he discovered to my daughter : he would
tleman: so that, allowing his sentiments in a jesting manner call her his little misto be wrong, yet, as he is purely passive in tress, and when he bought each of the
their reception, he is no more to be blamed girls a set of ribbons, her's was the finest.
for
their incursions, than the governor of a I know not how, but he every day seemed
city without walls, for the shelter he is to become more amiable, his wit to ir.
obliged to afford an invading enemy."
prove, and his simplicity to assume the su.
"True, my son, (cried 1 ;) but if the gov- perior airs of wisdom.
ernor invites the enemy, there he is justly
Our family dined in the field, and we
culpable. And such is always the case sat, or rather reclined round a temperate
with those who embrace error. The vice repast, our cloth spread upon the hay,
does not lie in assenting to the proofs they while Mr. Burchell seemed to give cheersee, but in being blind to many proofs that fulness to the feast. To heighten our saoffer. Like corrupt judges on a bench, tisfaction, two blackbirds answered each
they determine right upon that part of the other from opposite hedges, the familiar
evidence they hear; but they willnot hear red-breast came and picked crumbs from
all the evidence. Thus, my son, though our hands, and every sound seemed but the
our erroneous opinions be involuntary echo of tranquillity. "I never sit thus,"
when formed, yet, as we have been wil- says Sophia, "but I think of the two lovfully corrupt, or very negligent informing ers, so sweetly described by Mr. Gay, who
them, we deserve punishment for our vice, were struck dead in each others arms unor contempt for our folly."
der a barley-mow. There is something so
My wife now kept up the conversation, pathetic in the description, that I have
though not the argument. She observed, read it a hundred times with new rapture."
that several very prudent men of our ac- " In my opinion, (cried my son,) the finest
quaintance were free-thinkers, and made strokes in that description aremuch below
very good husbands; and she knew some those in the Acis and Galatea of Ovid.
sensible girls, that had skill enough to The Roman poet knows the use of conmake converts of their spouses: ' And trast better; and upon that figure artfully
who knows, my dear, (continued she,) managed, all the strength in the pathetic
what Olivia may be able to do ? The girl depends." " It is remarkable, (cried Mr.
has a great deal to say upon every subject, IBurchell,) that both the poets you mention
and to my knowledge is very well skilled 'have equally contributed to introduce a
in controversy."
ltalse into their respective countries,
taste
with epithet. Men
"Why, my dear, what controversy can by loading their lines
she have read ? (cried 1.) It does not oc- of little genius found them most easily
cur to my memory, that I ever put such imitated in their defects; and English
er
books into her hands : you certainly over- poetry, like that in the latt empire of
rateher merit." " Indeed, Papa," replied Rome, is nothing at present but a combiOlivia, "she does not : I have read agreat nation of luxurious images, without plot or
deal of controversy. I have read all the connection; a string of epithets, that imdisputes between Thwackum and Square; prove the sound without carrying on the
I
thecontroversy between Robinson Crusoe sense. But perhaps, Madam, while thus
and Friday the savage; and I am now em- reprehend others, you will think it just
ployed in reading the controversy, in Reli- that 1 should give them an opportunity to
ious Courtship." "Very well," cried I, retaliate; and indeed I have made this rethat's a good girl: I find you are perfect- mark only to have an opportunity of intro.
ly
qualified for making converts, and so go ducing to the company a ballad, which,
help your mother to make the gooseberry whatever be its other defects, is, I think,
at least free from those I have mentioned."
pie."
-

A BALLAD.

" TuaRN,gentle hermit of the dale,
And guide my lonely way,
An Amour, which promises little good for- To where yon taper cheers the vale,
With hospitable ray.
of
tine, yet may be productivemuch.
CHAP. VIII.

TmE next morning we were again visited " For here forlorn and lost I tread,
With fainting steps and slow;
try Mr. Burchell, though I began, for cer-

VICAR OF WAKEFIELD
Where wilds immeasurably spread,
Seem lengthening as I go."
" Forbear, my son," the hermit cries,
" To tempt the dangerous gloom ;
For yonder phantom only flies,
To lure thee to thy doom.
" Here to the houseless child of want,
My door is open still;
And though my portion is but scant,
I give it with good will.
" Then turn to-night, and freely share,
Whate'er my cell bestows;
My rushy couch, and frugal fare,
My blessing and repose.
"No flocks, that range the valley free,
To slaughter I condemn ;
Taught by that Power that pities me,
I learn to pity them.
" But from the mountain's grassy side,
A guiltless feast I bring ;
A scrip with herbs and fruits supply'd,
And water from the spring.
" Then, pilgrim, turn, thy cares forego,
For earth-born cares are wrng :
Mlan wants but little here below,
Nor wants that little long."
Soft as the dew from heaven descends,
His gentle accents fell :
The grateful stranger lowly bends,
And follows to the cell.
Far shelter'd in a glade obscure,
The modest mansion lay ;
A refuge to the neighb'ring poor,
And strangers led astray.
No stores beneath its humble thatch
Required a master's care;
The door just opening with a latch,
Received the harmless pair.
And now, when worldly crowds retire
To revels or to rest,
The hermit trimm'd his little fire,
And cheer'd his pensive guest :
And spread his vegetable store,
and
And gayly press'd smiled;
9nd, skill'd in legendary lore,
hours beguiled.
The

lingering

Around, in sympathetic mirth,
Its tricks the kitten tries;
The cricket chirrups in the hearth,
The crackling faggot flies.
But nothing could a charm impart,
To soothe the stranger's woe ;
For grief was heavy at his heart,
And tears began to flow.
His rising cares the hermit spied,
With answering care opprest :
And whence, unhappy youth," he cried
" Thy sorrows of thy breast ?

s

"From better habitations spurn'd,
dst
Reluctant thou rove ?
Or grieve for friendship unreturn'd,
Or unregarded love?
" Alas ! the joys that fortune brings
Are trifling, and decay;
And those who prize these paltry things,
More trifling still than they.
" And what is friendship, but a name,
A charm that lulls to sleep :
or
A shade that follows wealth fame,
But leaves the wretch to weep.
" And love is still an emptier sound,
The haughty fair one's jest ;
To warm the turtle's nest.
" For shame, fond youth, thy sorrows hush,
And spurn the sex," he said :
But, while he spoke, a rising blush
The bashful guest betray'd.
He sees unnumber'd beauties rise,
Expanding to the view,
Like clouds that deck the morning skies,
As bright, as transient too.
Her looks, her lips, her panting breast,
Alternate spread alarms;
The lovely stranger stands confest
A maid in all her charms.
And, " Ah! forgive a stranger rude,
" A wretch forlorn," she cried ;
" Whose feet unhallow'd thus intrude,
" Where heaven and you reside.
" But let a maid thy pity share,
" Whom love has taught to stray;
" Who seeks for rest, but finds despar
" Companion of her way.
the
"My father lived beside he; Tyne,
"A wealthy lord was
" And all his wealth was mark'd as mine,
" He had but only me.
To win me from his tender arms,
" Unnumber'd suitors came,
" Who praised me for imputed charms,
"And felt, or feign'd a flame.
"'Each morn the gay fantastic crowd
"With richest proffers strove :
" Among the rest young Edwin bow'd,
"But never talk'd of love.
"In humble, simplest habit clad,
" No wealth nor power had he;
" A constant heart was all he had,
"But that was all to me.
"The blossom opening to the day,
"The dews of heaven refined,
"Could nought of purity display,
" To emulate his mind.
"The dew, the blossom on the tree,
"With charms inconstant shine;

VICAR OF WAKEFIELD.

13

SThBelir charms were hh, but, woe to me, i errand was to inform us that Mr. Thorn.
"Their constancy was mine.
hill had provided music and refreshments,
and intended that night giving the youn
ladies a ball, by moonlight, on the grass.
" For still I tried each fickle art,
plot before our door. " Nor can I deny,"
and vain;
" Importunate
And while passion
his
touch'd heart,continued he, "but I have an interest in
my
being first to deliver this message, as I ex:
in
" I triumph'd hispain
pect, for my reward, to be honoured with
Miss Sophia's hand as a partner." To this
" Till, quite dejected with my scorn,
my girl replied, that she should have no
left me to my pride;
" He
objection, if she could do it with honour :
" And sought a solitude forlorn,
" But here," continued she, "is a gentle" In secret, where he died.
man," looking at Mr. Burchell, " who has
" But mine the sorrow, mine the fault,
been my companion in the task for day,
the
and it is fit he should share in its amuselife shall pay ;
" And well my
Mr. Burchell returned her a
ments."
" I'll seek the solitude he sought,
compliment for her intentions, but resigned
" And stretch me where he lay.
her up to the chaplain, adding, that he was
to go that night five miles, being invited to
'And there forlorn, despairing, hid,
a harvest supper. His refusal appeared to
" I'll lay me down and die :
me a little extraordinary; nor could I
"'Twas so for me that Edwin did,
conceive how so sensible a girl as my
" And so for him will I."
youngest, could thus prefer a middle-aged
the
not
" Thou shalt thus," hermit cried, man of broken fortune to a sprightly young
fellow of twenty-two. But as men are
And clasp'd her to his breast :
most capable of distinguishing merit in
The wond'ring fair one turn'd to chide;
women, so the ladies often form the truest
press'd.
'Twas Edwin's self that
judgments upon us. The two sexes seem
placed as spies upon each other, and are
ever
" Turn, Angelina, dear,
furnished with different abilities, adapted
My charmer turn to see
for mutual inspection.
Thy own, thy long-lost Edwin here,
Restor'd to love and thee.
" Thus let me hold thee to my heart,
And every care resign."" And shall we never, never part,
O thou--my all that's mine."
hour topart,
" No,never
from this
We'll live, and love so true;
The sigh that rends thy constant heart,
Shall break thy Edwin's too."
While this ballad was reading, Sophia
seemed to mix an air of tenderness with her
approbation. But our tranquillity was soon
disturbed by the report of a gun just by us,
and, immediately after, a man was seen
bursting through the hedge, to take up the
game he had killed. This sportsman was
the squire's Chaplain, who had shot one of
the blackbirds that so agreeably entertained
us. So loud a report, and so near, startled
my daughters; and I could perceive that
Sophia, in the fright, had thrown herself
into Mr. Burchell's arms for protection.
The gentleman came up, and asked pardon
for having disturbed us, affirming, that he
was ignorant of our being so near. He
therefore sat down by my youngest daughter;and, sportsman like, offered her what
hehad killed that morning. She was going
to refuse; but a private look from her
mother soon induced her to correct the
mistake, and accept his present, though
with some reluctance. My wife, as usual,
discovered her pride in a whisper, observingthat Sophy had made a conquest of the
chaplain, as well as her sister had of the
squire. I suspected, however, with more
probability, that her affections were placed
upon a different object. Tie chaplain's

CHAP. IX.
Two ladies of great distinction introduced.
to
Superior finery ever seems confer supe.
riorbreeding.
had
MR.BURCHELL scarce taken leave, and
Sophia consented to dance with the chap.
lain, when my little ones came running out
to tell us that the squire was come with a
crowd of company. Upon our return, we
found our landlord, with a couple of undergentlemen, and two young ladies, richly
dressed, whom he introduced as women of
very great distinction and fashion from
town. We happened not to have chaire
enough for the whole company; but Mr
Thornhill immediately proposed, that every
gentleman should sit in a lady's lap. This
I positively objected to, notwithstanding
look of disapprobation from my wife.
Moses was therefore despatched to borrow
a couple of chairs; and as we were in want
of ladies r.y , to make up a set at countrydances, the two gentlemen went with him
in quest of a couple of partners. Chairs
and partners were soon prov..~id. The
gentlemen returned with my neighbour
Flamborough's rosy daughters, flaunting
with red top-knots. But there was an unlucky circumstance, which was not adverted to; though the Misses Flamborough
were reckoned the very best dancers in the
parish, and understood the jig and round
about to perfection, yet they were totally
unacquainted with country dances. This
at first discomposed us; however after a
little shoving and dragging, they began to

14

VICAR OF WAKEFIELD.

go merrily on. Our music consisted of two add myself to the benefit." I was not
fiddles, with a pipe and tabor. The moon such a stranger to the world, as to be ignoshone bright. Mr. Thornhill and my eld- rant, that this was the fashionable cant to
est daughter led up the ball, to the great disguise the insolence of the basest propodelight of the spectators; for the neigh- sals; but I made an effort to suppress my
bours hearing what was going forward, resentment. "Sir," cried I, " the family
came flocking about us. My girl moved which you now condescend to favour with
with so much grace and vivacity, that my your company, has been bred with as nice
wife could not avoid discovering the pride a sense of honour as you. Any attempts to
af her heart, by assuring me, that though injure that, may be attended with very
the little chit did it so cleverly, all the steps dangerous consequences. Honour, Sir, is
were stolen from herself. The ladies of the our only possession at present, and of that
town strove hard to be equally easy, but last treasure we must be particularly carewithout success. They swam, sprawled, ful."I was soon sorry for the warmth
languished and frisked; butall would not with which I had spoken this : when the
do: The neighbours indeed owned that it young gentleman, grasping my hand,
but neighbour Flamborough ob- swore he commended my spirit, though he
was fine;
served, that Miss Livy's feet seemed as pat disapproved my suspicions. " As to your
to the music as its echo. After the present hint," continued he, " I protest
dance had continued about an hour, the nothing was farther from my heart than
two ladies, who were apprehensive of such a thought. No, by all that's temptcatching cold, moved to break up the ball.ing, the virtue that will stand a regular
One of them, I think, expressed her senti- siege was never to my taste, for all my
ments upon this occasion in a very coarse amours are carried by a coup de main."
The two ladies, who affected to be ignomanner, when she observed, that by the
living jingo, she was all in a muck of sweat. rant of the rest, seemed highly displeased
Upon our return to the house, we found a with this last stroke of freedom, and began
very elegant cold supper, which Mr. Thorn- a very discreet and serious dialogue upon
hill
had ordered to be brought with him. virtue; in this my wife, the chaplain, and
The conversation at this time was more I, soon joined; and the squire himself was
reserved than before. The two ladies at last obliged to confess a sense of sorrow
threw my girls quite into the shade; for for his former excesses. We talked of the
they would talk of nothing but high life, pleasures of temperance, and the sunshine
and high-lived company, with other fa- in the mind unpolluted with guilt. I was
shionable topics, such as pictures, taste, well pleased that my little ones were kept
Shakspeare, and the musical glasses. It is up beyond their usual time to be edified by
true, they once or twice mortified us sensi- such good conversation. Mr. Thornhil
bly, by slipping out an oath; but that ap- even went beyond me, and demanded if I
peared to me as the surest symptom of had any objection to giving prayers. I joytheir distinction, (though I am since in- fully embraced the proposal; and in this
formed, that swearing is now perfectly un- manner the night was passed in a most
fashionable.) Their finery, however, threw comfortable way, till at last the company
a veil over any grossness in their conversa- began to think of retiring. The ladies
tion. My daughters seemed to regard their seemed very unwilling to part from my
superior accomplishments with envy ; and daughters, for whom they had conceived a
what appeared amiss, was ascribed to tip- particular affection, and joined in a request
top quality breeding. But the condescen- to have the pleasure of their company
superior to their home. The squire seconded the proposal,
sion of the ladies was still
other accomplishments. One of them ob- and my wife added her entreaties; the
served, that had Miss Olivia seen a little girls too looked upon me as if they wished
more of the world, it would greatly improve to go. In this perplexity, I made two or
her. To which the other added, that a three excuses, which my daughters as reasingle winter in town would make her dily removed; so that, at last, I was obliged
little Sophia quite another thing. My wife to give a peremptory refusal; for which we
warmly assented to both, adding, that there had nothing but sullen looks and short anwas nothing she more ardently wished swers thewhole day ensuing.
than to give her girls a single winter's polishing. To this I could not help replying,
that their breeding was already superior to
CHAP. X.
their fortune; and that greater refinement
would only serve to make their poverty
their betridiculous, and give them a taste for plea- Thefamily endeavour to cope with
when them
ters. The miseries of the poor
sures they had no right to possess. " And
attempt to appear above their circum.
what pleasures," cried Mr. Thornhill, "do
stances.
they not deserve, who have so much in
their power to bestow? As for my part,"
continued he, "my fortune is pretty large ; I Now began to find, that all my long and
love, liberty, and pleasure, are my maxims: painful lectuies upon temperance, simplicurse me, if a settlement of half my city, and contentment were entirely disreestate could give my charming Olivia plea- garded. The distinctions lately paid us by
sure, it should be hers; and the only fa- our betters, awaked that pride which I had
vour I would ask in return, would be to laid asleep, but not removed. Our win.

out,

VICAR

OF WAKEFIELD.

dows now again, as formerly, were filled
with washes for the neck and face. The
sun was dreaded as an enemy to the skin
without doors, and the fire a spoiler of
as
the complexion within. My wife observed,
that rising too early would hurt her daughters' eyes; that working after dinner would
redden their noses; and convinced me,
that the hands never looked so white, as
when they did nothing. Instead, therefore, of finishing George's shirts, we now
had them new-modelling their old gauzes,
or flourishing upon catgut. The poor
Misses Flamborough, their former gay
companions, were cast off as mean acquaintance; and the whole conversation
ran upon high life, and high-lived company, with pictures, taste, Shakspeare, and
the musical glasses.
But we could have borne all this, had
notfortune-telling gypsy come to raise us
a
into perfect sublimity. The tawny sybil no
sooner appeared, than my girls came running to me for a shilling a-piece, to cross her
hand with silver. To say the truth, I was
tired of being always wise, and could not
help gratifying their request, because I
loved to see them happy. I gave each of
them a shilling; though, for the honour of
the family, it must be observed, that they
never went without money themselves, as
my wife always generously let them have a
guinea each, to keep in their pockets, but
with strict injunctions never to change it.
After they had been closeted up with the
fortune-teller for some time, I knew by
their looks, upon their returning, that
they had been promised something great.
" Well, my girls, how-have you sped ? Tell
me,
Livy, has the fortune-teller given thee
a penny-worth!" "I protest, Papa," says
the girl, with a serious face, I believe she
"
deals with somebody that's not right; for
she positively declared, that I am to be married to a great squire in less than a twelvemonth !" " Well now, Sophy, my child,"
said I, "and what sort of a husband are
you to have ?" "Sir," replied she, "I am
to have a lord, soon after my sister has been
married to the squire." "How," cried I,
"is that all you are to have for your two
shillings? Only a lord and a squire for
your two shillings ! You fools, I could
have promised you a prince and nabob for
half the money."
This curiosity of theirs, however, was attended with very serious effects : we now
began to think ourselves designed by the
stars for something exalted, and already
anticipated our future grandeur.
It has been a thousand times observed,
and I must observe it once more, that the
hours we pass with happy prospects in
view, are more pleasing than those crowned with fruition. In the first case, we cook
Jhedish to our own appetite; in the latter,
nature cooks it for us. It is impossible to
repeat the train of agreeable reveries we
called up for our entertainment. We looked upon our fortunes as once more rising;
and, as the whole parish asserted that the
Iquire was in love with my daughter, she

I&

was actually so with him; for they per.
suaded her into a passion. In this agreeable interval my wife had the most lucky
dreams in the world, which she took care
to tell us in the morning with great solemnity and exactness. It was one night a
coffin cross-bones; the sign of an apand
proaching wedding; at another time she
imagined her daughters' pockets filled
with farthings; a certain sign of their beingone day stuffed with gold. The girls
had their omens too : they felt strange
kisses on their lips; they saw rings in the
candle; purses bounced from the fire; and
true love-knots lurked at the bottom of
every tea-cup.
Towards the end of the week, we received a card from the town ladies ; in which,
with their compliments, they hoped to see
.all our family at church the Sunday fol.
lowing. All Saturday morning, I could
perceive, in consequence of this, my wife
and daughters in close conference together,
and now and then glancing at me, with
looksthat betrayed a latent plot.To be
sincere, I had strong suspicions that some
absurd proposal was preparing for appearing with splendour the next day. In the
evening, they began their operations in a
very regular manner, and my wife undertook to conduct the siege. After tea, when
I seemed in spirits, she began thus: "I
fancy, Charles, my dear, we shall have a
good company at our church to-morrow."
" Perhaps we may, my dear," returned I ;
"though you need be under no uneasiness
about that: you shall have a sermon,
whether there or not." "That is what
be
I expect," returned she; " but I think, my
dear, we ought to appear there as decently
as possible; for who knows what may happen ?" "Your precautions," replied I, "are
highly commendable. A decent behaviour
and appearance inchurch is what charms
me. We should be devout and humble,
cheerful and serene." "Yes," cried she,
" I know that; but I mean, we should go
there in as proper a manner as possible, not
altogether like the scrubs about us."
" You are quite right, my dear," returned
I, "and I was going to make the very same
proposal. The proper manner of going, is
togo there as early as possible, to have time
for meditation before the service begins."
"Phoo, Charles," interrupted she, "all that
is very true, but not what I would be at,
I mean, we should gothere genteelly. You
know the church is two miles off; and I
protest I don't like to see my daughters
trudging up to their pew, all blowzed and
red with walking, and looking for all the
world, as if they had been winners at a
smock-race. Now, my dear, my proposal
is this: there are our two plough-horses,
the colt that has been in the family these
nine years, and his companion Blackberry,
that have scarce done an earthly thing for
this month past, and are both grown fat
and lazy. Why should not they do something as well as we? And let me tell you,
when Moses has trimmed them a little,
they will not be so contemptible."

VICAR OF WAKEFIELD.
To this proposal I objected, that walking
would be twenty times more genteel than
such a paltry conveyance, as Blackberry
was wall-eyed, and the colt wanted a tail ;
that they had never been broke to the
rein, but had a hundred vicious tricks; and
that we had but one saddle and pillion in
the whole house. All these objections,
however, were over-ruled; +o that I was
obliged to comply. The next morning I
perceived them not a little busy in collecting such materials as might be necessary
for the expedition : but as 1 found it would
be a business of much time, I walked on to
the church before, and they promised
speedily to follow. I waited near an hour
in the reading desk for their arrival; but
not finding them come so speedily as I expected, I was obliged to begin, and went
through the service, not without some uneasiness at finding them absent. This was
;icreased when all was finished, and no appearance of the family. 1 therefore walked
back by the horse-way, which was five
miles round, though the foot-way was but
two; and when got about half way home,
perceived the procession marching slowly
forward, towards the church; my son, my
wife, and the two little ones, exalted upon
one horse, and my two daughters upon the
other. I demanded the cause of their delay; but I soon found by their looks they
had met with a thousand misfortunes on
the road. The horses had at first refused
move from the door, till Mr. Burchell
was kind enough to beat them forward for
about two hundred yards with his cudgel.
Next, the straps of my wife's pillion broke
down, and they were obliged to stop to repair them before they could proceed. After that, one of the horses took it into his
head to stand still, and neither blows nor
entreaties could prevail with him to proceed. It was just recovering from this dismal situation that I found them: but perceiving every thing safe, I own their present mortification did not much displease
me, as it might give me many opportuni-.
ties of future triumph, and teach my
daughters more humility.

laughed at them ten times before: however, we were kind enough to laugh at
them once more.
Mr. Burchell, who was of the party, was
always fond of seeing some innocent
amusement going forward, and set the
boys and girls to blind-man's buff. My
wife too was persuaded to join in the diversion, and it gave me pleasure to think that
she was not yet too old. In the mean time,
my neighbour and I looked on, laughed at
every feat, and praised our own dexterity
when we were young. Hot cockles succeeded next, questions and commands followed that, and, last of all, they sat down
to hunt the slipper. As every person may
not be acquainted with this primeval pastime, it may be necessary to observe, that
the company at this play plant themselves
in a ring upon the ground, all except one,
who stands in the middle, whose business
it is to catch a shoe, which the company
shove about under their hands from one to
another, something like a weaver's shuttle.
As it is impossible, in this case, for the
lady who is up to face all the company at
once, the great beauty of the play lies in
hitting her a thump with the heel of the
shoe on that side least capable of making a
defence. It was in this manner my eldest
daughter was hemmed in, and thumped
about, all blowzed in spirits, and bawling
for fair play with a voice that might deafen
a ballad-singer, when, confusion on confusion, who should enter the room but our
two great acquaintances from town, Lady
Blarney, and Miss Carolina Whilhelmina
Amelia Skeggs ! Description would but
beggar, therefore it is unnecessary to describe this new mortification. Death ! to
be seen by ladies of such high breeding in
such vulgar attitudes!
Nothing better
could
ensue from such a vulgar play of Mr.
Flamborough's proposing. We seemed
struck to the ground for some time, as if
actually petrified with amazement.
The two ladies had been at our house to
see us, and finding us from home, came
after us hither, as they were uneasy to
know what accident could have kept us
from church the day before. Olivia undertook to be our prolocutor, and delivered
the whole in a summary way, only saying,
CHAP. XI.
" We were thrown from our horses." At
which account the ladies were greatly conThe Family still resolve to hold up their cerned; but being told the family received
heads.
no hurt, they were extremely glad: and
being informed that we were almost killed
MIcHAELMAS-EVE happening on the next by the fright, they were vastly sorry; but
day, we were invited to burn nuts and play hearing that we had a very good night,
tricks at neighbour Flamborough's. Our they were extremely glad again.-Nothing
late mortifications had humbled us a little, could exceed their complaisance to my
or it is probable we might have rejected daughters; their professions the last evensuch an invitation with contempt: how- ing were warm, but now they were ardent.
ever, we suffered ourselves to be happy. They protested a desire of having a more
Our honest neighbour's goose and dump- lasting acquaintance. Lady Blarney was
lings were fine, and the lamb's wool, even particularly attached to Olivia; Miss Caroin the opinion of my wife, who was a con- lina Wilhelmina Amilia Skeggs, ( I love to
noisseur, was thought excellent. It is true, give the whole name,) took a greater fancy
his manner of telling stories was not quite to her sister. They supported the conver
so well. They were very long, and very sation between themselves, while my
dull, and all about himself, and we had daughters sat silent, admiring their exalted

to

VICAR OF WAKEFIELD.
breeding. But as every reader, however
beggarly himself, is fond of high-lived dialogues, with anecdotes of lords, ladies, and
knights of the garter, I must beg leave to
give him the concluding part of the present
conversation.
" All that I know of the matter," cried
Miss Skeggs, " is this, that it may be true
or it may not be true; but this I can assure your ladyship, that the whole route
was in amaze; his lordship turned all
manner of colours, my lady fell into a
swoon; but Sir Tomkyn, drawing his sword,
swore he was hers to the last drop of his
blood."
" Well," replied our peeress, " this I
can say, that the dutchess never told me a
syllable of the matter, and I believe her
grace would keep nothing a secret from
me. But this you may depend upon as a
fact, that the next morning my lord duke
cried out three times to his valet-de-chambre, Jernigan, Jernigan, Jernigan, bring
me my garters."
But previously I should have mentioned
the very unpolite behaviour of Mr. Burchell, who during this discourse sat with his
face turned to the fire, and at the conclusion of every sentence, would cry out
fudge, an expression which displeased us
all, and in some measure damped the rising
epirit of the conversation.
" Besides, my dear Skeggs," continued
our peeress, " there is nothing of this in
the copy of verses that Dr. Burdock made
upon the occasion." Fudge !
" I am surprised at that," cried Miss
Skeggs; "for he seldom leaves any thing
out, as he writes only for his own amusement. But can your ladyship favour me
with a sight of them ?" Fudge !
" My dear creature," replied our peeress,
" do you think I carry such things about
me? Though they are very fine to be
sure, and I think myself something of a
judge; at least I know what pleases my.
self. Indeed, I ever was an admirer of all
Dr. Burdock's little pieces; for, except
what he does, and our dear Countess at
Hanover Square, there's nothing comes
out but the lowest stuff in nature; not a
bit of high life among them." Fudge!
" Your ladyship should except," says
t'other, "your own things in the Lady's
Magazine : I hope you'll say there's nothing low-lived there. But I suppose we are
to have no more from that quarter ?"" Why, my dear," says the lady, "you
know my reader and companion has left
me, to be marred to Captain Roch; and
as my poor eyes won't suffer me to write
myself, I have been for some time looking
out for another. A proper person is no
easy matter to find; and to be sure, thirty
pounds a-year is a small stipend for a wellbred girl of character, that can read, write,
and behave in company; as for the chits
about town, there is no bearing them about
one." Fudge !
"That I know," cried Miss Skeggs, "by

experience; for, of three companions I
had this last half year, one of them refused
to do plain work an hour in the day
another thought twenty-five guineas a-yera
too small a salary; and I was obliged to
send away the third, because I suspected
an intrigue with the chaplain. Virtue, my
dear Lady Blarney, virtue is worth any
price; but where is that to be found."
Fudge!
My wife had been for a long time all attention to this discourse; but was particularly struck with the latter part of it
Thirty pounds and twenty-five guineas a
year, made fifty-six pounds five shilling
English money : all which was in a manner going a-begging, and might easily be
secured in the family. She for a moment
studied my looks for approbation: and, to
own a truth, I was of opinion, that two
such places would fit our two daughters
exactly. Besides, if the squire had any
real affection for my eldest daughter, this
would be the way to make her every way
qualified for her fortune. My wife, therefore, was resolved that we should not be
deprived of such advantages for want of assurance, and undertook to harangue for the
family. " I hope," cried she, " your lady
ships will pardon my present presumption.
It is true, we have no right to pretend to
such favours; but yet it is natural for me
to wish putting my children forward in the
world : and I will be bold to say, my two
girls have had a pretty good education,
and capacity, at least the country can't
show better. They can read, write, and
cast accounts ; they understand their
needle, broadstich, cross and change, and
all manner of plain work; they can pink,
point, and frill, and know something of
music ; they can do up small clothes, work
upon catgut; my eldest can cut paper,
iand my youngest has a very pretty manner
of telling fortunes upon the cards." Fudge!
When she had delivered this pretty piece
of eloquence, the two ladies looked at each
other a few minutes in silence with an air
of doubt and importance. At last Miss Carolina Wilhelmina Amelia Skeggs condescended to observe, that the young ladies, from
the opinion she could form of them from so
slight an acquaintance, seemed very fit for
such employments; "But a thing of this
kind, Madam," cried she, addressing my
spouse, "requires a thorough examination
into characters, and a more perfect knowledge of each other. Not, Madam," continued she, "that I in the least suspect the
young ladies' virtue, prudence, and discretion; but there is a form in these things,
Madam, there is a form."
My wife approved her suspicions very
much, observing that she was very apt to
be suspicious herself; but referred her to
all the neighbours for a character; but this
our peeress declined as unnecessary, alleging that her cousin Thornhill's recom.
mendatin would be sufficient; and upon
this we rested our petition.
Ii

18

VICAR OF WAKEFIELD.

CHAP. XII.
As I had some opinion of my son's pru.
dence, I was willing enough to intrust him
Fortuneseems resolved to humble the Family with this commission ; and the next morn.
of Wakefield. Mortifications are often ing I perceived his sisters mighty busy in
more painful than real calamities.
fitting out Moses for the fair, trimming his
hair, brushing his buckles, and cocking his
WHEN we were returned home, the night hat with pins. The business of the toilet
was dedicated to schemes of future con- being over, we had at last the satisfaction
quest. Deborah exerted much sagacity in of seeing him mounted upon the colt, with
conjecturing which of the two girls was a deal box before him, to bring home grolikely to have the best
place, and most op- ceries He had on a coat made of that
in.
portunities of seeing good company. The cloth which they call thunder-and-lightonly
obstacle to our preferment was in ob- ning, which, though grown too short, was
taining the squire's recommendation; but much too good to be thrown away. His
he had already shown us too many instances waistcoat was of goslin green, and his sisof his friendship to doubt of it now. Even ters had tied his hair with a broad black
in bed, my wife kept up the usual theme : ribbon. We all followed him several paces
" Well, faith, my dear Charles, between from the door, bawlingafter him, Good
ourselves, I think we have made an excel- luck, good luck, till we could see him no
lent day's work of it." " Pretty well," longer.
cried I, not knowing what to say.-" What!
I-le scarcely gone, when Mr. Thornwas
only pretty well !" returned she : " I think hill's butler came to congratulate us upon
.t is very well. Suppose the girls should our good fortune, saying, that he overheard
some to make acquaintances of taste in his young master mention our names with
town ! and this I am assured of, that Lon- great commendations.
don is the only place- in the world for all
Good fortune seemed resolved not to
manner of husbands. Besides, my dear, come alone. Another footman from the
stranger things happen every day; and as same family followed with a card for my
ladies of quality are so taken with my daugh- daughters, importing that the two ladies
ters,
what will not men of quality be ? Entre had received such pleasing accounts from
nous, protest I like my Lady Blarney vast- Mr. Thornhill of us all, that, after a few
I
ly, so very obliging. However, Miss Carolina previous inquiries they hoped to be perWilhelmina Amelia Skeggs has my warm fectly satisfied. " Ay," cried my wife,
heart. But yet, when they came to talk " I now see it no easy matter to get into
of places in town, you saw at once how I the families of the great; but when once
nailed them. Tell
me, my dear, don't
you one gets in, then, as Moses says, one may
think 1 did for my children there ?" " Ay," go to sleep." To this piece of humour, for
returned I, not knowing well what to think she intended it for wit, my daughters as"
of the matter, Heaven grant they may be sented with a loud laugh of pleasure. In
both the better for it this day three short, such was her satisfaction at this
months !" This was one of those observa- message, that she actually put her hand intions I usually made to impress my wife to her pocket, and gave the messenger
with an opinion of my sagacity; for if the sevenpence halfpenny.
girls succeeded, then it was a pious wish
This was to be our visiting day. The
fulfilled; but if any thing unfortunate en- next that came was Mr. Burchell, who had
sued, then it might be looked upon as a been at the fair. He brought my little
prophecy. All this conversation, however, I ones a pennyworth of gingerbread each,
was only preparatory to another scheme, which my wife undertook to keep for them,
and inde'd I dreaded as much. This was and give them by letters at a time. He
nothing less than that, as we were now to brought my daughters also a couple of
hold up our heads a little higher in the boxes, in which they might keep wafers,
world, it would be proper to sell the colt, snuff, patches, or even money when they
which was grown old, at a neighbouring got it. My wife was usually fond of a
fair, and buy us a horse that would carry weasel-skin purse, as being the most lucky:
single or double upon an occasion, and but this by the bye. We had still a regard
make a pretty appearance at church, or for Mr. Burchell, though his late rude beupon a visit. This, at first, I opposed haviour was in some measure displeasing,
stoutly; but it was as stoutly defended. nor could we now avoid communicating
However, as I weakened, my antagonist our happiness to him, and asking him his
gained strength, till at last it was resolved advice; although we seldom followed ad.
vice, we were always ready enough to ask
to part with him.
As the fair happened the following day, it. When he read the note from the two
Shad intentions of going myself; but my ladies, he shook his head, and observed
wife persuaded me that I had got a cold, that an affair of this sort demanded the utcircumspection. This air of diffidence
and nothing could prevail upon her to per- Imost
mit me to go from home. "No, my dear," highly displeased my wife. " I never
said she, " our son Moses is a discreet boy, doubted, Sir," cried she, " your readiness
and can buy and sell to very good advan- Itobe against my daughters and me. You
tage; you know all our great bargains are have more circumspection than is wanted.
of his purchasing. He always stands out However, I fancy, when we come to ask
and higgles, and actually tires them till he advice, we will apply to persons who seem
to have made use of it themselves." gets a bargain."

1

VICAR OF WAKEFIELD.
" Whatever my own conduct may have
been, Madam," replied he, " is not the
present question ; though, as I have made
no use of advice myself, I should in conscience give to those that will."-As I was
apprehensive this answer might draw on a
rapartee, making up by abuse what it
wanted in wit, I changed the subject, by
seeming to wonder what could keep our
son so long at the fair, as it was now
almost night-fall. " Never mind our
son," cried my wife, " depend upon it, he
knows what he is about. I'll warrant we'll
never see him sell his hen in a rainy day.
I have seen him buy such bargains as
would amaze one. I'll tell you a good
story about that, that will make you split
your sides with laughing.But as I
live, yonder comes Moses without a horse,
and the box at his back."
As she spoke, Moses came slowly on
foot, and sweating under the deal box,
which he had strapped round his shoulders. " Welcome, welcome, Moses: well,
my boy, what have you brought us from
the fair ?" " I have brought you myself,"
cried Moses, with a sly look, resting the
box on the dresser. " Ay, Moses," cried
my wife," that we know; but where is the
horse?" " I sold him," cried Moses, "for
three pounds five shillings and twopence."
" Well done, my good boy," returned she,
" I knew you would touch them off. Between ourselves, three pounds five shillings
and two pence is no bad day's work. Come,
let us have it then.
" 1 have brought no
money," cried Moses again. " I have laid
it all out on a bargain, and here it is,"
pulling out a bundle from his breast;
"here they are ; a gross of green spectacles,
with silver rims, and shagreen cases."
" A gross greenspectacles !" repeated
of
my wife in a faint voice. " And you have
parted with the colt, and brought us back
nothing but a gross of green paltry spectacles!"" My dear mother," cried the
boy, "why won't you listen to reason ? I
had them a dead bargain, or I should not
have bought them. The silver rims alone
will sell for double the money." "A fig
for the silver rims," cried my wife in a
passion; " I dare swear they wont sell for
above half the money, at the rate of broken
silver, five shillings an ounce " " You
need be under no uneasiness," cried I,
" about selling the rims; for I perceive
they are only copper varnished over."
" What
cried my wife, "not silver, the
rims not silver!" " No," cried I, "no more
silver than your sauce-pan." "And so," returned she, "we have parted with the colt,
and have only got a gross of green spectacles, with copper rims, and shagreen
cases! A murrain take such trumpery.
the blockhead has been imposed upon,
and should have known his company better." "There, my dear," cried I, "you are
wrong ; he should not have known them
at
all." " Marry, hang the idiot," returned
she again, " to bring me such stuff! If I
had them, I would throw them into the
f'e."-" There again you are wrong, my

!"

19

dear," cried I; "for though they be copper,
we will keep them by us, as copper spectacles, you know, are better than nothing."
By this time the unfortunate Moses was
undeceived. He now saw that he had indeed been imposed upon by a prowling
sharper, who, observing his figure, had
marked him for an easy prey. I therefore asked the circumstances of his deception. He sold the horse, it seems, and
walked the fair in search of another. A
reverend looking man brought him to a
tent, under pretence of having one to sell.
"Here," continued Moses, "we met another
man, very well dressed, who desired to
borrow twenty pounds upon these, saying,
that he wanted money, and would dispose
of them for a third of the value.-The first
gentleman, who pretended to be my friend,
whispered me to buy them, and cautioned
me not to let so good an offer pass. I sent
for Mr. Flamborough, and they talked him
up as finely as they did me, and so at last we
were persuaded to buy the two gross be.
tween us."

CHAP. XIII.
Mr. Burchellfound to be an enemy,
is
for he
has the confidence to give disagreeablead
vice.

Oua

family had now made several attempts
to be fine ; but some unforeseen disaster
demolished each as soon as projected. I
endeavoured to take the advantage of every
disappointment, to improve their good
sense in proportion as they were frustrated
in ambition. " You see, my children,"
cried I, "how little is to be got by attempts
to impose upon the world, in coping with
our betters. Such as are poor, and will associate themselves with none but the rich,
are hated by those they avoid, and despised
by those they follow.-Unequal combinations are always disadvantageous to the
weaker side, the rich having the pleasure,
and the poor the inconveniences that result from them. But come Dick, my boy,
and repeat the fable you were reading today, for the good of the company."
" Once upon a time," criedthe child, " a
giant and a dwarf were friends, and kept
together.-They made a bargain that they
would never forsake each other, but go and
seek adventures.-The first battle they
fought was with two Saracens; and the
dwarf, who was very courageous, dealt one
of the champions a most angry blow. It
did the Saracen but very little injury,
who, lifting up his sword, fairly struck oft
the poor dwarf's arm. He was now in a
woful plight; but the giant, coming to his
assistance, in a short time left the two Saracens dead on the plain; and the dwarf
cut off the dead man's head out of spite.
They then travelled on to another adventure. This was against three bloody.
minded satyrs, who were carrying away a
damsel in distress. The dwarf was not

E2

20

VICAR OF WAKEFIELD.

quite so fierce now as before; but for all
that struck the first blow, which was returned by another that knocked out his
eye: but the giant was soon up with them,
and, had they not fled, would certainly
have killed them every one. They were'
all very joyful for this victory; and the
damsel who was relieved, fell in love with
the giant, and married him. They now
travelled far, and farther than I can tell,
till they met with a company of robbers.
The giant, for the first time, was foremost
now: but the dwarf was not far behind.
The battle was stout and long. Wherever
the giant came, all fell before him; but the
dwarf had like to have been killed more
than once. At last the victory declared
for the two adventurers; but the dwarf
lost his leg.-The dwarf was now without
an arm, a leg, and an eye; while the giant,
who was without a single wound, cried out
to him, " Come on, my little hero; this is
glorious sport: let us get one victory more,
and then we shall have honour for ever."
" No," cries the dwarf, who was by this
time grown wiser, " no, I declare off; I'll
fight no more: for I find that in every
battle you get all the honour and rewards,
but all the blows fall upon me."
I was going to moralize this fable, when
our attention was called off to a warm dispute between my wife and Mr. Burchell,
upon my daughters' intended expedition to
town. My wife very strenuously insisted
upon the advantages that would result
from it. Mr. Burchell, on the contrary,
dissuaded her with great ardour; and I
stood neuter. His present dissuasions
seemed but the second part of those which
were received with so ill a grace in the
morning. The dispute grew high; while
poor Deborah, instead of reasoning stronger, talked louder, and at last was obliged to
take shelter from a defeat in clamour.
The conclusion of her harangue, however,
was highly displeasing to us all She knew,
she said, of some who had their own secret
reasons for what they advised; but, for her
part, she wished such to stay away from her
house for the future.-" Madam," cried
Mr. Burchell, with looks of great composure, which tended to inflame her the
more, "as for secret reasons, you are right :
I have secret reasons, which I forbear to
mention, because you are not able to an.
swer those of which I make no secret. But
I find my visits here are become troublesome; I'll take my leave therefore now,
and perhaps come once more to take a final
farewell when I am quitting the country."
Thus saying, he took up his hat ; nor
could the attempts of Sophia, whose looks
seemed to upbraid his precipitancy, prevent
his going.
When gone, we all regarded each other
fhr some minutes with confusion. My wife,
vho knew herself to be the cause, strove to
tide her concern with a forced smile, and
an air of assurance, which I was willing to
reprove: " How, woman," cried I to her,
is it thus we treat strangers ? is it thus we
return their kindness? Be assured, my

"

dear, that these were the harshest words,
and to me the most unpleasing, that ever
escaped your lips." " Why would he provoke me then," replied she, "but I know
the motives of his advice perfectly well.
He would prevent my girls from going to
town, that he may have the pleasure of my
youngest daughter's company here at
home. But, whatever happens, she shall
choose better company than such low-lived
fellows as he." " Low-lived, my dear, do
you call him !" cried I : "it is very possible
we may mistake this man's character: for
he seems, upon some occasions, the nost
finished gentleman I ever knew. Tell me
Sophia, my girl, has he ever given you any
secret instances of his attachment ?"-"His
conversation with me, Sir," replied my
daughter, " has ever been sensible, modest,
and pleasing: as to aught else, no, never.
Once, indeed, I remember to have heard
him say, he never knew a woman who
could find merit in a man that seemed
poor." "Such, my dear," cried I, "is the
common cant of all the unfortunate or
idle : but I hope you have been taught to
judge properly of such men, and that it
would be even madness toexpcct happiness
from one who has been so very bad an economist of his own. Your mother and I
have now better prospects for you. The
next winter, which youwill probably spend
in town, will give you opportunities of
making a more prudent choice."
What Sophia's reflections were upon this
occasion, I cannot pretend to determine:
but I was not displeased at the bottom that
we were rid of a guest from whom I had
much to fear. Our breach of hospitality
went to my conscience a little; but I
quickly silenced that monitor by two or
three specious reasons, which served to satisfy me, and reconcile me to myself. The
pain which conscience gives the man who
has already done wrong, is soon got over.
Conscience is a coward; and those faults
it has not strength enough to prevent, it
seldom has justice enough to punish by
accusing.
-

CHAP. XIV.
Fresh mortifications ; or a demonstration
that seeming calamities may be real bless
ings.
THE journey of my daughters to town was
now resolved upon, Mr. Thornhill having
kindly promised to inspect their conduct
himself, and to inform us by letter of their
behaviour. But it was thought indispensably necessary, that their appearance should
equal the greatness of their expectations,
which could not be done without some expense. We debated therefore, in full council, what were the easiest methods of rais
ing money, or, more properly speaking,
what we could most conveniently sell. The
deliberation was soon finished: it was
found that our remaining horse was utterly

VICAR OF WAKEFIELD.
useless for the plough without his companion, and equally unfit for the road, as
wanting an eye. It was therefore determined, that we should dispose of him for
the purposes above-mentioned, at the neighbouring fair, and, to prevent imposition,
that I should go with him myself. Though
this was one of the first mercantile transactions of my life, yet I had no doubt about
acquitting myself with reputation.-The
opinion a man forms of his own prudence,
is measured by that of the company he
keeps; and as mine was mostly in the family
way, I had conceived no unfavourable sentiments of my worldly wisdom. My wife,
however, next morning, at parting, after I
had got some paces from the door, called
me back, to advise me, in a whisper, to
have all my eyes about me.
I had, in the usual form, when I came
to the fair, put my horse through all his
paces; but for some time had no bidders.
At last a chapman approached, and, after
he had for a good while examined the horse
round, finding him blind of one eye, would
have nothing to say to him : a second came
up, but, observing he had a spavin, declared
he would not take him for the driving
home: a third perceived he had a windgal,
and would bid io money : a fourth knew
by his eye that he had the botts : a fifth,
more impertinent than all the rest, wondered what a plague I could do at the fair,
with a blind, spavined, galled hack, that
was only fit to be cut up for a dog kennel.
By this time I began to have a most hearty
contempt for the poor animal myself, and
was almost ashamed at the approach of
every new customer : for though I did not
entirely believe all that the fellows told me,
yet I reflected that the number of witnesses
was a strong presumption they were right ;
and St. Gregory upon good works, professes
himself to be of the same opinion.
I was in this mortifying situation, when
a brother clergyman, an old acquaintance,
who had also business at the fair, came
up, and, shaking me by the hand, proposed
adjourning to a public house, and taking a
glass of whatever we could get. I readily
losed with the offer : and, entering an alehouse, we were shown into a little back
room, where there was only a venerable old
man, who sat wholly intent over a large
book, which he was reading. I never in
my life saw a figure that prepossessed me
more favourably. His locks of silver grey
venerably shaded his temples, and his green
old age seemed to be the result of health
and benevolence. However, his presence
did not interrupt our conversation: my
friend and I discoursed on the various turns
of fortune we had met; the Whistonian
controversy, my last pamphlet, the archdeacon's reply, and the hard measure that
was dealt me. But our attention was in a
short time taken off, by the appearance of
a youth, who, entering the room, respectfully said something softly to the old
stranger. " Make no apology, my child,"
said the old man; "to do good is a duty we
"we to all our fellow-creatures : take this,

I wish it were more; but five pounds will
relieve your distress, and you are welcome."
The modest youth shed tears of gratitude,
and yet his gratitude was scarcely equal tt
mine. I could have hugged the good old
man in my arms, his benevolenee pleased
me so. He continued to read, and we resumed our conversation, until my companion, after some time, recollecting that
he had business to transact in the fair, promised to be soon back, adding that he always desired to have as much of Dr. Primrose's company as possible. The old gentleman, hearing my name mentioned, seemed
to look at me with attention for some time,
and, when my friend was gone, most respect.
fully demanded, if I was any way related to
the great Primrose, that courageous monogamist, who had been the bulwark of the
church. Never did my heart feel sincerer
rapture than at that moment. "Sir,"
cried I, "the applause of so good a man, as
I am sure you are, adds to that happiness
in my breast, which your benevolence has
already excited. You behold before you,
Sir, that Dr. Primrose, the monogamist,
whom you have been pleased to call great.
You here see that unfortunate divine, who
has so long, and it would ill become me to
say, successfully fought against the deuterogamy of the age. " Sir," cried the stran
ger, struck with awe, " I fear I have been
too familiar; but you'll forgive my curiosity, Sir ; 1 beg pardon." "Sir," cried I,
grasping his hand, "you are so far from
displeasing me by your familiarity, that I
must beg you'll accept my friendship, as
you already have my esteem."
"Then
with gratitude I accept the offer," cried
he, squeezing me by the hand, " thou glorious pillar of unshaken orthodoxy; and do
I behold"-I here interrupted what he
was going to say; for though as an author
I could digest no small share of flattery,
yet now my modesty would permit no mor
However, no lovers in romance ever cemented a more instantaneous friendship.
We talked upon several subjects. At
first I thought him rather devout than
learned, and began to think he despised all
human doctrines as dross; yet this no way
lessened him in my esteem; for I had for
some time begun privately to harbour such
an opinion myself. I therefore took occasion
to observe, that the world in general began
to be blameably indifferent as to doctrinal
matters, and followed human speculations
too much. " Ay, Sir," replied hie, as if he
had reserved all his learning till that moment, " ay, Sir, the world is in its dotage,
and yet the cosmogony, or creation of the
world, has puzzled philosophers of all ages.
What a medley of opinions have they not
broached upon the creation of the world ?
Sanconiathan, Manetho, Berosus, and
Ocellus Lucanus, have all attempted it in
vain. The latter hath these words, Anarchon arakai atelutaionto pan, which imply,
that all things have neither beginning nor
end. Manetho, also, who lived about the
time of Nebuchadon- Asser; Asser being a
Syriac word, usually applied as a surname

22

VICAR OF WAKEFIELD.

to the kings of that country, as Teglat
Phael-Asser, Nabon-Asser; he, I say,
formed a conjecture equally absurd; for,
as we usually say, ekto biblion kubernetes,
which implies, that books will never teach
the world; so he attempted to investigate
-But, Sir, I ask pardon, I am straying
from the question." That he actually
was; nor could I, for my life, see how the
creation of the world had any thing to do
with the business I was talking of; but it
was sufficient to show me that he was a
man of letters, and I now reverenced him
the more. I was resolved, therefore, to
bring him to the touch-stone; but he was
too mild, and gentle, to contend for victory.
Whenever I made any observation that
looked like a challenge to controversy, he
would smile, shake his head, and say nothing; by which I understood hecouldsay
much if he thought proper. The subject,
therefore, insensibly changed from the
business of antiquity, to that which brought
us both to the fair; mine, I told him, was
to sell a horse, and very luckily indeed, his
was to buy one for one of his tenants. My
horse was soon produced, and in fine we
struck a bargain. Nothing now remained
but to pay me; and he accordingly pulled
out a thirty pound note, and bid change
me
it. Not being in a capacity of complying
with his demand, he ordered the landlady
to call up his footman, who made his appearance in a very genteel livery. " Here,
Abraham," cried he, " go and getgold for
this; you'll do it at neighbour Jackson's,
or any where. ' While the fellow was
gone, he entertained me with a pathetic
harangue on the great scarcity of silver,
which I undertook to improve, by deploring also the great scarcity of gold; so
that by the time Abraham returned, we had
both agreed that money was never so hard
to be come at as now. Abraham returned
to inform us, that he had been over the
whole fair, and could not get change,
though he had offered half a crown for
doing it. This was a very great disappointment to us all; but the old gentleman
having paused a little, asked me if I knew
one Solomon Flamborough in my part of
the country; upon replying that he was
my next door neighbour; " if that be the
case then," returned he, " I believe we
shall deaL You shall have a draught upon
him payable at sight; and, let tell you,
me
he is as warm a man as any within five
miles round him. Honest Solomon and I
have been acquainted for many years together. I remember I always beat him at
three jumps; but he could hop on one
leg farther than I." A draught upon my
neighbour was to me the same as money;
for I was sufficiently convinced of his ability; draught was signed and put into
the
my hands; and Mr. Jenkinson (the old
gentleman), his man Abraham, and my
horse, old Blackberry, trotted off, very
well pleased with each other,
Being now left to reflection, I began to
recollect I had done wrong, in taking a
draught from a stranger, and so prudently

resolved upon following the purchaser,
and having back my horse. But this was
now too late: I therefore made directly
homewards, resolving to get the draught
changed into money at my friend's as fast
as possible.found my honest neighbow
I
smoking his pipe at his own door: and informing him that I had a small bill upon
him, he read it twice over. " You can
read the name I suppose," cried I, " Ephraim Jenkinson."-" Yes," returned he,
" the name is written plain enough; and I
know the gentleman too, the greatest rascal under the canopy of heaven. This is
the very same rogue who sold us the spectacles. Was he not a venerable looking
man, with grey hair, and no flaps to his
pocket-holes ? and did he not talk a long
string of learning about Greek and cosmo.
gony, and the world ?" To this I replied
with a groan. " Ay," continued he, " he
has but that one piece of learning in the
world, and he always talks it away whenever he finds scholar in company; but I
a
know the rogue, and will catch him yet."
Though I was already sufficiently mortifled, my greatest struggle was to come, in
facing my wife and daughters. No truant
was ever more afraid of returning to school,
there to behold the master's sweet visage,
than I was of going home. I was determined, however, to anticipate their fury,
by first falling into a passion myself.
But alas ! upon entering, I found the family no way disposed for
battle. My wife
and girls were all in tears, Mr. Thornhill
having been there that day to inform them
that their journey to town was entirely
over; the two ladies, having heard reports of us from some malicious person
about us, were that day set out for London. He could neither discover the tendency nor the author of these; but whatever they might be, or whoever might have
broached them, he continued to assure our
family of his friendship and protection. I
found, therefore, that they bore my disappointment with great resignation, as it was
eclipsed in the greatness of their own. But
what perplexed us most, was to think who
could be so base as to asperse the character
of a family so harmless as ours, too humble
to excite envy, and too inoffensive to
create disgust.

CHAP. XV.
All Mr. Burchell's villany at once detected.
Thefolly of being over-wise.
THAT evening, and a part of the following
day, was employed in fruitless attempts to
discover our enemies. Scarcely a family in
the neighbourhood but incurred our suspicions, and each of us had reasons for our
opinions, best known to ourselves. As we
were in this perplexity, one of our little
boys, who had been playing abroad, brought
in a letter-case, which he found on the
green. It was quickly known to belong to

VICAR OF WAKEFIELD.
Mr. Burchell, with whom it had been seen,
and, upon examination, contained some
hints upon different subjects: but what
particularly engaged our attention was a
sealed note, superscribed The copy of a letter to be
sent the
to
two ladies at Thornhill
castle. It instantly occurred that he was
the base informer, and we deliberated
whether the note should not be broken
open. I was against it; but Sophia, who
said she was sure, that of all men he would
be the last to be guilty of so much baseness, insisted upon its being read. In this
shewas seconded by the rest of the family ;
and, at their joint solicitation, I read as
follows :
"

LADIES,

"The bearer will sufficiently satisfy you
as to the person from whom this comes;
one, at least, the friend of innocence, and
ready to prevent its being seduced. I am
informed for a truth, that you have some
intentions of bringing two young ladies to
town, whom I have some knowledge of,
under the character of companions. As I
would neither have simplicity imposed upon, nor virtue contaminated, I must oWer
it as my opinion, that the impropriety of
such a step will be attended with dangerous consequences. It has never been my
way to treat the infamous or the lewd with
severity; nor should I now have taken this
method of explaining myself, or reproving
folly, did it not aim at guilt. Take, therefore, the admonition of a friend, and seriously reflect on the consequences of introducing infamy and vice into retreats where
peace and innocence have hitherto resided."
Our doubts were now at an end. There
seemed indeed something applicable to both
sides in this letter, and its censures might
as well .bereferred to those to whom it
was written as to us; but the malicious
meaning was obvious, and we went no
farther. My wife had scarcely patience to
hear me to the end, but railed at the
writer with unrestrained resentment; Olivia was equally severe; and Sophia seemed
perfectly amazed at his baseness. As for
my part, it appeared to me one of the vilest
instances of unprovoked ingratitude I had
met with; nor could I account for it in
any other manner; than by imputing it to
his desire of detaining my youngest daugherin the country, to have the more frequent opportunities of an interview. In
this manner we all sat ruminating upon
schemes of vengeance, when our little boy
came running in to tell us, that Mr. Burchell approaching at the other end of the
was
field. It is easier to conceive than describe the complicated sensations which are
felt from the pain of a recent injury, and
the pleasure of approaching vengeance.
Though our intentions were only to upbraid him with his ingratitude, yet it was
resolved to do it in a manner that would be
perfectly cutting. For this purpose, we
agreed to meet him with our usual smiles,
to chat in the beginning with more than
ordinary kindness, to amuse him a little;

and then, in the midst of a flattering calm,
to burst upon him like an earthquake, and
overwhelm him with the sense of his own
baseness. This being resolved upon, my
wife undertook to manage the business herself; as she really had some talents for suchan undertaking. We saw him approach;
he entered, drew a chair, and satdown.
" A fine day, Mr. Burchell." "A very
fine day, Doctor; though I fancy we shall
have some rain by the shooting ofmy corns."
" The shooting of your horns," cried my
wife, in a loud fit of laughter, and then
asked pardon for being fond of a joke." Dear madam," replied he, " I pardon
you with all my heart; for I protest I
should not have thought it a joke had you
not told me."-" Perhaps not, Sir," cried my
wife, winking at us; " and yet I dare say
you can tell us how many jokes go to an
ounce."-" I fancy, madam," returned Mr.
Burchell, " you have been reading a jest
book this morning, that ounce of jokes is
so very good a conceit; and yet madam, I
had rather see half an ounce of understanding." " I believe yo' might," cried my
wife, still smiling at us, though the laugh
was against her; "and yet I have seen some
men pretend to understanding, that have
very little."-" And no doubt," replied her
antagonist, " you have known ladies set up
for wit that had none."-I quickly began
to
that my wife was likely to gain but
little at this business; so I resolved.to treat
him in a style of more severity myself.
" Both wit and understanding," cried I,
" are trifles, without integrity; it is that
which gives value to every character. The
ignorant peasant, without fault, is greater
thanthe philosopher with many; for what
is genius or courage, without a heart?
SAn honest man is the noblest work of
God!'"
" I always held that hackneyed maxim
of Pope," returned Mr. Burchell, "as very

fnd

unworthy a man of genius, and a base de-

sertion of his own superiority. As the reputation of books is raised, not by their freedom from defect, but the greatness of
their beauties; so should that of men be
prized, not for their exemption from fault,
but the size of those virtues they are possessed of.-The scholar may want prudence, the statesman may have pride, and
the champion ferocity : but shall we prefer
to these men the low mechanic, who laboriously plods on through life, without censure applause? We might as well preor
fer the tame correct paintings of the Flemish school to the erroneous but sublime animations of the Roman pencil."
" Sir," replied I, " your present observation is just, when there are shining virtues
and minute defects: but when it appears that great vices are opposed in the
same mind to as extraordinary virtues,
such a character deserves contempt."
" Perhaps," cried he, " there may be
some such monsters as you describe, of
great vices joined to great virtues; yet, in
my progress through life, I never yet found
one instance of their existence: on the

74

rontrary,

VICAR OF WAKEFIELD.

I have ever perceived, that where
the mind was capacious, the affections were
good. And indeed providence seems kindly our friend in this particular, thus to debilitate the understanding where the heart
is corrupt, and diminish the power where
there is the will to do mischief. This rule
seems to extend even to other animals:
the little vermin race are ever treacherous,
cruel, and cowardly, whilst those endowed
with strength and power, are generous,
brave, and gentle."
" These observations sound well," returned I; " and yet it would be easy this
moment to point out a man, (and I fixed
my eye stedfastly upon him,) whose head
and heart form a most detestable contrast.
-Ay, Sir," continued I, raising my voice;
" and I am glad to have this opportunity
of detecting him in the midst of his fancied
security. Do you know this, Sir, this
pocket-book ?"-" Yes, Sir," returned he,
with a face of impenetrable assurance ;
" that pocket-book is mine, and I am glad
you have found it."--" And do you know,"
cried I, " this letter ? Nay, never falter,
man, but look me full in the face : I say do
you know this letter ?"-" That letter !"
replied he, "yes, it was I that wrote
that letter."-" And how could you," said
"
I, so basely, so ungratefully, presume to
write this letter?" " And how came you,"
replied he with looks of unparalleled effrontery, " so basely to presume to break
open this letter? Don't you know, now, I
could hang you all for this ? All that I
have to do is to swear at the next justice's
that you have been guilty of breaking
open the lock of my pocket-book, and so
hang you all up at this door." This piece
of unexpected insolence raised me to such
a pitch, that I could scarce govern my passion. " Ungrateful wretch, begone, and no
longer pollute my dwelling with thy baseness. Begone, and never let me see thee
again: go from my doors; and the only
punishment I wish thee, is an alarmed conscience, which will be a suifficient tormentor
So saying, I threw him his pocketbook, which he took up with a smile; and,
shutting the clasps with the utmost compo.
sure, left us quite astonished at the serenity of his assurance. Mly wife was particularly enraged that nothing could make him
angry, or make him seem ashamed of his
villanies.-" My dear," cried I, willing to
calm those passions, that had been raised
too high among us, " we are not to be
surprised that bad men want shame; they
only blush at being detected in doing good,
but glory in their vices."
"Guilt and shame, (says the allegory,)
were at first companions, and in the beginning of their journey inseparably kept
together. But their union was soon found
to be disagreeable and inconvenient to
both : Guilt gave Shame frequent uneasiness, and Shame often betrayed the secret
lonspiracies of Guilt. After long disagreement, therefore, they at length consented
to part for ever. Guilt boldly walked forward alone, to overtake Fate, that went

!"

before in the shape of an executioner; but
Shame, being naturally timorous, returned
back to keep company with Virtue, which,
in the beginning of their journey, they had
left behind. Thus, my children, after men
have travelled through a few stages in vice,
they no longer continue to have shame a$
doing evil, and shame attends only upon
their virtues."

CHAP. XVI.
The family use art, which is opposed with
still greater.
WHATEVIi might have been Sophia's sensations, the rest of the family was easily
consoled for Mr. Burchell's absence, by the
company of our landlord, whose visits now
became more frequent and longer. Though
he had been disappointed in procuring my
daughters the amusement of the town, as
he designed, he took every opportunity of
supplying them with those little recreations
which our retirement would admit of. He
usually came in the morning; and, while
my son and I followed our occupations
abroad, he sat with the family at home, and
amused them by describing the town, with
every part of which he was particularly acquainted. He could repeat all the observations that were retailed in the atmosphere
of the play-houses, and had all the good
things of the high wits by rote, long before
they made their way into the jest-books. The
intervals between conversation were employed in teaching my daughters piquet,
or sometimes in setting my two little ones
to box, to make them sharp, as he called
it: but the hopes of having him for a sonin-law, in some measure blinded us to all
his defects. It must be owned, that my
wife laid a thousand schemes to entrap
him, or, to speak more tenderly, used every
art to magnify the merit of her daughter.
If the cakes at tea eat short and crisp, they
were made by Olivia : if the gooseberry
wine was well knit, the gooseberries were of
her gathering; it was her fingers which gave
thepickles their peculiar green; and in the
composition of a pudding, it was her judg.
ment that mixed the ingredients. ' hen the
poor woman would tell the squire, that she
thought him and Olivia extremely ofa size,
and would bid both stand up to see which
was tallest. These instances of cunning,
which she thought impenetrable, but which
every body saw through, were very pleasing
to our benefactor, who gave every daysome
new proofs of his i assion, which, though
they had not arisen to proposals of marriage, yet, we thought, fell but little short
of it; and his slowness was attributed sometimes to native bashfulness, and sometimes
to his fear of offending a rich uncle. An
occurrence, however, which happened soon
after, put it

beyond a doubt that he de-

signed to become one of the family; my
wife even regarded it as an absolute pro.
mise.

VICAR OF WAKEFIELD.
My wife and daughters happening to return a visit to neighbour Flamborough's,
found that the family had lately got their pictures drawn by a limner, who travelled the
country, and took likenesses for fifteen shillings a-head. As this family and ours had
long a sort of rivalry in point of taste, our
spirit took the alarm at this stolen march
upon us; and, notwithstanding all I could
say, and I said much, it was resolved
that we should have our pictures done too.
Having therefore engaged the limner, (for
what could I do ?) our next deliberation
was, to show the superiority of our taste in
the attitudes. As for our neighbour's family, there were seven of them; and they
were drawn with seven oranges, a thing
quite out of taste, no variety in life, no com.
position in the world. We desired to have
something in a brighter style, and after many debates, at length came to an unanimous resolution, of being drawn together,
in one large historical family-piece. This
would be cheaper, since one frame would
serve for all, and it would be infinitely more
genteel ; for all families of any taste were
now drawn in the same manner. As we
did not immediately recollect an historical
subject to hit us, we were contented each
with being drawn as independent historical
figures. My wife desired to be represented
as Venus, and the painter was instructed not
to be too frugal of his diamonds in her stomacher and hair. Her two little ones were
to be as Cupids by her side; while I, in my
gown and band, was to present her with my
books on the Whistonian controversy. Olivia would be drawn as an Amazon, sitting
upon a bank of flowers, dressed in a green
joseph, laced with gold, and a whip in her
hand. Sophia was to be a shepherdess, with
as many sheep as the painter could put in
for nothing; and Moses was to be dressed
out with a hat and white feather. Our taste
so much pleased the squire that he insisted
on being put in as one of the family, in the
character of Alexander the Great, at Olivia's feet. This was considered by us all,
as an indication of his desire to be introduced into the family; nor could we refuse his request. The painter was therefore set to work; ea- as he wrought with
assiduity and expedition, in less than four
days the whole was completed. The piece
was large; and it must be owned he did
not spare his colours, for which my wife
gave him great encomiums. We were all
perfectly satisfied with his performance :
but an unfortunate circumstance had not
occurred till the picture was finished,
which now struck us with dismay. It was
so very large, that we had no place in the
house to fix it. How we all came to disregard so material a point is inconceivable ;
but certain it is, we had been all greatly
remiss. The picture, therefore, instead
of gratifying our vanity, as we hoped,
leaned, in a most mortifying manner,
against the kitchen wall, where the canvass
was stretched and painted, mruen too large
to be got through any of the doors, and
the jest of all our neighbours. One com-

12

pared it to Robinson Crusoe's long-boat, too
large to be removed ; another thought it
more resembled a reel a bottle; some
in
wondered how it should be got out, but
still more were amazed how it ever got in
But though it excited the ridicule of
some, it effectually raised more malicious
suggestions in many. The squire's portrait
being found united with ours, was an honour too great to escape envy. Scandalous
whispers began to circulate at our expense,
and our tranquillity was continually disturbed by persons who came as friends, to
tell us what was said of us by enemies.
These reports we always resented with be.,
coming spirit, but scandal ever improves by
opposition. Weonce again, therefore, entered into a consultation upon obviating the
malice of our enemies, and at last came to
a
resolution, which had too much cunning to
give me entire satisfaction. It was this:
as our principal object was to discover the
honour of Mr. T'hornhill's addresses, my
wife undertook to sound him, by pretendingto ask his
advice inthe choice of a husband for her eldest daughter. If this was
not found sufficient to induce him to a de.
claration, it was then resolved to terrify
him with a rival. To this last step, however, I would by no means give my
consent, till Olivia gave me the most
solemn assurances, that she would marry the person provided to rival him
upon this occasion, if he did not prevent it, by taking her himself. Such
was the scheme laid, which though I die
not strenuously oppose, I did not entirely
approve.
The next time, therefore, that Mr.
Thornhill came to see us, my girls took
care to be out of the way, in order to give
their mamma an opportunity of putting
her scheme in execution; but they only
retired to the next room, from whence
they could overhear the whole conversation. My wife artfully introduced it,
by observing, that one ofthe Misses
Flamborough was like to have a very good
match of it in Mr. Spanker. To this the
squire assenting, she proceeded to remark,
that they who had warm fortunes were al.
ways sure of getting good husbands : "But
Heaven help," continued she, "the girls
that have none. What signifies beauty,
Mr. Thornhill ? or what signifies all the
virtue and all the qualifications in the
world, in this age of self-interest ? It is
not what is she ? but what has she? is all
the cry."
" Madam," returned he, " I highly ap.prove the justice, as well as the novelty of
your remarks; and if I were a king it
should be otherwise. It should then, indeed, be fine times with the girls without
fortunes : our two young ladies should be
the first for whom I would provide."
"Ah, Sir !"returned my wife, "you are
pleased to be facetious : but I wish I were
a queen, and then I know where my eldest daughter should look for a husband.
But now that you have put it into my head,
seriously, Mr. Thornhill, can't you recom.

26

VICAR OF WAKEFIELD.

mend me aproper husband for her ? She is
now nineteen years old, well grown, and
well educated, and, in my humble opinion,
does not want for parts."
" Madam," replied he, " if I were to
choose, I would find out a person possessed
of every accomplishment that can make an
angel happy: one with prudence, fortune,
taste, and sincerity : such, Madam, would
be, in my opinion, the proper husband."
" Ah, Sir," said she,
"but do you know of
any such person ?"-" No, Madam," returned he, " it is impossible to know any
person that deserves to be her husband:
she's too great a treasure for one man's
possession; she is a goddess. Upon my
soul I speak what I think, she's an angel."
" Ah, Mr. Thornhill, you only flatter my
poor girl. But we have been thinking of
marrying her to one of your tenants, whose
mother is lately dead, and who wants a
manager: youknowwhom I mean, farmer
Williams; a warm man, Mr. Thornhill,
able to give her good bread; and who
has several times made her proposals,
[which was actually the case :3but, Sir,"
concluded she, " I should be glad to have
your approbation of our choice." " How,
Madam," replied he, "my approbation !
my approbation of such a choice ! Never.
What !sacrifice so much beauty, and sense,
and goodness, to a creature insensible of
the blessing ! Excuse me, I can never approve of such a piece of injustice. And I
have my reasons!" "Indeed, Sir," cried
Deborah, "if you have your reasons, that's
another affair; but I should be glad to
know those reasons." "Excuse me, Mladam," returned he; "they lie too deep for
discovery, [laying his hand upon his bosom;] they remain buried, rivetted here."
After he was gone, upon a general consultation we could not tell what to make of
these fine sentiments. Olivia considered
them as instances of the most exalted passion; but I was not quite so sanguine; it
seemed to be pretty plain, that they had
more of love than matrimony in them: yet,
whatever they might portend, it was resolved to prosecute the scheme of farmer
Williams, who, from my daughter's first
appearancein the country, had paid her his
addresses.

CHAP. XVII.
the
Scarcely any virtuefound to resist power
of long and pleasingtemptation.
As I only studied my child's real happiness, the assiduity of Mr. Williams pleased
me, as he was in easy circumstances, prudent, and sincere. It required but very
little encouragement to revive his former
passion; so that, in an evening or two after,
he and Mr. Thornhill met at our house,
and surveyed each other for some time
with looks of anger : But Williams owed
his landlord no rent, and little regarded his
indignation. Olivia, on her side, acted the

coquette to perfection, if that might be
called acting which was her real character,
pretending to lavish all her tenderness on
her new lover. Mr. Thornhill appeared
quite deiected at this preference, and with
a pensive air took leave; though I own it
puzzled me to find him in so much pain as
he appeared to be, when he had it in his
power so easily to remove the cause by declaring an honourable passion. But whatever uneasiness he seemed to endure, it
could easily be perceived that Olivia's anguish was still greater. After any of these
interviews between her lovers, of which
there were several, she usually retired to
solitude, and there indulged her grief. It
was in such a situation I found her one
evening, after she had been for some time
supporting a fictitious gayety. "You now
see, my child," said I, "that your confidence in Mr. Thornhill's passion was all a
dream: he permits the rivalry of another,
every way his inferior, though he knows it
lies in his power to secure you to himself by
a candid declaration."-" Yes, Papa," returned she, "but he has his reasons for this
delay : I know he has. The sincerity of
his looks and words convince me of his real
esteem. A short time, I hope, will discover
the generosity of his sentiments, and convince you that my opinion of him has been
more just than yours." "Olivia, my darling,"
returned I, "every scheme that has
been hitherto pursued to compel him to a
declaration has been proposed and planned
by yourself, nor can you in the least
say I have constrained you. But you
must not suppose, my dear, that I will ever
be instrumental in suffering his honest
rival to be the dupe of your ill-placed passion. Whatever time you require to bring
your fancied admirer to an explanation,
shall be granted; but, at the expiration of
that term, if he is still regardless, I must
absolutely insist that honest Mr. Williams
shall be rewarded for his fidelity. The chiaracter which I have hitherto supported in
life, demands this from me, and my tenderness as a parent shall never influence my
integrity as a man. Name then your day,
let it be as distant as you think proper;
and, in the mean time, take care to let Mr.
Thornhill know the exact time on which I
design delivering you up to another. If he
really loves you, his own good sense will
readily suggest, that there isbut one method alone to prevent his losing you for
ever." This proposal, which she could not
avoid considering as perfectly just, was
readily agreed to. She again renewed her
most positive promise of marrying Mr.
Williams, in case of the other's insensibility; and at the next opportunity in Mr.
Thornhill's presence, that day month was
fixed upon for her nuptials with his rival.
Such vigorous proceedings seemed to redouble Mr. Thornhill's anxiety: but what
Olivia really felt, gave me some uneasiness.
In this struggle between prudence and
passion, her vivacity quite forsook her, and
every opportunity of solitude was sought,
and spent in tears. One week passed away*

VICAR OF WAKEFIELD.
but Mr. Thornhill made noefforts to restrain
her nuptials. The succeeding week he was
still assiduous, but not more open. On the
third he discontinued his visits entirely ;
and, instead of my daughter testifying any
impatience, as I expected, she seemed to
retain a pensive tranquillity, which I looked
upon as resignation. For my own part, I
was now sincerely pleased with thinking
that my child was going to be secured in a
continuance of competence and peace,
and frequently applauded her resolution
in preferring happiness to ostentation. It
was within about four days of her intended
nuptials, that my little family, at night,
were gathered round a charming fire, tellingstories of the past, and laying schemes
for the future. Busied in forming a thousand projects, and laughing at whatever
folly came uppermost, "Well, Moses,"
cried I, "we shall soon, myboy, have a
wedding in the family. What is your opinion of matters and things in general?"" My opinion, father, is, that all things go
on very well : and I was just now thinking
that when sister Livy is married to farmer
Williams, we shall then have the loan of
his cyder press and brewing tubs for nothing."--" That we shall, Moses," cried I ;
" and he will sing us Death and the Lady,
to raise our spirits, into the bargain."" He has taught that song to our Dick,"
cried Moses; "and I think he goes through
it very prettily." " Does he so ?" cried I,
then let us have it. Where is little Dick ?
let him up with it boldly."-" My brother
Dick," cried Bill, my youngest, "is just
gone out with sister Livy; but Mr. Williams has taught me two songs, and I'll
sing them for you, Papa. Which song do
you choose, the Dying Swan, or the Elegy
on the Death of a Mad Dog ?" " The Ele.
gy, child, by all means," said I, "I never
heard that yet: and Deborah, my life,
grief you know is dry, let us have a bottle
of the best gooseberry wine to keep up our
spirits. I have wept so much at all sorts
of elegies of late, that without an enlivening glass, I am sure this will overcome
me; and Sophia, love, take your guitar,
and thrum in with the boy a little.
AN ELEGY
On the Death of a Mad Dog.
Goon people all, of every sort,
Give ear unto my song ;
And if you find it wondrous short,
It cannot hold you long.
in Islington there was a man,
Of whom the world might say
That still a godly race he ran,
Whene'er he went to pray.
A kind and gentle heart he had,
To comfort friends and foes :
The naked every day hlie
clad,
When he put on his clothes.
And in that town a dog was found,
a many dogs there be,

2'7

Both mongrel, puppy, whelp, and hound,
And curs of low degree,
This dog and man at first were fr ends;
But when a pique began,
The dog, to gain his private ends,
Went mad, and bit the man.
Around from all the neighb'ring streets,
The wondering neighbours ran,
And swore the dog had lost his wits,
To bite so good a man.
The wound it seem'd both sore and sad,
To every Christian eye :
And while they swore the dog was mad,
They swore the man would die,
But soon a wonder came to light,
That showed the rogues they lied;
The man recover'd of the bite,
The dog it was that died.
" A very good boy, Bill, upon my word,
and an elegy that may truly be called tragical. Come, my children, here's Bill's
health, and may he one day be a bishop."
" With all my heart," cried my wife;
" and if he but preaches as well as he sings,
I make no doubt of him. The most of his
family, by the mother's side, could sing a
good song : it was a common saying in our
country, that the family of the Blenkinsops
could never look straight before them, nor
the Hugginses blow out a candle; that
there was none of the Grograms but could
sing a song, or of the Marjorams but could
tell a story." " However that be," cried I,
"the most vulgar ballad of them all generally pleases me better than the fine modern
odes, and things that petrify us in a single
stanza; productions that we at once detest
and praise. Put the glass to your brother,
Moses. The great fault of these elegists
is, that they are in despair for griefs that
give the sensible part of mankind very
little pain. A ladyloses her muff, her fan,
or her lap-dog, and so the silly poet runs
home to versify the disaster."
" That may be the mode," cried Moses
t in sublimer compositions; but the Ranelagh songs that come down to us are perfectly familiar, and all cast in the same
mould. Colin meets Dolly, and they hold
a dialogue together; he gives her a fairing
to put in her hair, and she presents him
with a nosegay, and then they go together
to church, where they give good advice to
young nymphs and swains to get married
as fast as they can."
" And very good advice too," cried I,
" and I am told there is not a place in the
world where advice can be given with so
much propriety as there; for, as it persuades
us to marry, it also furnishes us with a wife;
and surely that must be an excellent market, my boy, where we are told what we
want, and supplied with it when wanting."
" Yes, Sir," returned Moses; "and I
know but of two such markets for wives
in Europe, Ranelagh in England, and Fontarabia in Spain. The Spanish market is

"8

VICAR OF WAKEFIELD.

open once a-year, but our English wives
are saleable every night."
" You are right, my boy," cried his
mother : " old England is the only place in
the world for husbands to get wives."" And for wives to manage their husbands," interrupted I. " It is a proverb
abroad, that if a bridge were built across
the sea all the ladies of the continent
would come over to take pattern from
ours; for there are no such wives in Europe as our own.
" But let us have one bottle more, Deborah, my life; and, Moses, give us a good
song. What thanks do we not owe to
Heaven for thus bestowing tranquillity,
health, and competence. I think myself
happier now than the greatest monarch
,'on earth. He has no such fire-side,
nor such pleasant faces about it. Yes,
Deborah, we are now growing old; but
the evening of our life is likely to be
happy. We are descended from ancestors
that knew no stain, and we shall leave a
good and virtuous race of children behind
us. While we live, they will be our support and our pleasure here, and, when we
die, they will transmit our honour untainted to posterity.-Come, my son. we wait for
your song; let us have a chorus. But
where is my darling Olivia? That little
cherub's voice is always sweetest in the
concert."-Just as I spoke, Dick came running in. " O Papa, papa, she is gone from
us, she is gone from us, my sister Livy is
sone us for ever."-" Gone, child ?"
from
Yes, she is gone off with two gentlemen
in a post-chaise, and one of them kissed her,
and said he would die for her; and she
cried very much, and was for coming back;
but he persuaded her again, and she went
into the chaise, and said, O what will my
poor Papa do when he knows I am undone i"-" Now then," cried I, " my children, go and be miserable; for we shall
never enjoy one hour more. And O may
heaven's everlasting fury light upon him
and his! thus to rob me of my child !
and sure it will, for taking back my sweet
innocent that I was leading up to heaven.
Such sincerity as my child was possessed
of. Bat all our earthly happiness is now
over ! Go, my children, go, and be miserable, and infamous; for my heart is
broken within me !"-" Father," cried
my son, " is this your fortitude ?" " Fortitude, child! Yes, he shall see I have
fortitude! Bring me my pistols. I'll pursue the traitor. While he is on earth,
'1 pursue him. Old as I am, he shall find
I can sting him yet. The villain! the
perfidious villain
I had by this time
reached down my pistols, when my poor
wife, whose passions were not so strong as
mine, caught me in her arms. "My dearest, dearest husband," cried she, "the
Bible is the only we.pon that is fit for your
old hands now Open that, my love, and
read your anguish into patience, for she
has vilely deceived"-Her sorrow repressed
the rest in silence.-" Indeed, Sir," resumed my son, after a pause, "your rage is too

!"-

violent and unbecoming. You should be
my mother's comforter, and you increase
her pain. It ill suited you and your to
verend character thus to curse your great.
est enemy: you should not have cursed
him, villain as he is."-" I did not curse
him, child, did I ?"-" Indeed, Sir, you
did; you cursed him twice."-" Then may
Heaven forgive me and him, if I did.-And
now, my son, I see it was more than human
benevolence that first taught us to bless our
enemies ! Blessed be his holy name for all
the good he has given, and for all that he has
taken away. But it is not-it is not a small
distress that can wring tears from these old
eyes, that have not wept for so many years !
My child!-To undo my darling ! May confusion seize !Heaven forgive me, what
am I about to say? You may remerber,
my love, how good she was, and how
charming; till this vile moment, all her
care was to make us happy. Had she but
died ! But she is gone, the honour of our
family contaminated, and I must look out
for happiness in other worlds than here.
But, my child, you saw them go off; perhaps he forced her away ? If he forced
her, she may yet be innocent."-" Ah, no,
Sir," cried the child, "he only kissed her,
and called her his angel; and she wept
very much, and leaned upon his arm, and
they drove off very fast." " She is an un.
grateful creature," cried my wife, who
could scarce speak for weeping, "to use
us thus. She never had the least constraint
put upon her affections. The vile strumpet
has basely deserted her parents without any
provocation, thus to bring your grey hairs
to the grave, and I must shortly follow."
In this manner, that mght, the first of
our real misfortunes, was spent in the bitterness of complaint, and ill supported sallies of enthusiasm. I determined, however,
to find out our betrayer, wherever he was,
and reproach his baseness.
The next
morning we missed our wretched child at
breakfast, where she used to give life and
cheerfulness to us all. My wife, as before,
attempted to ease her heart by reproaches.
"Never," cried she, "shall that vilest stain
of our family again darken these harmless
doors. I will never call her daughter
more. No, let the strumpet live with her
vile seducer : She may bring usto shame,
but she shall never more deceive us."
" Wife," said I, "do not talk thus hard.
ly: my detestation of her guilt is as great
as yours; but ever shall this house and
this heart be open to a poor returning repencar t sinner. The sooner she returns
from her transgression, the more welcome
shall she be to me. For the first time, the
very best may err: art may persuade, and
novelty spread out its charm. The first
fault is the child of simplicity; but every
other the offspring of guilt. Yes, the
wretched creature shall be welcome to this
heart and this house, though stained with
ten thousand vices. 1 will again hearken
to the music of her voice, again will I hang
fondly on her bosom, if I find but repent.
ance there. My son, bring hither my Bible

VICAR OF WAKEFIELD.
and my staff: I will pursue her wherever
she is,
and, though I cannot save her from
shame, I may prevent the continuance of
iniquity."

29

as if he dreaded an interview, upon my ap
proaching
him, he mixed among a crowd,
and I saw him no more. I now reflected,
that it would be to no purpose to continus
my pursuit farther, and resolved to return
-home to an innocen. family, who wanted
my assistance. But the agitations of my
CHAP. XVIII.
mind, and the fatigues I had undergone,
threw me into a fever, the symptoms of
The pursuit a Father to reclaim a lost which I perceived before I came off
of
the
child to virtue,
course. This was another unexpected
stroke, as I was more than seventy miles
THOUGH child could not describe the distant from home. However, I retired to
the
gentleman's person who handed his sister a little ale-house by the road side, and in
into
the post
chaise, yet my suspicions fell this place, the usual retreat of indigence
entirely upon our young landlord, whose and frugality, I laid me down patiently to
character for such intrigues was but too wait the issue of my disorder. I languishwell known. I therefore directed my steps ed here for nearly three weeks; but at last
towards Thornhill-castle, resolving to up- my constitution prevailed, though I was
braid him, and, if possible, to bring back unprovided with money to defray the exIny daughter ; but, before I reached his penses of my entertainment. It is possible,
seat, I was met by one of my parishioners, the anxiety from this last circumstance
who said he saw a young lady, resembling alone might have brought on a relapse, had
my daughter, ina post-chaise with a gen- I not been supplied by a traveller, who
tleman, whom, by the description, I could stopped to take a cursory refreshment.
only guess to be Mr. Burchell, and that This person was no other than the philanthey drove very fast. This information, thropic bookseller St. Paul's Churchin
however, did by no means satisfy me. I yard, who has written so many little books
therefore went to the young squire's, and for children : he called himself their friend;
though it was yet early, insisted upon see- but he was the friend of all mankind. He
inghim immediately. He soon appeared, was no sooner alighted, but he was in haste
with the most open familiar air, and seemed to be gone; for he was ever on business of
perfectly amazed at my daughter's elope- the utmost importance, and was at that
.nent; protecting, upon his honour, that time actually compiling materials for the
he was quite a stranger to it. I now, history ofone Mr. Thomas Trip. I immetherefore, condemned my former suspi- diately recollected this good-natured man's
cions, and could turn them only on Mr. red pimpled face; for he had published for
Burchell, who, I recollected, had of late me against the Deuterogamists of the age,
several private conferences with her. But and from him I borrowed a few pieces, to
the appearance of another witness left me be paid at my return. Leaving the inn,
no room to doubt of his villany, who aver- therefore, as I was yet but weak, I resolvred, that he and my daughter were actually ed to return home by easy journeys of ten
gone towards the Wells, about thirty miles miles a-day. My health and usual tranoff,
where there was a great deal com- quillity were almost restored, and I now
of
pany. Being driven to that state of mind condemned that pride which had made me
in which we are more ready to act precipi- refractory to the hand of correction. Man
tately than to reason right, I never debated little knows what calamities are beyond his
with myself, whether these accounts might patience to bear, till he tries them: as, in
not have been given by persons purposely ascending the heights of ambition, which
placed in my way, to mislead me, but re- look bright from below, every step we rise
solved to pursue my daughter and her fan- shows us some new and gloomy prospect of
cied deluder thither. I walked along with hidden disappointment ; so, in our descent
earnestness, and inquired of several by the from the summits of pleasure, though the
way; but received no accounts, till, enter- vale of misery below may appear at first
lug the town, I was met by a person on dark and gloomy, yet the busy mind, still
horseback, whom I remembered to have attentive to its own amusement, finds, as
seen at the squire's, and he assured me, we descend, something to flatter and to
that if I followed them to the races, which please: still, as we approach, the darkest ob.
were but thirty miles farther, I might de- jects appear to brighten, and the mental
pend on overtaking them; for he had seen eye becomes adapted to its gloomy situa.
them dance there the night before, and the tion.
whole assembly seemed charmed with my
I now proceeded forward, and had
daughters performance. Early the next day, walked about two hours, when I perceived
I walked forward to the races, and about what appeared at a distance like a waggon,
four in the afternoon I came upon the which I was resolved to overtake; but
course,
when I came up with it, foundit to be a
The company made a very brilliant ap. strolling company's cart, that was carrying
pearance, all earnestly employed in one their scenes and other theatrical furniture
pursuit, that of pleasure : how different to the next village, where they were to exfrom mine, that of reclaiming a lost child hibit. The cart was attended only by the
to virtue! I thought I perceived Mr. person who drove it, and one of the com..
Burchell at some distance from me; bhut pany, as the rest of the players were to foL

30

VICAR OF WAKEFIELD.

low the ensuing day. " Good company
upon the road," says the proverb, " is always the shor'est cut;" I therefore entered into conversation with the poor player; and, as I once had some theatrical
powers myself, I descanted on such topics
with my usual freedom: but as I was
pretty much unacquainted with the present
state of the stage, I demanded who were
the present theatrical writers in vogue,
who the Drydens and Otways of the day.
-" I fancy, Sir," cried the player, " few
of our modern dramatists would think
themselves much honoured by being compared to the writers you mention. Dryden
and Rowe's manner, Sir, are quite out of
fashion; our taste has gone back a whole
century; Fletcher, Ben Johnson, and all
the plays of Shakspeare, are the only things
that go down." " How," cried I, " is it
possible the present age can be pleased
with that antiquated dialect, that obsolete
humour, those over-charged characters,
which abound in the works you mention ?"
-" Sir," returned my companion, " the
public think nothing about dialect, or humour, or character; for that is none of
their business : they only go to be amused,
and find themselves happy when they can
enjoy a pantomime, under the sanction of
Jonson's or Shakspeare's name." "So
then, I suppose," cried I, " that our modern dramatists are rather imitators of
Shakspeare than of nature." " To say the
truth," returned my companion, " I don't
know that they imitate any thing at all;
nor indeed do the public require it of
them: it is not the composition of the
piece, but the number of starts and attitudes that may be introduced, that elicits
applause. I have known a piece, with not
one jest in the whole, shrugged into popularity, and another saved by the poet's
throwing in a fit of the gripes. No, Sir,
the works of Congreve and Farquhar have
too much wit in them for the present taste;
our modern dialect is much more naturaL"
By this time the equipage of the strolling
company was arrived at the village, which,
it seems, had been apprized of our approach, and was come out to gaze at us:
for my companion observed, that strollers
always have more spectators without doors
than within. I did not consider the impropriety of my being in such company till
I saw a mob gather about me. I therefore took shelter, as fast as possible, in the
first ale-house that offered; and being
shown into the common room, was accosted by a very well-dressed gentleman, who
demanded whether I was the real cl aplain
of the company, or whether it was only to
be my masquerade character in the play.
Upon informing him of the truth, and
that I did not belong in any sort to the,
company, hliewas condescending enough to
desire me and the player to partake in a
bowl of punch, over which he discussed
modern politics with great earnestness and
seeming interest. I set him down in my
swn mind for nothing less than a parlia-

ment-man at least; and was almost con.
firmed in my conjectures, when, upon
asking what there was in the house for
supper, he insisted that the player and I
should sup with him at his house; with
hbich request, after some entreaties, we
w~xe prevailed on to comply.

CHAP. XIX.
Thle description of a person discontentedwith
the present government, and apprehensive
of the loss of our liberties.
THE house where we were to be entertained lying at a small distance from the village,
our inviter observed, that, as the coach was
not ready, he would conduct us on foot; and
we soon arrivedatoneofthemost magnificent mansions I had seen in that part of
he country. The apartment into which we
were shown was perfectly elegant and modern; he went to give orders for supper,
while the player, with a wink, observed that
we were perfectly in luck. Our entertainer
soon returned; an elegant supper was
brought in; two or three ladies, in an easy
dishabille, were introduced, and the conversation began with some sprightliness.
Politics, however, was the subject on which
our entertainer chiefly expatiated; for he
asserted, that liberty was at once his boast
and his terror. After the cloth was removed, he asked me if I had seen the last
Monitor? to which replying in the nega.
tive, " What! nor the Auditor, I suppose ?" cried he. " Neither, Sir," return.
ed I. " That's strange, very strange," re.
plied my entertainer. "Now, I read aL
the politics that come out :-The Daily, th
Public, the Ledger, the Chronicle, the
London Evening, the Whitehall Evening,
the seventeen Magazines, and the two Reviews ; and, though they hate each other,
I love them all. Liberty, Sir, liberty is the
Briton's boast; and, by all my coal-mines
in Cornwall, I reverence its guardians."
" Then it is to be hoped," cried I, " you
reverence the king." " Yes," returned my
entertainer, " when he does what we
would have him; but if he goes on as he
has done of late, I'll never trouble myself
more with his matters. I say nothing; I
think only I could have directed some
things better. I don't think there has been
a sufficient number of advisers; he should
advise with every person willing to give
him advice, and then we should have
things done in another guess manner."
" I wish," cried I, " that such intruding
advisers were fixed in the pillory. It should
be the duty of honest men to assist the
weaker side of our constitution, that sacred
power that has for some years been every
day declining, and losing its due share of
influence in the state. But these ignorants
still continue the same cry of liberty, and,
if they have any weight, basely throw it in.
to the subsiding scale."
" How." cried one of the ladies, "do I

VICAR OF WAKEFIELD.
live to see one so base, so sordid, as to be
an enemy to liberty, and a defender of
tyrants ? Liberty, that sacred gift of heaven, that glorious privilege of Britons !"
" Can it be possible," cried our entertainer, "that there should be any found at
present advocates for slavery? any who
are for meanly giving up the privileges of
Britons ? Can any, Sir, be so abject?"
" No, Sir," replied I, " I am for liberty,
that attribute of God's ! Glorious liberty !
that theme of modern declamation. I
would have all men kings. I would be a
king myself. We have all naturally an
equal right to the throne: we are all originally equal. This is my opinion, and
was once the opinion of a set of honest
men who were called Levellers. They
tried to erect themselves into a community, where all should be equally free. But
alas! it would never answer; for there
were some among them stronger, and some
more cunning than others, and these became masters of the rest; for as sure as
your groom rides your horses, because he
is a cunninger animal than they, so surely
will the animal that is cunninger, or
stronger than he, sit upon his shoulders in
turn. Since, then, it is entailed upon humanity to submit,-and some are born to
command, and others to obey,-the question is, as there must be tyrants, whether
it is better to have them in the same house
with us, or in the same village, or still farther off, in the metropolis. Now, Sir, for
my own part, as I naturally hate the face
of a tyrant, the farther off he is removed
from me, the better pleased am I. The
generality of mankind also are of my way
of thinking, and have unanimously created
one king, whose election at once diminishes
the number of tyrants, and puts tyranny
at the greatest distance from the greatest
number of people. Now, the great, who
were tyrants themselves before the election
of one tyrant, are naturally averse to a
power raised over them, and whose weight
must ever lean heaviest on the subordinate
orders. It is the interest of the great,
therefore, to diminish kingly power as much
as possible; because whatever they take
from that, is naturally restored to themselves; and all they have to do in the
state, is to undermine the single tyrant, by
which they resume their primeval authority. Now, the state may be so constitutionally circumstanced, or its laws may be
so disposed, or its men of opulence so minded, as all to conspire to carry on this business
of undermining monarchy. For, in the first
place, if the circumstances of our state be
such, as to favour the accumulation of
wealth, and make the opulent still more rich,
this will increase their ambition. An accumulation of wealth, however, must necessarilybe the consequence, when, as at present.
taMore
riches flow in from external commerce
than arise from internal industry; for external commerce can only be managed to
advantage by the rich, and they have also,
at the same time, all the emoluments arising from internal industry; so that the

31

rich, with us, have two sources of wealth,
whereas the poor have but one. For this
reason, wealth, in all commercial states,
is found to accumulate, and all such have
hitherto in time become aristocratical.
Again, the very laws also of this country
may contribute to the accumulation of
wealth; as when, by their means, the natural ties that bind the rich and poor to.
gether are broken, and it is ordained that
the rich shall only marry with the rich;
or when the learned are held unqualified
to serve their country as counsellors,
merely from a defect of opulence, and
wealth is thus made the object of a wise
man's ambition; by these means, I say,
and such means as these, riches will accumulate. Now, the possessor of accumulated wealth, when furnished with the necessaries and pleasures of life, has no other
method to employ the superfluity of his
fortune but in purchasing power; that is,
differently speaking, in making dependants,
by purchasing the liberty of the needy or
the venal, of men who are willing to bear
the mortification of contiguous tyranny for
bread. Thus each very opulent man generally gathers round him a circle of the
poorest of the people; and the polity
abounding in accumulated wealth, may be
compared to a Cartesian system, each orb
with a vortex of its own. Those, however,
who are willing to move in a great man's
vortex, are only such as must be slaves,
the rabble of mankind, whose souls and
whose education are adapted to servitude,
anl who know nothing of liberty except
tne name. But there must still be a large
number of the people without the sphere
of the opulent man's influence, namely,
that order of men which subsists between
the very rich and the very rabble; those
men who are possessed of too large fortunes to submit to the neighbouring man
in power, and yet are too poor to set up
for tyranny themselves. In this middle order of mankind, are generally to be found
all the arts, wisdom, and virtues of society.
This order alone is known to be the true
preserver of freedom, and may be called the
people. Now, it may happen, that this
middle order of mankind may lose all its
influence in a state, and its voice be in a
manner drowned in that of the rabble : for,
if the fortune sufficient for qualifying a
person at present to give his voice in state
affairs be ten times less than was judged
sufficient upon forming the constitution, it
is evident that greater numbers of the rabble will thus be introduced into the political system, and they, ever moving in the
vortex of the great, will follow where
greatness shall direct. In such a state,
therefore, all that the middle order has
left, is to preserve the prerogative and privileges of the one principal governor with
the most sacred circumspection; for he divides the power of the rich, and calls off
the great from falling with tenfold weight
on the middle order placed beneath them.
The middle order may be compared to a
, town, of which the opulent are forming

32

VICAR OF WAKEFIELD.

the siege, and which the governor from
without is hastening to relieve. While the
besiegers are in dread of an enemy over
them, it is but natural to offer the townsmen the most specious terms; to flatter
them with sounds, and amuse them with
privileges : but if they once defeat the governor from behind, the walls of the town
will be but a small defence to its inhabitants. What they may then expect may
be seen by turning our eyes to Holland,
Genoa, or Venice, where the laws govern
the poor, and the rich govern the law. I
am then for, and would die for monarchy,
sacred monarchy; for if there be any thing
sacred amongst men, it must be the
anointed sovereign of his people: and
every diminution of his power, in war or
in peace, is an infringement upon the real
liberties of the subject. The sounds of
liberty, patriotism, and Britons, have already done much; it is to be hoped that
the true sons of freedom will prevent their
ever doing more. I have known many of
those pretended champions for liberty in my
time, yetI do not remember one that was
not in his heart and in his family a tyrant."
My warmth, I found, had lengthened
this harangue beyond the rules of goodbreeding; but the impatience of my entertainer, who often strove to interrupt it,
could be restrained no longer. " What !"
cried he, " then I have been all this while
entertaining a Jesuit in parson's clothes ;
but, all the coal
by
mines of Cornwall,
out
he shall pack, if my name be Wilkinson." I
now found I had gone too far, and asked
pardon for the warmth with which I had
spoken.
" Pardon !" returned he in a
fury; " I think such principles demand
ten thousand pardons. What! give up
liberty, property, and, as the Gazetteer
says, lie down to be saddled with wooden
shoes ! Sir, I insist upon your marching
out of this house immediately, to prevent"
worse consequences I insist upon it.
; Sir,
I was going to repeat my remonstrances ;
but just then we heard a footman's rap at
the door, and the two ladies cried out,
" as sure as death there is our master and
mistress come home." It seems my entertainer was all this while only the butler,
who, in his master's absence, had a mind
to cut a figure, and be for a while the gentleman himself; and to say the truth, he
talked politics as well as most country
gentlemen do. But nothing could now
exceed my confusion, upon seeing the gentleman and his lady enter: nor was their
surprise at finding such company in good
cheer less than ours. " Gentlemen," cried
the real master of the house to me and my
companion, " my wife and I are your
humble servants; but I protest this is so
unexpected a favour, that we almost sink
under the obligation."
However unexpected our company might be to them,
theirs, I am sure, was still more so to us :
and I was struck dumb with the appre.hensions of my own absurdity, when,
whom should I next see enter the room,

but my dear Miss ArabellaWilmot, who was
formerly designed to be married to my son
George; but whose match was broken off;
as already related. As soon as she saw
me, she flew to my arms with the utmost
joy. " My dear Sir," cried she, " to what
happy accident is it that we owe so unexpected a visit ? I am sure my uncle and
aunt will be in raptures when they find
they have got the good Doctor Primrose
for their guest." Upon hearing my name,
the old gentleman and lady very politely
stepped up, and welcomed me with most
cordial hospitality. Nor could they forbear
smiling, upon being informed of the nature
of my present visit: but the unfortunate
butler, whom they at first seemed disposed
to turn away, was, at my intercession, forgiven.
Mr. Arnold and his lady, to whom the
house belonged, now insisted upon having
the pleasure of my stay for some days ; and
as their niece, my charming pupil, whose
mind in some measure had been formed
under my own instructions, joined in their
entreaties, I complied. That night I was
shown to a magnificent chamber, and the
next morning early Miss Wilmot desired
to walk with me in the garden, which was
decorated in the modern manner. After
some time spent in pointing out the beauties of the place, she inquired, with seeming unconcern, when last I had heard from
my son George. "Alas ! Madam," cried
I, "he has now been near three years absent, without ever writing to his friends or
me. Where he is, I know not; perhaps I
shall never see him or happiness more. No,
my dear Madam, we shall never more see
such pleasing hours as were once spent by
our fire-side at Wakefield. My little family
are now dispersing very fast, and poverty
has brought not only want, but infamy
upon us." The good-natured girl let fall
a tear at this account : but, as I saw her
possessed of too much sensibility, I forbore
a more minute detail of our sufferings. It
was, however, some consolation to me to
find, that time had made no alteration in
her affections, and that she had rejected
several offers that had been made her since
our leaving her part of the country. She
led me round all the extensive improvements of the place, pointing to the several
walks and arbours, and at the same time
catching from every object a hint for some
new question relative to my son. In
this manner we spent the forenoon, till
the bell summoned us to dinner, where
we found the manager of the strolling
company, that I mentioned before, who was
come to dispose of tickets for the Fair Pe.
nitent, which was to be acted that evening;
the part of Horatio by a young gentleman
who had never appeared on any stage. He
seemed to be very warm in the praises of
the new performer, and averred, that he
never saw any who bid so fair for excellence. Acting, he observed, was not
learned in a day: "but this gentleman,"
continued he, "seems born to tread the
stage. His voice, his figure, and attitudes,

VICAR OF WAKEFIELD.
,er all admirable. We caught him up aced entally in our journey down." This
at count in some measure excited our curiosity, and at the entreaty of the ladies, I
was prevailed upon to accompany them to
the play-house, which was no other than a
barn. As the company with which I went
was incontestably the chief of the place, we
were received with the greatest respect,
and placed in the front seat of the theatre;
where we sat for some time with no small
impatience to see Horatio make his appearance. The new performer advanced at
last, and let parents think of my sensations
by their own, when I found it was my unfortunate son. He was going to begin,
when, turning his eyes upon the audience,
he perceived Miss yWilmot and me, and
stood at once speechless and immoveable.
The actors behind the scene, who ascribed
this pause to his natural timidity, attempted to encourage him; but, instead of going
on, he burst into a flood of tears, and retired off the stage. I don't know what
were my feelings on this occasion ; for they
succeeded with too much rapidity for description: but I was soon awaked from this
disagreeable reverie by Miss Wilmot, who,
pale, and with a trembling voice, desired
me to conduct her back to her uncle's.
When got home, Mr. Arnold, who was as
yet a stranger to our extraordinary behaviour, being informed that the new performer was my son, sent his coach, and an
invitation for him; and as he persisted in
his refusal to appear again upon the stage,
the players put another in his place, and we
soon had him with us. Mr. Arnold gave
him the kindest reception, and I received
him with my usual transport; for I could
never counterfeit a false resentment. Miss
Wilmot's reception was mixed with seem.
ing neglect, and yet I could perceive she
acted a studied part. The tumult in her
mind seemed not yet abated : she said
twenty giddy things that looked like joy,
and then laughed aloud at her own want
of meaning. At intervals, she would take
a sly peep at the glass, as if happy in the
consciousness of irresistible beauty, and
often would ask questions, without giving
any manner of attention to the answers.

33

ling after fortune is not the way to securt
her; and indeed, of late, I have desisted
from the pursuit." "I fancy, Sir," cried
Mrs. Arnold, "that the account of your adventures would be amusing : the first part
of them I have often heard from my niece
but, could the company prevail for the rest.
it would be an additional obligation."
"Madam," replied my son, "I promise
you, the pleasure you have in hearing will
not be half so great as my vanity in the recital; and yet, in the whole narrative, I
can scarce promise you one adventure, as
my account is rather of what I saw, than
what I did. The first misfortune of my
life, which you all know, was great, but,
though it distressed, it could not sink me.
No person ever had a better knack at hoping than I. The less kind I found Fortune
at one time, the more I expected from her
at another: and being now at the bottom
of her wheel, every new revolution might
lift, but could not depress me. I proceeded,
therefore, towards London, in a fine morning, no way uneasy about to-morrow; but
cheerful as the birds that carolled by the
road; and comforted myself with reflecting,
that London was the mart where abilities
of every kind were sure of meeting distinction and reward.
" Upon my arrival in town, Sir, my first
care was to deliver your letter of recommendation to our cousin, who was himself
in little better circumstances than I. My
first scheme, you know, Sir, was to be
usher at an academy, and I asked his advice on the affair. Our cousin received the
proposal with a true Sardonic grin. ' Ay,'
cried he, 'this is indeed a very pretty career that has been chalked out for you. I
have been an usher at a boarding school
myself; and may I die by an anodyne neck.
lace, but I had rather be an under-turnkey
in Newgate. I was up early and late; I
was brow-beat by the master, hated for my
ugly face by the mistress, worried by the
boys within, and never permitted to stir
out to meet civility abroad. But are you
sure you are fit for a school? Let me examine you a little.-Have you been bred
apprentice to the business ?' No. ' Then
you wont do for a schooL Can you dress
the boys' hair ?' No. ' Then you wont do
for a school. Have you had the small-pox?'
No.
' Then you wont do for a school.
CHAP. XX.
Can you lie three in a bed ?' No. 'Then
Syou will never do for a school. Have you
The history of a philosophic vagabond, pur- a good stomach?'
Yes. 'Then you will
suing novelty, but losing content,
by no means do for a school. No, Sir, if
you are for a genteel easy profession, bind
ArER we had supped, Mrs. Arnold polite- yourself seven years as an apprentice to
ly offered to send a couple of her footmen turn a cutler's wheel; but avoid a school
for my son's baggage, which he at first by any means. Yet come,' continued he,
seemed to decline; but upon her pressing 'I see you are a lad of spirit and some
the request, he was obliged to inform her, learning, what do you think of comnthat a stick and a wallet were all the move- mencing author, likeme ? You have read in
able things upon this earth that he could books, no doubt, of men of genius starving
boast of. " Why, ay, my son," cried I,I at the trade; at present I'll show you forty
"you left me but poor, and poor I find you very dull fellows about town, that live by
are come back; and yet, I make no doubt, it in opulence. All honest jog-trot men,
you have seen a great deal of the world." who go on smoothly and dully, and write
Yes, Sir," replied my son; "but travel. history and politics, and amepraised; mea,
F

34

VICAR OF WAKEFIELD.

Sir, who, had they been bred coblers, would
all their lives have only mended shoes, but
never made them.'
"Finding that there was no great degree
of gentility affixed to the character of an
usher, I resolved to accept his proposal ;
and, having the highest respect for literature, hailed the antiqua
mater of Grubstreet with reverence. I thought it my
glory to pursue a track which Dryden and
Otway trod before me. I considered the
goddess of this region as the parent of excellence; and, however an intercourse
with the world might give us good sense,
the poverty she entailed I supposed to be
the nurse of genius! Big with these reflections, I sat down, and finding that the
best things remained to be said on the
wrong side, I resolved to write a book that
should be wholly new. I therefore dressed
up three paradoxes with some ingenuity.
They were false, indeed, but they were
new. The jewels of truth have been so
often imported by others, that nothing was
left for me to import but some splendid
things, that, at a distance, looked every bit
as well. Witness, ye powers, what fancied
importance sat perched upon my quill
while I was writing. The whole learned
world, I made no doubt, would rise to oppose my systems: but then I was prepared
to oppose the whole learned world. Like
the porcupine, I sat self-collected, with a
quill pointed against every opposer."
" Well said, my boy," cried I,"and what
subject did you treat upon ? I hope you did
not pass over the importance of monogamy.
-But I interrupt ; go on: You published
your paradoxes; well, and what did the
learned world say to your paradoxes ?"
"Sir," replied my son, "the learned
world said nothing to my paradoxes ; nothing at all, Sir.-Every man of them was
employed in praising his friends and himself, or condemning his enemies; and unfortunately, asI had neither, I suffered the
cruellest mortification, neglect.
"As I was meditating one day in a coffee-house on the fate of my paradoxes, a
little man happening to enter the room,
placed himself in the box before me, and,
after some preliminary discourse, finding
me to be a scholar, drew out a bundle of
proposals, begging me to subscribe to a new
edition he was going to give the world of
Propertius, with notes. This demand necessarily produced a reply that I had no
money; and that confession led him to inquire into the nature of my expectations.
Finding that my expectations were just as
great as my purse, I see, cried he, you are
unacquainted with the town; I'll teach
you a part of it. Look at these proposals,
upon these very proposals I have subsisted
very comfortably for twelve years. The
moment a nobleman returns from his travels, a Creolian arrives from Jamaica, or a
dowager from her country-seat, I strike
for a subscription. I first besiege their
hearts with flattery, and then pour in my
proposals at the breach. If they subscribe
readily the first time, I renew my request

to beg a dedication fee If they let me
have that, I smite them once more for engraving their coat of arms at the top. Thus,
continued he, I live by vanity, and laugh
at it. But, between ourselves, I am now
too well known, I should be glad to borrow
your face a bit; a nobleman of distinction
has just returned from Italy; my face is.,
familiar to his porter; but if you bring
this copy of verses, my life for it you succeed, and we divide the spoil."
"Bless us, George," cried I, "and is
this the employment of poets now ! Do
men of their exalted talents thus stoop to
beggary! Can they so far disgrace their
calling, as to make a vile traffic of praise
for bread ?"
" O no, Sir," returned he, "a true poet
can never be so base; for, wherever there
is genius, there is pride. The creatures I
now describe are only beggars in rhyme.
The real poet, as he braves every hardship
for fame, so he is equally a coward to
contempt; and none but those who are
unworthy protection condescend to solicit it.
" Having a mind too proud to stoop to
such indignities, and yet a fortune too
humble to hazard a second attempt for
fame, I was now obliged to take a middle
course, and write for bread. But I was
unqualified for a profession where mere industry alone was to ensure success. I could
not suppress my lurking passion for ap,
plause; but usually consumed that time in
efforts after excellence, which takes up but
little room, when it should have been more
advantageously employed in the diffusive
productions of fruitful mediocrity. My lit.
tle piece would therefore come forth in the
midst of periodical publications unnoticed
and unknown. The public were more importantly employed than to observe the
easy simplicity of my style, or the harmony
of my periods. Sheet after sheet was
thrown off to oblivion. My essays were
buried among the essays upon liberty,
eastern tales, and cures for the bite of a
mad dog: while Philautus, Philaletheus,
Philelutheros, and Philanthropos, all wrote
better, because they wrote faster than I.
" Now, therefore, I began to associate
with none but disappointed authors, like
myself, who praised, deplored, and despised
each other. The satisfaction we found in
every celebrated writer's attempts was inversely as their merits. I found that no
genius in another could please me. My
unfortunate paradoxes had entirely dried
up that source of comfort. I could neither
read nor write with satisfaction; for excellence in another was my aversion, and
writing was my trade.
"In the midst of these gloomy reflections, as I was one day sitting on a bench
in St. James's Park, a young gentleman of
distinction, who had been my intimate acquaintance at the university, approached
me. We saluted each other with some hesitation, he almost ashamed of being knowna
to one who made so shabby an appearance,
and I afraid of a repulse. But my suspi.

VICAR OF WAKEFIELD.
eions soon vanished; for Ned Thornhill yet just. I was received by his servants
was at the bottom a very good-natured with the most hospitable smiles; for the
fellow."
looks of the domestics ever transmit their
"What did you say, George ?" inter- master's benevolence. Being shown into
rupted I, "Thornhill, was not that his a grand apartment, where Sir William
name ? It can certainly be no other than soon came to me, I delivered my message
my landlord." "Bless me," cried Mrs. and letter, which he read ; and, afterpausArnold, " is Mr. Thornhill so near a neigh- ing some minutes, Pray, Sir, cried he, in.
bour of yours ? He has long been a friend form me what you have done for my kinsin our family, and we expect a visit from man, to deserve this warm recommendahim shortly."
tion ? But I suppose, Sir, I guess your me" My friend's first care," continued my rits; you have fought for him; and so you
son, " was to alter my appearance by a very would expect a reward from me for being
fine suit of his own clothes, and then I was the instrument of his vices. I wish, sin.
admitted to his table upon the footing of cerely wish, that my present refusal ma
half friend half underling. My business be some punishment for your guilt, but
was to attend him at auctions, to put him still more, that it may be some inducement
in spirits when he sat for his picture, to to your repentance. The severity of this
take the left hand in his chariot when not rebuke I bore patiently, because I knew it
filled by another, and to assist at tattering was just. My whole expectations now,
a kip, as the phrase was, when he had a therefore, lay in my letter to the great
mind for a frolic. Besides this, I had man. As the doors of the nobility are altwenty other little employments in the fa- most ever beset with beggars, all ready to
rmily. I was to do many small things with- thrust in some sly petition, I found it no
out bidding; to carry the cork-screW ; to easy matter togain admittance. However,
stand godfather to all the butler's children; after bribing the servants with half my
to sing when I was bid ; to be never out of worldly fortune, I was at last shown into a
humour; always to be humble; and, if I spacious apartment, my letter being precould, to be very happy.
viously sent up for his Lordship's inspec" In this honourable post, however, I was tion. During this anxious interval, I had
not without a rival. A captain of marines, full time to look round me. Every thing
who was formed for the place by nature, was grand, and of happy contrivance; the
opposed me inmy patron's affections. His paintings, the furniture, the gildings, pemother had been laundress to a man of trifled me with awe, and raised my idea of
quality, and thus he early acquired a taste the owner. Ah ! thought I to myself, how
for pimping and pedigree. As this gentle- very great must the possessor of all these
man made it the study of his life to be ac- things be, who carries in his head the busiquainted with lords, though he was dis Iness of the state, and whose house displays
missed from several for his stupidity, yet half the wealth of the kingdom : sure his
he found many of them, who were as dull genius must be unfathomable! During
as himself, that permitted his assiduities, these awful reflections, I heard a step come
As flattery was his trade, he practised it heavily forward. Ah! this is the great
with the easiest address imaginable; but man himself! No, it was only a chamberit came awkward and stiff from me; and, maid. Another foot was heard soon after.
as every day my patron's desire of flattery This must be he! No, it was only the
increased, so every hour being better ac- great man's valet-de-chambre. At last his
quainted with his defects, I became more Lordship actually made his appearance.
unwilling to give it. Thus I was once more Are you, cried he, the bearer of this here
fairly going to give up the field to the cap- letter ? I answered with a bow. I learn by
tain, when my friend found occasion for this, continued he, as how that- But just
my assistance. This was nothing less than at that instant a servant delivered him a
to fight a duel for him with a gentleman, card, and, without taking farther notice,
whose sister it was pretended he had used he went out of the room, and left me to
ill. I readily complied with his request; digest my own happiness atleisure. I saw
and though I see you are displeased at my no more of him, till told by a footman that
conduct, yet, as it was a debt indispensably his Lordship was going to his coachat the
due to friendship, I could not refuse. I door. Down I immediately followed, and
undertook the affair, disarmed my an- joined my voice to that of three or four
tagonist, and soon after had the pleasure more, who came like me to petition for faof finding, that the lady was only a woman yours. His Lordship, however, went too
of the town, and the fellow her bully and a fast for us, and was gaining his chariot door
sharper. This piece of service was repaid with large strides, when I hallooed out, to
with the warmest professions of gratitude : know if I was to have any reply. He was
but, as my friend was to leave town in a by this time got in, and muttered an anfew days, he knew no other method to serve swer, half of which only I heard, the other
me but by recommending me to his un- half was lost in the rattling of his chariot
cle William Thornhill, and another no- wheels. I stood for some time with my
Sir
bleman of great distinction, who enjoyed a neck stretched out in the posture of one
post under the government. When he was that was listening to catch the glorious
gone, my first care was to carry his recom- sounds, tll looking round me, I found my_
menadatory letter to his uncle, a man whose self alone at his Lordship's gate.
character for every virtue was universal,
"My patience," continued my son, " was
F2

36

VICAR OF WAKEFIELD.

now quite exhausted: stung with the
thousand indignities I hadmet with, I was
willing to cast myself away, and only wanted the gulph to receive me. I regarded
myself as one of those vile things that nature designed should be thrown by into her
lumber-room, there to perish in obscurity.
I had still, however, half a guinea left, and
of that I thought Fortune herself should
not deprive me : but, in order to be sure of
this, I was resolved to go instantly and
spend it while I had it, and then trust to
occurrences for the rest. As I was going
along with this resolution, it happened that

money enough. I suppose you understand
IEnglish, added he, by this time, or the
i
deuce is in it. I confidently assured him
of that: but expressed a doubt whether the
Dutch would be willing to learn English.
He affirmed with an oath, that they were
fond of it to distraction; and upon that affirmation I agreed with his proposal, and
embarked the next day to teach the Dutch
English in Holland. The wind was fair,
our voyage short; and, after having paid
my
my passage with half moveables, I found
myself fallen, as from the skies, a stranger
in one of the principalstreets of Amster-

Mr. Crispe's office seemed invitingly open dam. In this situation I was unwilling to
to give me a welcome reception. In this let any time pass unemployed in teaching;
office Mr.Crispe kindly offers all his ma- I addressed myself, therefore, to two or
jesty's subjects a generous promise of thirty three of those I met, whose appearance
pounds a-year: for which promise all they seemed most promising; but it was imposgive in return is their liberty for life, and sible to make ourselves mutually underpermission to let him transport them to stood. It was not till this very moment I
America as slaves. I was happy at finding recollected, that, in order to teach Dutch.
a placewhere I could lose my fears in des- men English, it was necessary that they
eration, and therefore entered this cell should first teach me Dutch. How I came
for it had the appearance of one,) with the to overlook so obvious an objection is to
devotion of a monastic. Here I found a me amazing; but certain it is I overlooked
number of poor creatures, all in circum- it.
" This scheme thus blown up, I had some
stances like myself, expecting the arrival of
Mr. Crispe, presenting a true epitome of thoughts of fairly shipping back to England
English impatience. Each untractable soul again; but falling into company with an
at variance with Fortune, wreaked her in- Irish student, who was returning from
t
juries on their own hearts : but Mr. Crispe Louvain, our conversa ion turning upon
by
at last came down, and all our murmurs topics of literature (for the way it may
were hushed. He deigned to regard me be observed, that Ialways forgot the meanwith an air of peculiar approbation; and ness of my circumstances when I could
indeed he was the first man who for a converse upon such subjects,) from him I
month past talked to me with smiles. After learned that there were not two in his
a few questions, he found I was fit for every whole university who understood Greek.
thing in the world. He paused a while his amazed me. I instantly resolved to
upon the properest means of providing for travel to Louvain, and there live by teachme, and slapping his forehead as if he had ing Greek: and in this design I was heartfound it, assured me that there was at that ened by my brother student, who threw
time an embassy talked of, from the synod out some hints that a fortune might be got
of Pennsylvania to the Chickasaw Indians, by it.
" I set boldly forward the next morning
and that he would use his interest to get
me made secretary. I knew in my own Every day lessened the burden of my
heart that the fellow lied, and yet his pro- moveables, like alsop and his basket of
mise gave me pleasure, there was some- bread : for I paid them for my lodgings to
I came
thing so magnificent in the sound. I fair- the Dutch as I travelled on.
ly, therefore, divided my half guinea, one to Louvain, I was resolved not to go sneakof which went to be added to his thirty ingto the lower professors, but openly tenhalf
thousand pounds, and with the other half I de r my talents to the principal himself. I
resolved to go to the next tavern, tN le went, had admittance, and offered him my
service as a master of the Greek language,
there more happy than he.
" As I was going out with that resolu- which I had been told was a desiideratumin
at the door by the captain his university. T'he principal seemed at
tion, I was met
of ship with whom I had formerly some first to doubt of my abilities; but of these
little acquaintance, and he agreed to be my I offered to convince him, by turning a
companion over a bowl of punch. As I part of any Greek author he should fix upnever chose to make a secret of my circum- on into Latin. Finding me perfectly earstances, he assured me that I was upon the nest in my proposal, he addressed me thus:
very point of ruin, in listening to the office- You see me, young man, I never learned
keeper's promises: for that he only de- Greek, and I don'tfind that I have ever
signed to sell me to the plantations. But, missed it. I have had a doctor's cap and
continued he, I fancy you might, by a gown without Greek; I have ten thousand
a-year without Greek; I eat heartimuch shorter voyage, be very easily put in- florins
to a genteel way of bread.-Take my ad- ly without Greek ; and, in short, continued
vice.-My ship sails to-morrow for Amster- he, as I don't know Greek, I do not bedam: What if you go in her as a passen- lie there is any good init.
"I was now too far from home to think
ger? The moment you land, all that you
have to do is to teach the Dutchmen Eng- of returning; soI resolved to go forward.
',hh, and I'll warrant you'll get pupils and I had some knowledge of music, with a to.

Wsshen

a

VICAR OF WAKEFIELD.

S37

terable voice, and I now turned what was of my assistance upon these occasions; tfr,
once my amusement into a present means when asked his opinion, he would gravely
of subsistence. I passed among the harm- take me aside, and ask mine, shrug, look
less peasants of Flanders, and among such wise, return and assure the company that
of the French as were poor enough to be he could give no opinion upon an affair of
merry; for I ever found them sprightly in so much importance: Yet there was some.
proportion to their wants. Whenever I times an occasion for a more supported asapproached a peasant's house towards surance. I remember to have seen him,
night-fall, I played one of my most merry after giving his opinion that the colouring of
tunes, and that procured me not only a a picture was not mellow enough,very delilodging, but subsistence for the next day. berately take a brush with brown varnish,
I once or twice attempted to play for peo- that was accidently lying by, and rub it
pie of fashion; but they always thought over the piece with great composure, bemy performance odious, and never reward- fore all the company, and then ask, if he
edme even with a trifle. This was to me had not improved the tints ?
the more extraordinary, as, whenever I
" When he had finished his commission
used in better days to play for company, in Paris, he left me strongly recommendwhen playing was my amusement, my mu. ed to several men of distinction, as a person
sic never failed to throw them into rap- very proper for a travelling tutor : and
tures, the ladies especially; but as it after some time, I was employed in that
and
was now my only means, it was received capacity by a gentleman who brought his
with contempt: a proof how ready the ward to Paris, in order to set him forward
world is to under-rate those talents by on his tour through Europe. I was to be
which a man is supported.
the young gentleman's governor, but with
" In this manner I proceeded to Paris, a proviso that he should always be permitwith no design but just to look about me, ted to govern himself. My pupil, in fact,
and then to go forward. The people of understood the art of guiding, in money
Paris are much fonder of strangers that concerns, much better than I. He was
have money, than of those that have wit. heir to a fortune of about two hundred
As I could not boast much of-either, I was thousand pounds, left him by an uncle
no great favourite. After walking about in the West Indies; and his guardians,
the town four or five days, and seeing the to qualify him for the management of
outsides ofthe best houses, I was preparing it, had bound him apprentice to an attor
to leave this retreat of venal hospitality, ney. Thus, avarice was his
prevailing paswhen, passing through one of the principal sion: all his questions on the road were,
streets, whom should I meet but our how money might be saved ; which was the
cousin, to whom you first recommended least expensive course of travel; whether
me. This meeting was very agreeable to any thing could be bought that would turn
ne, and, I believe, not displeasing to him. to account, when disposed of again in LonHe inquired into the nature of my journey don. Such curiosities on the way ;s could
to Paris, and informed me of his own bu- be seen for nothing, he was ready enough
siness there, which was to collect pictures, to look at; but, if thesight of them was to
medals, intaglios, and antiques of all be paid for, he usually asserted, that he
kinds, fora gentleman in London, who had had been told they were not worth seeing.
just stepped into taste and a large fortune. I He never paid a bill, that le would not
was still more surprised at seeing our cou- observe how amazingly expensive travel
sin pitched upon for this office, as he him- ling
was; and all this, though ihe not
was
self had often assured me he knew nothing yet twenty-one. When arrived atLeghorn,
of the matter. Upon asking how he had as we took a walk to look at the port and
beentaught the art ofa cognoscento so very shipping, hieinquired the expense of the
suddenly, he assured me that nothing was passage by sea home to England. This he
more easy. The whole secret consisted was informed was but a trifle compared to
in
a strict adherence to two rules; theone his returning by land;he was therefore
always to observe, that the picture might unable to withstand the temptation ; so,
have been better, if the painter had taken paying me the small part of my salary
more pains; and the other, to praise
the that was due, he took leave, and embarked
works of Pietro Perugino. But, says he, with only one attendant London.
for
as I once taught you how to be an author
" I now, therefore, was left once more
in London, I'll now undertake to instruct
upon the world at large; but then it was
you inthe art of picture buying at Paris. a thing I was used to. However, my skill
" With this proposal I very readily in music could avail me nothing, in a
closed, as it was a living; and now all my country where every peasant was a better
ambition was to live. I went therefore to musician than I; but by this time I had
sis lodgings, improved my dress by his as- acquired another talent, which answered
t
sistance, and, after some ime, accompanied my purpose as well, this was a skill in
and
him to auctions of pictures, where the frng- disputation. In all the foreign universilish gentry were expected to be purchasers. ties and convents, there are upon certain
I was nota little surprised at his intimacy days, philosophical theses maintained
with people of the best fashion, who re- against every adventitious disputant; for
Orred themselves to his judgment upon which, if the champion opposes with any
every picture or medal, as to an unerring dexterity, he can claim a gratuity in mostandard of taste. He made very good use ney, a dinner, and a bed for one night. In

!3S

VICAR OF WAKEFIELD.

this manner, therefore, I fought my way
towards England, walked along from city to
city, examined mankind more nearly, and,
if I may so express it, saw both sides of the
picture. My remarks however are but
few. I found that monarchy was the best
government for the poor to live in, and
commonwealths for the rich. I found that
riches, in general, were in every country
another name for freedom; and that no
man is so fond of liberty himself, as not to
be desirous of subjecting the will of some
individuals in society to his own.
" Upon my arrival in England, I resolved to pay my respects first to you, and
then to enlist as a volunteer, in the first
expedition that was going forward, but, on
my journey down my resolutions were
changed, by meeting an old acquaintance,
who, I found, -belonged to a company of
comedians, that were going to make a summer campaign in the country. The comnpany seemed not much to disapprove of me
for an associate. They all, however, apprised
me of the importance of the task at which
I aimed: that the public was a manyheaded monster, and that only such as had
very good heads could please it : that acting was not to be learned in a day; and
that, without some traditional shrugs,
which had been on the stage, and only on
the stage, these hundred years, I could
never pretend to please. The next difficulty was in fitting me with parts, as almost every character was in keeping. I
was driven, for some time, from one character to another, till at last Horatio was
fixed upon, which the presence of the present company has happily hindered me
from acting."

CHAP. XXI.
The short continuance offriendship amongst
the vicious, which is coeval only with mutuai satisfaction.
My son's account was too long to be delivered at once; the first part of it was begun that night, and he was concluding the
rest after dinner the next day, when the
appearance of Mr. Thornhill's equipage at
the door, seemed to make a pause in the
general satisfaction.
The butler, who
was now become my friend in the family, informed me with a whisper, that
the squire had already made some overtures to Miss Wilmot, and that her aunt
and uncle seemed highly to approve the
match.
Upon Mr. 'Thornhill's entering,
he seemed, at seeing my son and me, to
start back; but I readily imputed that to
surprise, and not displeasure. However,
upon our advancing to salute him, he returned our greeting with the most apparent candour; and, after a short time, his
presence served only to increase the general good humour,
After tea, he called me aside, to enquire
after ray daughter ; but, upon my inform.

ing him that my inquiry was unsuccessful
he seemed greatly surprised : adding, that
he had been since frequently at my house,
in order to comfort the rest of my family,
whom he left perfectly well.
He then
asked if I had communicated her misfortune to Miss Wilmot, or my son; and upon replying that I had not told them as yet,
he greatly approved my prudence and precaution, desiring me by all means to keep
it a secret; " for at best," cried he, " it is
but divulging one's own infamy ; and per.
haps Miss Livy may not be so guilty as we
all imagine." We were here interrupted
by a servant, who came to ask the squire in,
to stand up at country dances; so that he
left me quite pleased with the interest he
seemed to take in my concerns. His addresses, however, to Miss Wilmot, were
too obvious to be mistaken ; and yet she
seemed not perfectly pleased, but bore them
rather in compliance to the will of her
aunt, than from real inclination. I had
even the satisfaction to see her lavish some
kind looks upon my unfortunate son, which
the other could neither extort by his fortune nor assiduity. Mr. Thornhill's seeming composure, however, not a little surprised me: we had now continued here a
week at the pressing instances of Mr. Arnold; but each day the more tenderness
Miss Wilmot showed my son, Mr. Thornhill's friendship seemed proportionably to
increase for him.
He had formerly made us the most kind
assurances of using his interest to serve the
family; but now his generosity was not
confined to promises alone: the morning I
designed for my departure, Mr. Thornhill
came to me with looks of real pleasure, to
inform me of a piece of service he had done
for his friend George. This was nothing
less than his having procured him an ensign's commission in one of the regiments
that was going to the West Indies, for
which he had promised but one hundred
pounds, his interest having been sufficient
to get an abatement of the other two. "As
for this trifling piece of service," continued
the young gentleman, "I desire no other
reward but the pleasure of having served
my friend; and as for the hundred pounds
to be paid, if you are unable to raise it
yourselves, I will advance it, and you shall
repay me at your leisure." 'This was a fayour we wanted words to express our sense
of: I readily therefore gave my bond for
the money, and testified as much gratitude
as if I never intended to pay.
George was to depart for town the next
day to secure his commission, in pursuance
of his generous patron's directions, who
judged it highly expedient to use despatch,
lest, in the mean time, another should step
in with more advantageous proposals. The
next morning, therefore, our young soldier
was early prepared for his departure, and
seemed the only person among us that was
not affected by it. Neither the fatigues
and dangers he was going to encounter, nor
the friends and mistress (for Miss Wilmot
actually loved him) he was leaving behind,

VICAR OF WAKEFIELD.
any way damped his spirits. After he had
taken leave of the rest of the company, I
gave him all I had, my blessing. " And
now, my boy," cried I, "thou art going to
fight for thy country, remember how thy
brave grandfather fought for his sacred
king, when loyalty among Britons was a
virtue. Go, my boy, and imitate him in
all but his misfortunes, if it was a misfortune to die with Lord Falkland. Go, my
boy, and if you fall, though distant, exposed, and unwept by those that love you, the
most precious tears are those with which
Heaven bedews the unburied head of a
soldier."
The next morning I took leave of the
good family that had been kind enough to
entertain me so long, not without several
expressions of gratitude to Mr. Thornhill
for his late bounty. I left them in the enjoyment of all that happiness which affluence and good-breeding procure, and returned towards home, despairing of ever
finding my daughter more, but sending a
sigh to Heaven to spare and to forgive her.
I was now come within about twenty miles
of home, having hired a horse to carry me,
as I was yet but weak, and comforted myself with the hopes of soon seeing all I held
dearest upon earth. But the night coming
on, I put up at a little public house by the
road-side, and asked for the landlord's company over a pint of wine. We sat beside
his kitchen fire, which was the best room
in the house, and chatted on politics and
the news of the country. We happened,
among other topics, to talk of young squire
Thornhill, whom the host assured me was
hated as much as his uncle, Sir William,
who sometimes came down to the country,
was loved. lie went onto observe, that he
made it his whole study to betray the
daughters of such as received him to their
houses,and, after a fortnight or three weeks'
possession, turned them out unrewarded,
and abandoned to the world. As we continued our discourse in this manner, his
wife, who had been out to get change, returned, and perceiving that her husband
was enjoying a pleasure in which she was
not a sharer, she asked him in an angry
tone, what he did there: to which he only
replied in an ironical way by drinking her
health. " Mr. Simmonds," cried she,
"you use me very ill, and I'll bear it no
longer. Here three parts of the business is
left for me to do, and the fourth left unfinished; while you do nothing but soak
with the guests all day long; whereas, if a
spoonful ofliquor were to cure me of a fever, I never touch a drop." I now found
what she would be at, and immediately
poured out a glass, which she received with
a courtesy, and drinking towards my good
health, " Sir," resumed she, "it is not so
much for the value of the liquor I am
angry; but one cannot help it when the
house is going out of the windows. If the
customers are to be dunned, all the burden
lies upon my back; he'd as lief eat that
glass as budge after them himself.
"There now, above stairs, we have a

s

young woman who has come to take up
her lodgings here, and I don't believe she
has got any money by her over-civility. I
am certain she is very slow of payment,
and I wish she were put in mind of it."
"What signifies minding her," cried the
host, "if she be slow, she is sure."-" I
don't know that," replied the wife, "but '
know that I am sure she has been here a
fortnight, and we have not yet seen the
cross of her money."-" I suppose, my
dear," cried he, "we shall have it all in a
lump."-" In a lump !" cried the other,
"I hope we may get it any way; and
that I am resolved we will this very night,
or out she tramps, bag and baggage."
" Consider, my dear," cried the husband,
" she is a gentlewoman, and deserves more
respect." "As for the matter of that," replied the hostess,"" gentle or semple, out she
shall pack with a sassarara. Gentry may be
good things where they take; but for my
part, I never sawmuch good of them at the
sign of the Harrow."
Thus saying, she ran up a narrow flight
of stairs, that went from the kitchen to a
room overhead; and I soon perceived, by
the loudness of her voice, and the bitterness of her reproaches, that no money was
to be had from her lodger. I could hear
her remonstrances very distinctly. " Out
I say, pack out this moment, tramp, thou
infamous strumpet, or I'llgive theea mark
thou wont be the better for these three
months. What! you trumpery, you come
and take up an honest house without cross
or coin to bless yourself with; come along,
I say."-" 0 dear Madam," cried the stranger, " pity me; pity a poor abandoned
creature for one night, and death will soon
do the rest."-I instantly knew the voice
of my poor ruined child Olivia. I flew to
her rescue, while the woman was dragging
her along by the hair, and I caught the
dear forlorn wretch in my arms. " Wel,
come, any way welcome, my dearest lost
one, my treasure, to your poor old father's
bosom. Though the vicious forsake thee,
there is yet one in the world that will never
forsake thee; though thou hadst ten thou
sand crimes to ansWer for, he will forget
them all."-" O my own dear"for
some minutes she could say no more-"' my
own dearest good Papa ! Could angels be
kinder? how do I deserve so much I The
villain, I hate him and myself to be a re.
proach to such goodness. You can't forgive me; I know. you cannot."
"Yes,
my child, from my heart I do forgive
thee! Only repent, and we both shall yet
be happy. We shall see many pleasant
days yet, my Olivia."-" Ah ! never, Sir,
never. The rest of my wretched life must
be infamy abroad and shame at home. But
alas! Papa, you look much paler than you
used to do. Could such a thing as I am
give you so much uneasiness ? Surely you
have too much wisdom to take the miseries
of my guilt upon yourself." " Our wisdom,
young woman," replied I" Ah! why
so cold a name, Papa ?" cried she. "This
is the first time you ever called me by so

40

VICAR

OF WAKEFIELD.

cold a name."-" I ask pardon, my dar.
ling," returned I, " but I was going to observe, that wisdom makes but a slow defence against trouble, though at last a sure
one."
The landlady now returned to know if
we did not choose a more genteel apartment; to which assenting, we were shown
a room where we could converse more freely. After we had talked ourselves into
some degree of tranquillty, I could not
avoid desiring some account of the gradations that led her to her present wretched
situation. "That villain, Sir," said she,
" from the first day of our meeting, made
me honourable, though private proposals."
" Villain, indeed !" cried I," and yet it in
some measure surprises me, how a person
of Mr. Burche. s good sense and seeming
honour could be guilty of such deliberate
baseness, and thus step into a family to
undo it."
" My dear Papa," returned my daughter, " you labour under a strange mistake ;
Mr. Burchell never attempted to deceive
me. Instead of that, he took every oppor.
tunity of privately admonishing me against
the artifices of Mr. Thornhill, who, I now
find, was even worse than he represented
him."-" Mr. Thornhill !" interrupted I,
" can it be ?"-" Yes, Sir," returned she,
"it was Mr. Thornhill who seduced me,
who employed the two ladies, as he called
them, but who, in fact, were abandoned
women of the town, without breeding or
pity, to decoy us up to London. Their artifices, you may remember, would have
certainly succeeded but for Mr. Burchell's
letter, who directed those reproaches at
them which we all applied to ourselves.
How he came to have so much influence as
to defeat their intentions still remains a secret to me: but I am convinced he was
ever our warmest sincerest friend."
" You amaze me, my dear," cried I,
"but now I find my first suspicions of Mr.
Thornhill's baseness were too well grounded : but he can triumph in security; for
he is rich, and we are poor. But tell me,
my child, sure it was no small temptation
that could thus obliterate all the impressions of such an education, and so virtuous
a disposition as thine."
SIndeed, Sir," replied she, "he owes all
his triumph to the desire I had of making
him, and not myself happy. I knew that
the ceremony of our marriage, which was
privately performed by a popish priest, was
no way binding, and that I had nothing to
trust to but his honour." "What!" interrupted I, "and were you indeed married
by a priest in orders!" " Indeed, Sir, we
were," replied she, "though we were both
sworn to conceal his name."-" Why, then,
my child, come to my arms again: and
now you are a thousand times more welcome than before; for you are now his wife
to all intents and purposes; nor can all the
laws of man, though written upon tables of
adamant, lessen the force of that sacred
:oannection."

" Alas ! Papa," replied she, " you are
but little acquainted with his villanies
he has been married already, by the same
priest, to six or eight wives more, whom,
like me, he has deceived and abandoned."
" Has lie so ?" cried I, " then we must
hang the priest, and you shall inform
against him to-morrow." " But, Sir," returned she, "will that be right, when I
am sworn to secrecy ?" " My dear," I replied, "if you have made such a promise, I
cannot, nor will I tempt you to break it.
Even though it may benefit the public, you
must not inform against him. In all human institutions, a smaller evil is allowed
to procure a greater good : as, in politics, a
province may be given away to secure a
kingdom: in medicine, a limb may be lopt
off to preserve the body. But, in religion,
the law is written and inflexible, never to
do evil. And this law, my child, is right :
for otherwise, if we commit a smaller evil
to procure a greater good, certain guilt
would be thus incurred, in expectation of
contingent advantage: and, though the
advantage should certainly follow, yet the
interval between commission and advantage, which is allowed to be guilty, may be
that in which we are called away to answer
for the things we have done, and the volume of human actions is closed for ever.
But I interrupt you, my dear, go on."
"The very next morning," continued
she, "I found what little expectations I
was to have from his sincerity. ' hat very
morning he introduced me to two unhappy women more, whom, like me, he had
deceived, but who lived in contented prostitution. I loved him too tenderly to bear
such rivals in his af ections, and strove to
forget my infamy in a tumult of pleasures.
With this view, I danced, dressed, and
talked; but still was unhappy. The gentlemen who visited there, told me every
moment of the power of my charms, and
this only contributed to increase my melancholy, as I had thrown all their power
quite away. Thus each day I grew more
pensive, and he more insolent, till at last
the monster had the assurance to offer me
to a young baronet of his acquaintance.
Need I describe, Sir, how his ingratitude
stung me? My answer to this proposal
was almost madness. I desired to part.
As I was going, he offered me a purse;
but I flung it at him with indignation,
and burst from him in a rage, that for a
while kept me insensible of the miseries
of my situation. But I soon looked round
me, and saw myself a vile, abject, guilty
thing, without one friend in the world to
apply to.
SJust in that interval, a stage-coach
happening to pass by, I took a place, it being my only aim to be driven at a distance
from a wretch I despised and detested. I
was set down here, where, since my arrival,
my own anxiety, and this woman's unkindness, have been my only companions. The
hours of pleasure that I have passed with
my mamma and sister now grow painful to
me.
sorrows are much, but mine are

T'heir

VICAR OF WAKEFIELD.
greater than theirs; for mine are mixed
with guilt and infamy."
" Have patience, my child," cried I,
' and I hope things will yet be better.
Take some repose to-night, and to-morrow
I will carry you home to your motier, and
the rest of the family, from whom you will
receive a kind reception. Poor woman,
this has gone to her heart; but she loves
you still, Olivia, and will forget it."

CHAP. XXII.
Offences are easilypardoned where there is
love at bottom.
THE next morning I took my daughter behind me, and set out on my return home.
As we travelled along, I strove by every
persuasion to calm her sorrows and fears,
and to arm her with resolution to bear the
presence of her offended mother. I took
every opportunity, from the prospect of a
fine country, through which we passed, to
observe how much kinder Heaven was to
us than we to each other, and that the mis.
fortunes of Nature's making were but very
few. I assured her, that she should never
perceive any change in my affections : and
that, during my life, which yet might be
long, she might depend upon a guardian
and instructor. I armed her against the
censures of the world, showed her that
books were sweet unreproaching companions to the miserable; and that, if they
could not bring us to enjoy
they would
at least teach us to endure it.
The hired horse that we rode was to be
out up that night at an inn by the way,
within about five miles from my house ;
and, as I was willing to prepare my family
for my daughter's reception, I determined
to leave her that night at the inn, and to
return for her, accompanied by my daugh.
ter Sophia, early the next morning. It
was night before we reached our appointed
stage: however, after seeing her provided
with a decent apartment, and having ordered the hostess to prepare proper refreshments, I kissed her, and proceeded towards
home. And now my heart caught new sensations the nearer I approached that peaceful mansion. As a bird that hasbeen frighted
from his nest, my affections outwent my
haste, and hovered round my little fireside
with all the rapture of expectation. I
called up the many fond things I had to
say, and anticipated the welcome I was to
receive. I already felt my wife's tender
embrace, and smiled at the joy of my little
ones. As I walked but slowly, the night
waned apace. The labourers of the day
were all retired to rest; the lights Were
out in every cottage; no sounds were heard
but of the shrilling cock and the deepmouthed watch-dog at hollow distance. I
approached my little abode of pleasure, and
before I was within a furlong of the place,
our honest mastiff came running to welcome Mi .

life,

41

It was now near midnight that I came to
knock at my door;all was still and silent:
my heart dilated with unutterable happiness,
when, to my amazement, I saw the house
bursting out in a blaze of fire, and every
apertureredwith conflagration. I gave a loud
convulsive outcry, and fell upon the pavement insensible. This alarmed my son,
who had till this been asleep, and he perceiving the flames, instantly waked my
wife and daughter; and all running out
naked, and wild with apprehension, recalled me to life with their anguish. But it
was only to objects of new terror, for the
flames had by this time caught the roof of
our dwelling, part after part continuing to
fall in, while the family stood with silent
agony, looking on as if they enjoyed the
blaze. I gazed upon them and upon it by
turns, and then looked round me for my
two little ones; but they were not to be
seen. O misery ! " Where," cried I,
" where are my little ones ?" " They are
burnt to death in theflames," my wife
said
calmly, " and I will die with them." That
moment I heard the cry of the babes within, who were just awaked by the fire, and
nothing could have stopped me. " Where,
where are my children ?" cried I, rushing
through the flames, and bursting the door
of the chamber in which they were con.
fined," where are my little ones !"" Here,
dear papa, here we are," cried they together, while the flames were just catch.
ing the bed where they lay. I caught them
both in my arms, and snatched them
through the fire as fast as possible, while,
just as I was got out, the roof sunk
in.-" Now," cried I, holding up my children, " now let the flames burn on, and
all my possessions perish. Here they are,
I have saved my treasures. Here, my
dearest, here are our treasures, and we shall
yet be happy." We kissed our little darlings thousand times; they clasped us
a
round the neck, and seemed to share our
transports, while their mother laughed and
wept by turns.
I now stood a calm spectator of the
flames, and, after some time, began to perceive that my arm to the shoulder was
scorched in a terrible manner. It was
therefore out of my power to give my son
any assistance, either in attempting to save
our goods, or preventing the flames spread.
ing to our corn. By this time the neigh.
bours were alarmed, and came running to
our assistance; but all they could do was
to stand like us, spectators of the calamity.
My goods, among which were the notes I
had reserved for my daughters' fortunes,
were entirely consumed, except a box,
with some papers, that stood in the kitchen,
and two or three things more, of little consequence, which my son brought away in
the beginning. The neighbours contributed, however, what they could to lighten
our distress.-They brought us clothes, and
furnished one of our out-houses with
kitchen utensils; so that by day-light we
had another, though a wretched dwelling
to retire to. My honest next neighbour,

42

VICAR OF WAKEFIELD.

and his children, were not the least assidu- enjoy our former serenity. Being disabled
ous in providing us with every thing neces- myself from assisting my son in our usual
sary, and offering whatever consolation occupations, I read to my family from the
untutored benevolence could suggest.
few books that were saved, and particular.
When the fears of my family had sub- ly from such as, by amusing the imaginasided, curiosity to know the cause of my tion, contributed to ease the heart. Our
long stay began to take place. Having good neighbours, too, came every day
therefore informed them of every particu- with the kindest condolence, and fixed a
lar, I proceeded to prepare them for the time in which they were all to assist at rereception of our lost one; and though we pairing my former dwelling.-Honest Farhad nothing but wretchedness now to im- mer Williams was not last among these vi.
part, I was willing to procure her a wel- sitors, but heartily offered his friendship.
come to what we had. This task would He would even have renewed his addresses
have been more difficult, but for our recent to my daughter ; but she rejected them in
calamity, which had humbled my wife's such a manner as totally repressed his fupride, and blunted it by more poignant af- ture solicitations.-Her grief seemed formflictions. Being unable to go for my poor i ed for continuing, and she was the only
child myself, as my arm grew very painful, person of our little society that a week did
I sent my son and daughter, who soon re- not restore to cheerfulness. She now lost
turned, supporting the wretched delin- that unblushing innocence which once
quent, who had not the courage to look up taught her to respect herself, and to seek
at her mother, whom no instructions of pleasure by pleasing. Anxiety now had
mine could persuade to a perfect reconcili- taken strong possession of her mind, her
ation; for women have a much stronger beauty began to be impaired with her consense of female error than men.-" Ah! stitution, and neglect still more contributed
madam," cried her mother, " this is but a to diminish it. Every tender epithet bepoor place you are come to after so much stowed on her sister, brought a pang to her
finery. My daughter Sophy and I can af- heart, and a tear to her eye; and as one
ford but little entertainment to persons vice,' though cured, ever plants others
who have kept company only with people where it has been, so her former guilt,
of distinction. Yes, Miss Livy, your poor though driven out by repentance, left jeafather and I have suffered very much of lousy and envy behind. I strove a thoulate; but I hope Heaven will forgive you." sand ways to lessen her care, and even forDuring this reception, the unhappy victim got my own pain in a concern for hers,
stood pale and trembling, unable to weep, collecting such amusing passages of history,
or to reply : but I could not continue a si- as a strong memory and some reading could
lent spectator of her distress; wherefore, suggest. " Our happiness, my dear," I
assuming a degree of severity in my voice would say, "is in the power of one who
and manner, which was ever followed with can bring it about a thousand unforeseen
instant submission, " I intreat, woman, ways that mock our foresight. If example
that my words may be now marked once for be necessary to prove this, I'll give you a
all; I have here brought you back a poor story, my child, told us by a grave, though
deluded wanderer; her return to duty de- sometimes a romancing, historian.
mands the revival of our tenderness. The
" Matilda was married very young to a
real hardships of life are now coming fast Neapolitan nobleman of the first quality,
upon us; let us not, therefore, increase and found herself a widow and a mother at
them by dissention among each other. If the age of fifteen. As she stood one day
we live harmoniously together, we may yet caressing her infant son in the open winbe contented, as there are enough of us to dow of an apartment, which hung over the
shut out the censuring world, and keep river Volturna, the child, with a sudden
each other in countenance. The kindness spring, leaped from her arms into the flood
of Heaven is promised to the penitent, and below, and disappeared in a moment. The
let ours be directed by the example. Hea- mothi r, struck with instant surprise, and
yen we are assured, is much more pleased to making an effort to save him, plunged in
view a repentant sinner, than ninety-nine after ; but, far from being able to assist
persons who have supported a course of the infant, she herself, with great difficulty
undeviating rectitude. And this is right; escaped to the opposite shore, just when
for that single effort by which we stop some French soldiers were plundering the
short in the downhill path to perdition, is country on that side, who immediately
itself a greater exertion of virtue than a made her their prisoner.
hundred acts of justice."
" As the war was then carried on between the French and Italians with the
utmost inhumanity, they were going at
once to perpetrate those two extremes sugCHAP. XXIII.
gested by appetite and cruelty. This base
resolution, however, was opposed by a
Nne Int the guilty can be long and com- young officer, who, though their retreat
pletely miserable
required the utmost expedition, placed her
behind him, and brought her in safety to
SoE assiduity was now required to make his native city. Her beauty at first caught
our present abode as convenient as possi- his eye, her merit soon after his heart.
ble, and we were soon again qualified to They were married: he rose to the high.

VICAR OF WAKEFIELD.

43

est posts: they lived long together, and the letter, which he was therefore obliged
were happy. But the felicity of a soldier toleave, as Mr. Thornhill and Miss Wil.
can never be called permanent. After an mot were visiting round the country. They
interval of several years, the troops which were to be married he said, in a few days,
he commanded having met with a repulse, having appeared together at church the
he was obliged to take shelter in the city Sunday before he was there, in great splen.
where he had lived with his wife. Here dour, the bride attended by six young la.
they suffered a siege, and the city at length dies, and he by as many gentlemen. Their
was taken. Few histories can produce approaching nuptials filled thewhole counmore various instances of cruelty, than try with rejoicing, and they usually rode
those which the French and Italians at out together in the grandest equipage that
that time exercised upon each other. It had been seen in the country for many
was resolved by the victors, upon this oc- years. All the friends of both families, he
casion, to put all the French prisoners to said, were there, particularly the squire's
death, but particularly the husband of the uncle, William Thornhill, who bore so
Sir
unfortunate Matilda, as he was principally good a character. He added, that nothing
instrumental in protracting the siege. but mirth and feasting weregoing forward;
Their determinations were, in general, ex- that all the country praised the young
ecuted almost as soon as resolved upon. bride's beauty, and the bridegroom's fine
The captive soldier was led forth, and the person, and that theywere immensely fond
executioner with his sword, stood ready, of each other; concluding, that he could
while the spectators, in gloomy silence, not help thinking Mr. Thornhill one of the
awaited the fatal blow, which was only sus- most happy men in the world.
pended till the general who presided as
" Why let him, if he can," returned I,
,udge, should give the signal. It was in " but my son, observe this bed of straw,
this interval of anguish and expectation, and unsheltering roof;those mouldering
that Matilda came to take her last farewell walls and humid floor; my wretched body
ofher husband and deliverer, deploring her thus disabled by fire, and my children
wretched situation, and the cruelty of fate, weeping round me for bread; you have
that had saved her from perishing by a come home, my child, to all this, yet here,
premature death in the river Volturna, to even here, you see a man that would not
be the spectator of still greater calamities. for a thousand worlds, exchange situaThe general, who was a young man, was tions. O my children, if you could but
struck with surprise at her beauty, and learn to commune with Vour own hearts,
pity at her distress, but with still stronger and know what noble company you can
emotions when he heard her mention her make them, you would little regard the eleformer dangers. He was her son, the in- gance and splendour of the worthless. Alfant for whom she had encountered so most all men have been taught to call life
much danger. He acknowledged her at a passage, and themselves the travellers.
once as his mother, and fell at her feet. The similitude still may be improved, when
The rest may be easily supposed : the cap- we observe that the good are joyful and setives were set free, and all the happiness rene, like travellers that are going towards
that love, friendship, and duty, could con- home; the wicked but by intervals happy,
fer each, were united."
on
like travellers that are going into exile."
In this manner I would attempt to
My compassion for my poor daughter,
amuse my daughter : butshe listened with overpowered by this new disaster, interdivided attention; for her own misfortunes rupted what I had farther to observe. I
engrossed all the pity she once had for bade her mother support her, and after a
those of another, and nothing gave her short time she recovered. She appeared
ease. In company she dreaded contempt, from that time more calm, and I imagined
and in solitude she only found anxiety. had gained a new degree of resolution; but
Such was the colour of her wretchedness, appearances deceived me; for her tranquilwhen we received certain information that lity was the languor of over-wrought re.
Mr. Thornhill was going to be married to sentment. A supply of provisions, charitaMiss Wilmot, for whom I always suspect- bly sent us by my kind parishioners, seemed
ed he had a real passion, though he took to diffuse new cheerfulness among the rest
every opportunity, before me, to express his of my family; nor was I displeased at seecontempt both of her person and fortune, ing them once more sprightly and at ease.
This news only served to increase poor Oli- It would have been unjust to damp their
via's affliction; for such a flagrant breac satisfactions merely to condole withresoof fidelity was more than her courage could lute melancholy, or to burden them with a
support. I was resolved, however, to get sadness they did not feel. Thus, once more
more certain information, and to defeat, if the tale went round, and the song was depossible, thecompletion of his designs, by, manded, and cheerfulness condescended to
sending my son to old Mr. Wilmot's with hover round our little habitation,
instructions to know the truth of this re---port, and to deliver Miss Wilmot a letter,
intimating Mr. Thornhill's conduct in my
CHAP. XXIV.
family. My son went, in pursuance of my
directions, and in three days returned, asFresh Calamities.
suring us of the truth of the account; but
that he had found it impossible to deliver THE next morning the sun arose with pe-

44

VICAR OF WAKEFIELD.

culiar warmth for the season; so that we
agreed to breakfast together on the honeysuckle bank; where, while we sat, my
youngest daughter, at my request, joined
her voice with the concert on the trees
about us. It was in this place my poor
Olivia first met her seducer, and every object served to recall her sadness. But that
melancholy which is excited by objects of
pleasure, or inspired by sounds of harmony,
soothes the heart instead of corroding it.
Her mother, too, upon this occasion, felt a
pleasing distress, and wept, and loved her
daughter as before. " Do, my pretty Olivia," cried she, "let us have that little
melancholy air your papa was so fond of;
your sister Sophy has already obliged us.
Do child: it will please your old father."
She complied in a manner so exquisitely
pathetic as moved me.
When lovely woman stoops to folly,
And finds too late that men betray,
What charm can soothe her melancholy,
What art can wash her guilt away.
The only art her guilt to cover,
To hide her shame from every eye,
To give repentance to her lover,
And wring his bosom,-is to die.
As she was concluding the last stanza,
to which an interruption in her voice,
from sorrow, gate peculiar softness, the
appearance of Mr. Thornhill's equipage at
a distance, alarmed us all, but particularly
increased the uneasiness of my eldest
daughter, who, desirous of shunning her
betrayer, returned to the house with her
sister. In a few minutes he was alighted
from his chariot, and making up to the
place where I was still sitting, inquired after my health with his usual air of familiarity. " Sir," replied I, "your present assurance only server to aggravate the baseness of your character ; and there was a
time when I would have chastised your
insolence, for presuming thus to appear before me. But now you are safe; for age
has cooled my passions, and my calling restrains them."
" I vow, my dear Sir," returned he, " I
am amazed at all this; nor can I understand what it means ! I hope you don't
think your daughter's late excursion with
me had any thing criminal in it."
" Go," cried I, "thou art a wretch, a
poor pitiful wretch, and every way a liar ;
but your meanness secures you from my
anger ! yet, Sir, I am descended from a
family that would not have borne this!
And so, thou vile thing, to gratify a momentary passion, thou hast made one poor
creature wretched for life, and polluted a
family ghat had nothing but honour for
their portion."
" If she or you," returned he, "are resolved to be miserable, I cannot help it.
But you may still be happy; and whatever
opinion you may have formed of me, you
shall ever find me ready to contribute to it.
We can marry her to another, and, what is

more, she may keep her lover beside; for
I protest I shall ever continue to have a
true regard for her."
I found all my passions awakened at this
new degrading proposal; for though the
mind may often be calm under great injuries, little villany can at any time get
within the soul, and sting it into rage.
" Avoid my sight, thou reptile," cried I,
"nor continue to insult me with thy presence. Were my brave son at home, he
would not suffer this : but I am old and
disabled, and every way undone."
" I find," cried he, "you are bent upon
obliging me to talk in a harsher manner
than I intended. But, as I have shown
you what may be hoped from my friendship, it may not be improper to represent
what may be the consequences of my resentment. My attorney, to whom your
late bond has been transferred, threatens
hard; nor do I know how to prevent the
course of justice, except by paying the money myself; whicht, as I have been at some
expenses lately, previous to my intended
marriage, is not so easy to be done. And
then my steward talks of driving for the
rent : it is certain he knows his duty : for I
never trouble myself with affairs of that
nature. Yet still I could wish to serve you,
and even to have you and your daughter
present at my marriage, which is shortly to
be solemnized with Miss Wilmot ; it is
even the request of my charming Arabella herself, whom I hope you will not
refuse."
" Mr. Thornhill," replied I, " hear m
once for all; as to your marriage with any
but my daughter, that I never will consent
to; and though your friendship could raise
me to a throne, or your resentment sink
me to the grave, yet would I despise both.
Thou hast once woefully, irreparably deceived me. I reposed my heart upon
thine honour, and have found its baseness.
Never more, therefore, expect
friendship
from me. Go, and possess what fortune
has given thee, beauty, riches, health, and
pleasure. Go, and leave me to want, infamy, disease, and sorrow. Yet, humbled
as I am, shall my heart still vindicate its
dignity, and though thou hast my forgiveness, thou shalt ever have my contempt."
" If so," returned he, "depend upon it
you shall feel the effects of this insolence,
and we shall shortly see which is the fittest
object of scorn, you or me." Upon which
he departed abruptly.
My wife and son, who were present at
this interview, seemed terrified with apprehension. My daughters also, finding
that he was gone, came out to be informed
of the result of our conference, which, when
known, alarmed them not less than the
rest. But as to myself, I disregarded the
utmost stretch of his malevolence. He had
already struck the blow, and now I stood
prepared to repel every new effort; like
one of those instruments used in the art of
war, which, however thrown, still presents
a point to receive the enemy.
We soon, however, found, that he had not

VICAR OF WAKEFIELD.
threatened in vain: for the very next morning his steward
came todemand my annual rent, which, by the train of accidents already related, I was unable to pay. The
consequence of my incapacity was hisdriving my cattle that evening, and their being
appraised and sold the next day for less
than half their value. My wife and children now, therefore, entreated me to comply upon any terms, rather than incur certain destruction. They even begged of me
to admit his visits once more, and used all
their little eloquence paint the calamito
ties I was going to endure; the terrors of
a prison in so rigorous a season as the present, with the danger that threatened my
health from the late accident that happened by the fire. But I continued inflexible.
" Why, my treasures," cried I, " why
will you thus attempt to persuade me to
the thing that is not right ! My duty has
taught
me to forgive him; but my conscience will not permit me to approve.
Would you have me applaud to the world
what my heart must internally condemn ?
Would you have me tamely sit down and
flatter our infamous betrayer, and, to avoid
a prison, continually suffer the more galling
bonds of mental confinement ? No,
never. If we are to be taken from this
abode, only let us hold to the right; and
wherever we are thrown, we can still retire to a charming apartment, when we can
look round our own hearts with intrepidity
and with pleasure !"
In this manner we spent that evening.
Early the next morning, as the snow had
fallen in great abundance in the night, my
son was employed in clearing it away, and
opening a passage before the door. He
had not been thus engaged long, when he
came running in, with looks all pale, to
tell us that two strangers, whom he knew
to be officers of justice, were making towards the house,
Just as he spoke, they came in, and approaching the bed where I lay, after previously informing me of their employment
and business, made me their prisoner,
bidding me prepare to go with them to
the county gaol, which was eleven miles
off
" My friends," said I, " this is severe
weather in which you have come to take
me to a prison; and it is particularly unfortunate at this time; as one of my arms has
lately been burnt in a terrible manner, and
it has thrown me into a slight fever ; and
I want clothes to cover me, and I am now
too weak and old to walk far in such deep
snow; but, if it must be so, I'll try to obey
you."
I then turned to my wife and children,
and directed them to get together what
few things were left us, and to prepare immediately for leaving this place. I entreated them to be expeditious, and desired my
son to assist his eldest sister, who, from a
consciousness that she was the cause of all
our calamities, was fallen, and had lost anguish in insensibility. I encouraged my

45

wife, who, pale and trembling, clasped our
affrighted little ones in her arms, that clung
to her bosom in silence, dreading to look
round at the strangers. In the mean time,
my youngest daughter prepared for our departure; and as she received several hints
to use despatch, in about an hour we were
ready to depart

CHAP. XXV.
No situation,however wretched it
seems,
but
has some sort comfort attending it.
of
WE set forward from this peaceful neighbourhood, and walked on slowly. My eldest daughter, being enfeebled by a slow
fever, which had begun for some days to
undermine her constitution, one of the officers who had a horse, kindly took her behind him; for even these men cannot entirely divest themselves ofhumanity. My
son led one of the little ones by the hand,
and my wife the other, while I leaned upon
my youngest girl, whose tears fell, not for
her own, but my distresses.
We were now got from my late dwelling
about two miles, when we saw a crowd running and shouting behind us, consisting of
about fifty of my poorest parishioners.
These, with dreadful imprecations, soon
seized upon the two officers of justice, and,
swearing they would never see their minister go to gaol while they had a drop of
blood to shed in his defence, were going to
use them with great severity. The consequences might have been fatal, had I not
immediately interposed, and, with some
difficulty, rescued the officers from the
hands of the enraged multitude.
My
children, who looked upon my delivery
now as certain, appeared transported with
joy, and were incapable of containing their
raptures. But they were soon undeceived,
upon bearing me address the poor deluded
people, who came, as they imagined, to do
me service.
"What! my friends," cried I, "and is
this the way you love me? Is this the
manner you obey the instructions I have
given you from the pulpit? Thus to fly
in the face of justice, and bring down ruin
on yourselves and me! Who is your ringleader? Show me the man that has thus
seduced you : as sure as he lives he shall
feel my resentment. Alas! my dear deluded flock, return back to the duty ynou
owe to God, to your country, and to me.
I shall yet perhaps one day see you in
greater felicity here, and contribute to
make your lives more happy. But let it at
least be my comfort, when I pen my fold
for immortality, that not one here shall be
wanting."
They now seemed all repentance, and,
melting into tears, came one after the other
to bid me farewell. I shook each tenderly
by the hand, and leaving them my bless
ing, proceeded forward without meeting
any farther interruption. Some hours b(

46

VICAR OF WAKEFIELD.

fore night we reached the town, or rather
village, for it consisted but of a few mean
houses, having lost all its former opulence,
and retaining no mark of its ancient superiority but the gaol.
Upon entering, we put up at an inn,
where we had such refreshments as could
most readily be procured, and I supped
with my family with my usual cheerfulness. After seeing them properly accommodated for that night, I next attended
the sheriff's officers to the prison, which
had formerly been built for the purposes of

war, and consisted of one large apartment,
strongly grated and paved with stone, common to both felons and debtors at certain
hours in the four-and-twenty. Besides
this, every prisoner had a separate cell,
where he was locked in for the night.
I expected, upon my entrance, to find
nothing but lamentations and various
sounds of misery ; but it was very different :
She prisoners seemed all employed in one
Common design, that of forgetting thought
in merriment or clamour. I was apprized
of the usual perquisite required upon these
occasions, and immediately complied with
the demand, though the little money I had
was very near being all exhausted. This
was immediately sent away for liquor, and
the whole prison was soon filled with riot,
laughter, and profaneness.
"How !" cried I to myself," shall men
so very wicked be cheerful, and shall I be
melancholy ! I feel only the same confinement with them, and I think I have mere
reason to be happy."
With such reflections I laboured to
become cheerful, but cheerfulness was
never yet produced by effort, which is itself painful. As I was sitting, therefore,
in a corner of the gaol, in a pensive posture, one of my fellow-prisoners came up,
and, sitting by me, entered into conversation. It was my constant rule in life never
to avoid the conversation of any man who
seemed to desire it: for, if good, I might
profit by his instructions; if bad, he might
be assisted by mine. I found this to be a
knowing man, of strong unlettered sense,
but a thorough knowledge of the world, as
it is called, or, more properly speaking, of
human nature on the wrong side. He asked me if I had taken care to provide myself with a bed, which was a circumstance
I had never once attended to.
"That's unfortunate," cried he, "as you
are allowed here nothing but straw, and
your apartment is very large and cold.
However, you seem to be something of a
gentleman, and, as I have been one myself
in my time, part of my bed-clothes are
heartily at your service."
I thanked him, professing my surprise at
finding such humanity, in a gaol, in misfortunes; adding, to let him see that I was a
scholar, that "the sage ancient seemed to
understand the value of company in affliction, when he said, ' Ton kosmon aire, ei
dos ton etairon;' and in fact," continued
I, "what is the world if it afbrds only solitude!"

" You talk of the world, Sir," returned
my fellow-prisoner, "the world is in its dotage; and yet the cosmogony, or creation
of the world, has puzzled the philosophers
of every age. What a medley of opinions
have they not broached upon the creation
of the world. Sanconiathon, Manetho, Berosus, and Ocellus Lucanus, have all attempted it in vain. The latter has these
words Anarchon arakaiatelutaionto pan ;
which implies,"" I ask your pardon,
Sir," cried I, "for interrupting so much
learning; but I think I have heard all this
before. Have I not had the pleasure of
once seeing you at Welbridge fair, and is
not your name Ephraim Jenkinson ?" At
this demand he only sighed. " I suppose
you must recollect," resumed I, "one Doctor Primrose, from whom you bought a
horse."
He now at once recollected me: for the
gloominess of the place, and the approaching night, had prevented his distinguishing
my features before. "Yes, Sir," returned
Mr. Jenkinson, " I remember you perfectly well; I bought a horse, but forgot to pay
for him. Your neighbour Flamborough is
the only prosecutor I am any way afraid of
at the next assizes; for he intends to swear
positively against me as a coiner. I am
heartily sorry, Sir, I ever deceived you, or
indeed any man: for you see," continued
he, showing me his shackles, "what my
tricks have brought me to."
" Well, Sir," replied I, "your kindness
in offering me assistance, when you could
expect no return, shall be repaid by my
endeavours to soften, or totally suppress
Mr. Flamborough's evidence, and I will
send my son to him for that purpose the
first opportunity; nor do I in the least
doubt but he will comply with my request ;
and as to my own evidence, you need be
under no uneasiness about that."
" Well, Sir," cried he, " all the return
I can make shall be yours. You shall have
more than half my bed-clothes to-night,
and I'll take care to stand your friend in
the prison, where I think I have some influence."
I thanked him, and could not avoid being surprised at the present youthful
change in his aspect; for at the time I had
seen him before, he appeared at least sixty.
" Sir," answered he, " you are little
acquainted with the world: I had at that
time false hair, and have learned the art
of counterfeiting every age from seventeen
to seventy. Ah ! Sir, had I but bestowed
half the pains in learning a trade, that I
have in learning to be a scoundrel, I might
have been a rich man at this day. But,
rogue as I am, still I may be your friend,
and that perhaps when you least expect
it."
We were now prevented from farther
conversation by the arrival of the jailor's
servants, who came to call over the prisoners' names, and lock up for the night. A
fellow also, with a bundle of straw for my
bed, attended, who led me along a dark
narrow passage into a room paved like the

VICAR OF WAKEFIELD.
common prison, and in one corner of this
I spread my bed, and the clothes given me
by my fellow-prisoner; which done, my
conductor, who was civil enough, bade me
a good night. After my usual meditations, and having praised my heavenly
Corrector, I laid myself down, and slept
with the utmost tranquillity till morning.

41?

the rest, I walked down to the common
prison, where I could enjoy more air and
room. But I was not long there, when
the execrations, lewdness, and brutality,
that invaded me on every side, drove me
back to my apartment again. Here I sat
for some time pondering upon the strange
infatuation of wretches, who finding all
mankind in open arms against them, were
labouring to make themselves a future and
tremendous enemy.
CHAP. XXVI.
Their insensibility excited my highest
compassion, and blotted my own uneasi4 reformation in the gaol. To make laws ness a while from my mind. It even apcomplete, they should reward as well as peared a duty incumbent upon me to at.
punish.
tempt to reclaim them. I resolved, therefore, once more to return, and in spite of
T E next morning early, I was awakened their contempt, to give them my advice,
by my family, whom I found in tears at and conquer them by perseverance. Gomy bed-side. The gloomy strength of every ing, therefore, among them again, I in.
thing about us, it seems, had daunted formed Mr. Jenkinson of my design, at
them. I gently rebuked their sorrow, which he laughed heartily, but communiassuring them I had never slept with cated it to the rest. The proposal was regreater tranquillity, and next inquired af- ceived with the greatest good humour, as
ter my eldest daughter, who was not it promised to afford a new fund of enteramong them. They informed me, that tainment to persons who had now no other
yesterday's uneasiness and fatigue had in- resource for mirth but what could be decreased her fever, and it was judged pro- rived from ridicule or debauchery.
per to leave her behind. My next care
I therefore read them a portion of the
was to send my son to procure a room or service with a loud unaffected voice, and
two to lodge my family in, as near the pri- found my audience perfectly merry upon
son as conveniently could be found. He the occasion. Lewd whispers, groans of
obeyed, but could only find one apartment, contrition burlesqued, winking and coughwhich was hired at a small expense, for his ing, alternately excited laughter. Howmother and sisters; the gaoler, with hu- ever, I continued
with my natural solemmanity, consenting to let him and his two nity to read on, sensible that what I did
little brothers lie in the prison with me. might amend some, but could itself receive
A bed was therefore prepared for them in no contamination from any.
a corner of the room, which, I thought,
After reading, I entered upon my exanswered very conveniently. I was willing, hortation, which was rather calculatea at
however, previously to know whether my first to amuse them than to reprove; I
little children chose to lie in a place which previously observed, that no other motive
seemed to fright them upon entrance.
but their welfare could induce me to this :
" Well," cried I, " my good boys, how that I was their fellow-prisoner, and now
do you like your bed? I hope you are not got nothing by preaching. I was sorry, I
afraid lie in this
to
room, dark as it ap- said, to hear them so very profane, bepears."
cause they got nothing by it, but might
"No, papa," says Dick," I am not afraid lose a great deal: " For be assured my
to lie any where, where you are."
friends, "cried I, "for you are my friends,
" And I," says Bill, who was yet but however the world may disclaim your
four years old, " love every place best that friendship, though you swore twelve thoumy papa is in."
sand oaths in a day, it would not put one
After this, I allotted to each of the fa- penny in your purse. Then, what signimily what they were to do. My daughter fies
calling every moment upon the devil,
was particularly directed to watch her de- and courting his friendship, since you find
clining
sister's health ; my wife was to at- how scurvily he uses you. He has given
tend me; my little boys were to read to you nothing here, you find, but a mouthme: "And as for you, my son," continued ful of oaths and an empty belly; and, by
I, "it is by the labour of your hands we the best accounts I have of him, he will
must all hope to be supported. Your give you nothing that's good hereafter.
wages, as a day-labourer, will be fully suf"If used ill in our dealings with one
ficient, with proper frugality, to maintain man, we naturally go elsewhere. Were it
is all, and comfortably too. Thou art now not worth your while, then, just to try
Aixteen years old, and hast
strength, and it how you may like the usage of another
has given thee, my son, for very useful master, who gives you fair pronmises at
parposes : for it must save from famine least to come to him ? Surely, my friends,
,our helpless parents and family. Prepare, of all stupidity in the world, his must be
then, this evening to look out for work greatest, who after robbing a house, runs
against to-morrow, and bring home every to the thief-takers for protection. And yet
night what money you earn for our sup- how are you more wise? you are all seek.port."
ing comfort from one that has already be.Having thus instructed him, and settled
trayed you, applying to a more malicious

VICAR OF WAKEFIELD.
being than any thief-taker of them all; for
they only decoy, and then hang you; but
he decoys and hangs, and, what is worst of
all, will not let you loose after the hangman
has done."
When I had concluded, I received the
compliments of my audience, some of whom
came and shook me by the hand, swearing
that I was a very honestfellow,and that they
desired my farther acquaintance. I therefore promised to repeat my lecture next
day, and actually conceived some hopes of
making a reformation here; for it had ever
been my opinion, that no man was past the
hour of amendment; every heart lying
open to the shafts of reproof, if the archer
could but take a proper aim. When I had
thus satisfied my mind, I went back to my
apartment, where my wife prepared a frugal meal; while Mr. Jenkinson begged
leave to add his dinner to ours, and partake of the pleasure (as he was kind enough
to express it,) of my conversation. He had
not yet seen my family ; for, as they came
to my apartment by a door in the narrow
passage, already described, by this means
they avoided the common prison. Jenkinson at the first interview, therefore, seemed
not a little struck with the beauty of my
youngest daughter, which her pensive air
contributed to heighten, and my little ones
did not pass unnoticed.
" Alas, Doctor," cried he, "these children are too handsome, and too good for
such a place as this !"
" Why, Mr. Jenkinson," replied I,
"thank Heaven, my children are pretty
tolerable in morals; and, if they be good, it
matters little for the rest."
" I fancv. Sir," returned my fellow-prisoner, "that it must give you great comfort
to have this little family about you!"
" A comfort ! Mr. Jenkinson," replied I,
" yes, it is indeed a comfort, and I would
not be without them for all the world; for
they can make a dungeon seem a palace.
There is but one way in this life of wounding my happiness, and that is by injuring
them."
" I am afraid then, Sir," cried he, "that
I am in some measure culpable; for I
think I see here (looking at my son Moses,)
one that I have injured, and by whom I
wish to be forgiven."
My son immediately recollected his voice
and features, though he had before seen
him in disguise, and taking him by the
hand, with a smile, forgave him. "Yet,"
continued he, " I can't help wondering at
what you could see in my face, to think me
a proper mark for deception."
"My dear Sir," returned the other, "it
was not your face, but your white stockings, and the black ribbon in your hair,
that allured me. But no disparagement to
your parts, I have deceived wiser men than
you in my time, and yet, with all my tricks,
the blockheads have been too many for me
at last."
"I suppose," cried my son, "that the
narrative of such a life as yours, must be
extremely instructive and amusing."

"
Not much of either," returned Mr.
Jenkinson, "those relations which describe
the tricks and vices only of mankind, by
increasing our suspicion in life, retard our
success. The traveller that distrusts every
person he meets, and turns back upon the
appearance of every man that looks like a
robber, seldom arrives is. time at his journey's end.
SIndeed, I think, from my own experience,that the knowing one is the silliest
fellow under the sun. I was thought cunning from my very childhood. When but
seven years old, the ladies would say that
I was a perfect little man; at fourteen, I
knew the world, cocked my hat, and loved
theladies; at twenty, though I was perfectly honest, yet every one thought me so
cunning, that not one would trust me.
Thus I was at last obliged to turn sharper
in my own defence, and have lived ever
since, my head throbbing with schemes to
deceive, and my heart palpitating with
fears of detection.
" 1 used often to laugh at your honest
simple neighbour Flamborough, and, one
way or another, generally cheated him once
a-year. Yet still the honest man went forward without suspicion, and grew rich,
while 1 still continued tricksey and cunning,
and was poor, without the consolation of
being honest."
" However," continued he, "let me
know your case, and what has brought you
here; perhaps, though I have not skill to
avoid a gaolmyself, I may extricate my
friends."
In compliance with his curiosity, I in.
formed him of the whole train of accidents
and follies that had plunged me into my
present troubles, and my utter inability to
get free.
After hearing my story, and pausing
some minutes, he slapped his forehead, as
if he had hit upon something material, and
took his leave, saying, he would try what
could be done.

CHAP. XXVII.
The same subject continued.
THE next morning, I communicated to my
wife and children the scheme I had planned
of reforming the prisoners, which they received with universal disapprobation, alleging the impossibility and impropriety of
it; adding that my endeavours would no
way contribute to their amendment, but
might probably disgrace my calling.
"Excuse me," returned I, "these people, however fallen, are still men, and that
is a very good title to my affections. Good
counsel rejected returns to enrich the
giver's bosom; and, though the instruction I communicate, may not mend them,
yet it will assuredly mend myself. If these
wretches, my children, were princes, there
would be thousands ready to offer their
ministry; but, in my opinion, the heart

VICAR OF WAKEFIELD.

49

that is buried in a dungeon is asprecious as make men guilty, which enclose wretchee
that seated upon a throne. Yes,
my trea- for the commission of one crime, and resures, if I can mend them I will perhaps turn them, if returned alive, fitted for the
;
they will not all despise me. Perhaps I perpetration of thousands, it were to be
may catch up even one from the gulph, wished we had, as in other parts of Eu.
and that will great gain; for is there rope, places of penitence and solitude,
be
upon earth a gem so precious as the human where the accused might be attended by
soul?"
such as could give them repentance, if
Thus saying, I left them, and descended guilty, or new motives of virtue, if innoto the common prison, where I found the cent. And this, but not the increasing
prisoners very merry expecting my arrival, punishments, is the way to mend a state.
and each prepared with some gaol trick to Nor can I avoid even questioning the vaplay upon the doctor. Thus, as I was go- lidity of that right which social combina.
ing to begin, one turned my wig awry, as tions have assumed, of capitally punishing
if by accident, and then asked my pardon. offences of a slight nature. In cases of
A second, who stood at some distance, had murder, their right is obvious, as it is the
a knack of spitting through his teeth, duty of us all, from the law of self-defence,
which fell in showersupon my book. A to cut off that man who has shown a disrethird would cry, Amen, in such an affect- gard for the life of another. Against such,
ed tone, as gave the rest great delight. A all nature rises in arms; but it is not so
fourth had slily picked my pocket of my against him who steals my property. Naspectacles. But there was one whose trick tural law gives me no right to take away
gave more universal pleasure than all the his life, as, by that, the horse he steals is
rest; for observing the manner in which as much his property as mine. If, then,
I
I had disposed my books on the table be- have any right, it must be from a compact
fore me, he very dexterously displaced one made between us, that he who deprives the
of them, and put an obscene jest-book of other of his horse shall die. But this is a
his own in the place. However, I took no false compact: because no man has a right
notice of all that this mischievous group of to barter his life, any more than to take it
little beings could do, but went on, perfect- away, as it is not his own. And besides
ly sensible, that what was ridiculous in my the compact is inadequate, and would be
attempt, would excite mirth only the first set aside, even in a court of modern equity,
or second time, while what was serious as there is a great penalty for a very triwould be permanent. My design succeed- fling convenience, since it is far better that
ed; and, in less than six days, some were two men should live, than that one man
penitent, and all attentive.
should ride. But a compact that is false
It was now that I applauded my perse- between two men, is equally so between a
verance and address, at thus giving sensi- hundred, or a hundred thousand: for as
bility to wretches divested of every moral ten millions of circles can never make a
feeling; and now began to think of doing square, so the united voice of myriads canthem temporal services also, by rendering not lend the smallest foundation to falsetheir situation somewhat more comfort- hood. It is thus that Reason speaks, and
able. Their time had hitherto been di- untutored Nature says the same thing.
vided between famine and excess, tumultu- Savages, that are directed by natural law
ous riot and bitter repining. Their only alone, are very tender of the lives of each
employment was quarrelling among each other; they seldom shed blood but to retaother, playing at cribbage, and cutting to- liate
former cruelty.
bacco-stoppers. From this last mode of idle
Our Saxon ancestors, fierce as they were
industry,
I took the hint of setting such as in war, had but few executions in times of
chose to work at cutting pegs for tobacco- peace; and in all commencing governnists shoemakers, the proper wood be- ments, that have the print of nature still
and
ng bought a general subscription, and, strong upon them, scarce any crime is held
by
when manufactured, sold by my appoint- capital.
mesnt so that each earned sonethming eve;
It is among the citizens of a refined comry day; a trifle indeed, but sufficient munity, that penal laws,
to
which are in the
maintain him.
hands of the rich, are laid upon the poor.
I did not stop here, but instituted fines Government, while it grows older, seems
for the punishment of immorality, and re- to acquire themoroseness of age; and, as
wards for
peculiar industry. Thus, in less if our property were become dearer
prothan a fortnight, I had formed them into portion as it increased, as if the moreinenorsomething
social and humane, and had mous our wealth the more extensive our
the pleasure of regarding myself as a legis- fears, all our possessions are paled up with
lator, wiho had brought men from their new edicts every day, and hung round with
native ferocity into friendship and obedi- gibbets to scare every invader.
ence.
I cannot tell whether it is from the numAnd it were highly to be wished, that her of our penal laws, or the licentiousness
legislative power would thus direct the law of our people, that this country should show
rather to reformation than severity ;-that more convicts in a year than half the doit would seem convinced, that the work of minions of Europe united. Perhaps it is
eradicating crimes, is not by making pun- owing to both; for they mutually produce
ishments familiar, but formidable. Then, eachother. When, by indiscriminate pinistcacd of our present
prisons which find or nal
laws, a nation beholds the same punishG

VICAR OF WAKEFIELD.
ment affixed to dissimilar degrees of guilt,
from perceiving no distinction in the penalty, the people are led to lose all sense of
distinction in the crime; and this distinction is the bulwark of all morality. Thus
the multitude of laws produce new vices,
and new vices call for fresh restraints.
It were to be wished, then, that power,
instead of contriving new laws to punish
vice; instead of drawing hard the cords of
society, till a convulsion come to burst
them; instead of cutting away wretches as
useless, before we have tried their utility ;
instead of converting correction into vengeance; it were to be wished that we tried
the restrictive arts of government, and
made law the protector, but not the tyrant
of the people. We should then find that
creatures, whose souls are held as dross,
only wanted the hand of a refiner: we
should then find that creatures, now stuck
up for long tortures, lest luxury should
feel a momentary pang, might, if properly
treated, serve tosinew the state in times of
danger; that as their faces are like ours,
their hearts are so too; that few minds
are so base as that perseverance cannot
amend; that a man may see his last crime
without dying for it, and that very little
blood will serve to cement our security.

CHAP. XXVIII.
HIappiness and misery rather the result of
prudence than of virtue in this life; temporal
evils orfelicities being regarded by
Heaven as things merely in themselves
trifling, and unworthy its care in the distribution.
I HAD now been confined more than a fortnight, but had not since my arrival been
visited by my dear Olivia, and I greatly
longed to see her. Having communicated
my wishes to my wife, the next morning
the poor girl entered my apartment, leaning on her sister's arm. The change which
I saw in her countenance struck me. The
numberless graces that once resided there
were now fled, and the hand of death
seemed to have moulded every feature to
alarm me. Her temples were sunk, her
forehead was tense, and a fatal paleness
sat upon her cheek.
" I am glad to see thee, my dear," cried
I, "but why this dejection, Livy? I hope,
my love, you have too great a regard for
me, to permit disappointment thus to undermine a life which I prize as my own.
Be cheerful, child, and we yet may see
happier days."
SYou have ever, Sir," replied she,
"been kind to me, and it adds to my pain,
that I shall never have an opportunity of
sharing that happiness you promise. Happiness, I fear, is no longer reserved for me
here; and I long to be rid of a place where
I have only found distress. Indeed, Sir, I
wish you would make a proper submission
to Mr. Thornhill; it may in some measure

induce him to pity you, and it will give me
relief in dying."
" Never, child," replied I, "never will
I be brought to acknowledge my daughter
a prostitute; for though the world may
look upon your offence with scorn, let it
be mine to regard it as a mark of credulity, not of guilt. My dear, I am no way
miserable in this place, however dismal it
may seem; and be assured, that while you
continue to bless me by living, he shall
never have my consent to make you more
wretched by marrying another."
After the departure of my daughter, my
fellow-prisoner, who was by at this interview, sensibly enough expostulated upon
my obstinacy, in refusing a submission
which promised to give me freedom. He
observed, that the rest of my family was
not to be sacrificed to the peace of one
child alone, and she the only one who had
offended me.-" Besides," added he, " I
don't know if it be just thus obstruct the
to
union of man and wife, which you do at
present, by refusing to consent to a match
which you cannot hinder, but may render
unhappy."
" Sir," replied I, " you are unacquainted with the man that oppresses us. I am
very sensible that no submission I can
make could procure me liberty even for an
hour. I am told that, even in this very
room, a debtor of his, no later than last
year, died for want. But though my submission and approbation could transfer me
from hence to the most beautiful apartment he is possessed of,
yet I would grant
neither, as something whispers me that it
would be giving a sanction to adultery.
While my daughter lives, no other marriage of his shall ever be legal in my eye.
Were she removed, indeed, I should be
the basest of men, from any resentment of
my own, to attempt putting asunder those
who wish for a union. No, villain as he is,
I should then wish him married, to prevent the consequences of his future de.
baucheries. But should I not now be the
most cruel of all fathers, to sign an instrument which must send my child to the
grave, merely to avoid a prison myself;
and thus, to escape pne pang, break my
child's heart with a thousand."
He acquiesced in the justice of this answer; but could not avoid observing, that
he feared my daughter's life was already
too much wasted to keep me long a prisoner. " However," continued he, " though
you refuse to submit to the nephew, I hope
you have no objections to lay your case before the uncle, who has the first character
in the kingdom for every thing that is just
and good. I would advise you to send him
a letter by the post, intimating all his nephew's ill usage, and my life for it that in
three days you shall have an answer." I
thanked him for the hint, and instantly set
about complying; but I wanted paper, and
unluckily all our money had been laid out
that morning in provisions: however he
supplied me.
For the three ensuing days I was in

r

VICAR OF WAKEFIELD.
state of anxiety, to know what reception
my letter might meet with; but, in the
mean time, was frequently solicited by my
wife to submit to any conditions rather
than remain here; and every hour received repeated accounts of the decline of
my daughter's health. The third day and
the fourth arrived, but I received no answer to my letter: the complaints of a
stranger against a favourite nephew were
not likely to succeed; so that these hopes
soon vanished like all my former. My
mind, however, still supported itself,
though confinement and bad air began to
make a visible alteration in my health,
and my arm that had suffered in the fire
grew worse. My children, however, sat
by me, and, while I was stretrhed on my
straw, read to me by turns, or listened and
wept at my instructions. But my daughter's health declined faster than mine ;
every message from her contributed to increase my apprehensions and pain. The
fifth morning, after 1 had written the letter which was sent to Sir William Thornhill, I was alarmed with an account that
she was speechless. Now it was that contnement was truly painful to me; my
soul was bursting from its prison to be near
the pillow of my child, to comfort, to
strengthen her, to receive her last wishes,
and teach her soul the way to heaven.
Another account came; she was expiring ;
and yet I was debarred the small comfort
of weeping by her. My fellow-prisoner,
some time after, came with the last account. He bade me be patient. She was
dead! The next morning he returned,
and found me with my two little ones, now
my only companions, who were using all
their innocent efforts to comfort me. They
entreated to read to me, and bid me not
cry, for I was now too old to weep. " And
is not my sister an angel, now, papa?"
cried the eldest; " and why then are you
sorry for her? I wish I were an angel out
of this frightful place, if my papa were
with me." " Yes," added my youngest
darling, "heaven, where my sister is, is a
finer place than this, and there are none
but good people there, and the people here
are very bad."
Mr. Jenkinson interrupted their harmless prattle, by observing that now my
daughter was no more, I should seriously
think of the rest of my family, and attempt to save my own life, which was
every day declining, for want of necessaries
and wholesome air. He added, that it was
now incumbent on me to sacrifice any
pride or resentment of my own, to the welfare of those who depended on me for support; and that I was now, both by reason
and justice, obliged to try to reconcile my
landlord.
" Heaven be praised," replied I, "there
is no pride left me now: I should detest
my own heart if I saw either pride or resentment lurking there. On the contrary,
as my oppressor has been once my parishioner, I hope one day to present him an
unpolluted soul at the eternal tribunal.

No, Sir, I have no resentment now; and
though he has taken from me what I beld
dearer than all his treasures, though he
has wrung my heart, for I am sick almost
to fainting, very sick, my fellow-prisoner,
yet that shall never inspire me with vengeance. I am now willing to approve his
marriage, and if this submission can do
him any pleasure, let him know, that if I
have done him any injury, I am sorry for
it." Mr. Jenkinson took pen and ink, and
wrote down my submission nearly as I
have expressed it;to which I signed my
name. My son was employed to carry the
letter to Mr. Thornhill, who was then at
his seat in the country. He went, and in
about six hours returned with a verbal answer. He had some difficulty, he said, to
get a sight of his landlord, as the servants
were insolent and suspicious ; but he accidently saw him as he was going out upon
business, preparing for his marriage, which
was to be in three days. He continued to
inform us, that he stepped up in the humblest manner and delivered the letter,
which, when Mr. Thornhill had read, he
said, that all submission was now too late
and unnecessary ; that he had heard of our
application to his uncle, which met with the
contempt it deserved; and, as for the rest,
that all future applications should be directed to his attorney, not to him. He observed, however, that as he had a very good
opinion of the discretion of the two young
ladies, they might have been the most
agreeable intercessors.
" Well, Sir," said I to my fellow-prisoner, " you now discover the temper of the
man who oppresses me. He can at once
be facetious and cruel; but let him use me
as he will, I shall soon be free, in spite of
all his bolts to restrain me. I am now
drawing towards an abode that looks
brighter as I approach it : this expectation
cheers my afflictions; and, though I leave
a helpless family of orphans behind me,
yet they will not be utterly forsaken; some
friend, perhaps, will be found to assist
them, for the sake of their poor father;
and some may charitably relieve them, for
the sake of their Heavenly Father."
Just as I spoke, my wife, whom I had
not seen that day, appeared with looks of
terror, and making efforts, but unable to
speak. " Why, my love," cried I, " why
willyou thus increase my affliction by
your own? What, though no submissions
can turn our severe master; though he
has doomed me to die in this place of
wretchedness, and though we have lost a
darling child; yet still you will find comfort in your other children, when I shall
be no more." " We have indeed lost,'
returned she, "a darling child. My Sophia, my dearest, is gone, snatched from
us, carried offby ruffians!"
"How, madam," cried my fellow-prisoner, " Miss Sophia carried off by villains!
sure it cannot be!"
She could only answer with a fixed look
and a flood of tears. But one of thc prisoners' wives, who was present, and came
02

52

VICAR OF WAKEFIELD.

fa with

her, gave us a more distinct ac- who directs all things, it has miscarried,
count. She informed us, that as my wife, and I am at rest." " Woman," cried 1,
my daughter, and herself, were taking a " thou hast done very ill, and at another
walk together on the great road, a little time my reproaches might have been more
way out of the village, a post-chaise and severe. Oh, what a tremendous gulph
four drove up to them, and instantly stop- hast thou escaped, that would have buried
ped; upon which a well-dressed man, but both thee and him in endless ruin ! Pronot Mr. Thornhill, stepping out, clasped vidence, indeed, has here been kinder to
my daughter round the waist, and forcing us, than we to ourselves. It has reserved
her in, bidthe postilion drive on; so that that son to be the father and protector of
they were out of sight in a moment.my children when I shall be away. How
" Now," cried I, " the sum of my mise- unjustly did I complain of being stripped
ries made up, nor is it in the power of of every comfort when still I hear that he
is
any thing on earth to give me another is happy, and insensible of our afflictions,
pang. What! not one left! not leave me still kept in reserve to support his widowed
one ! the monster! the child that was next mother, and to protect his brothers and
my heart ! she had the beauty of an angel, sisters ! But what sisters has he left ? he
and almost the wisdom of an angel. But has no sisters now; they are all gone, robsupport that woman, nor let her fall. Not bed from me, and I am undone."-" Fato leave me one !"-" Alas !my husband," ther," interrupted my son, " I beg you
said my wife, " you seem to want comfort will give me leave to read his letter; I
even more than I. Our distresses are know it will please you." Upon which,
great; but I could bear this, and more, if I with my permission, he read as follows:saw you but easy. They may take away
my children, and all the world, if they leave
" HONOURED SIR,
me butyou."
" I have called off my imagination a few
My son, who was present, endeavoured moments from the pleasures that surround
to moderate our grief; he bade us take me, to fix it upon objects that are still
comfort, for he hoped that we might still more pleasing, the dear little fire-side at
have reason to be thankful.-" My child," home. My fancy draws that harmless
"
cried I,
look round the world, and see if group as listening to every line of this
there be any happiness left me now. Is with great composure. I view those faces
not every ray of comfort shut out, while with delight which never felt the deform.
all our bright prospects only lie beyond the ing hand of ambition or distress ! Bit
grave!" " My dear father," returned he, whatever your happiness may be at home,
" I hope there is still something that will I am sure it will be some addition to it, to
give
you an interval of satisfaction; for I hear that I am perfectly pleased with my
have a letter from my brother George." situation, and every way happy here.
" What of him, child," interrupted I
" Our regiment is countermanded, and
" does he know our misery ? I hope my is not to leave the kingdom. The colonel,
boy is exempt from any part of what his who professes himself my friend, takes me
wretched family suffers ?" " Yes, Sir," with him to all companies where he is acreturned he, " he is perfectly gay, cheer- quainted; and, after my first visit, I geneful, and happy. His letter brings nothing rally find myself received with increased
but good news; he is the favourite of his respect upon repeating it. I danced last
colonel, who promises to procure him the night with Lady G
: and could 1
very next lieutenancy that becomes va- forget you know whom, I might be perhaps
cant."
successful. But it is my fate still to re" And are you sure of all this ?" cried member others, while I am myself forgotmy wife, " are you sure that nothing has ten by most of my absent friends; and in
befallen my boy ?" "Nothing, indeed, this number, I fear, Sir, I must consider
madam," returned my son: " you shall you; for I have long expected the pleasure
see the letter, which will give you the of a letter from home to no purpose. Olihighest pleasure; and if any thing can pro- via and Sophia too promised to write, but
cure you comfort, I am sure that will." seem to have forgotten me. Tell them
" But are you sure," still repeated she, they are two arrant little baggages, and
" that the letter is from himself, and that that I am this moment in a most viohe is really so happy?'
" Yes, madam," lent passion with them; yet still, I know
replied he, " itis certainly his, and he will not how, though I want to bluster a little,
one day be the credit and the support of my heart is respondent only to softer emo.our family!" "Then I thank Providence," tions. Then tell them, Sir, that after all,
cried she, " thatmy last letter to him I love them affectionately; and be assured
has miscarried. Yes, my dear," continued af my ever remaining
the, turning to me, " I will now confess,
" Your dutiful son."
that
though the hand of Heaven is sore
upon us in other instances it has been fa" In all our miseries," cried I, " what
vourable here. By the last letter I wrote thanks have we notto return, that one at
myvson, which was in the bitterness of an- least of our family is exempted crom
what
ger, I desired him, upon his mother's bless- we suffer. Heaven be his guard, and keep
nrag, if he had the heart of a man, to my boy thus happy, to be the supporter of
and
.. e justice done his father and sister, and his widowed mother, and the father of
avenge oui cause. But thanks
to him those two babes, which is all the patri-

re

VICAR OF

WAKEFIELD.

53

mony I can now bequeath him. May he
keep their innocence from the temptations
of want, and be their conductor in the
I had scarcely said
paths of honour."
these words, when a noise, like that of a
tumult, seemed to proceed from the prison
below; it died away soon after, and a
clanking of fetters was heard along the
passage that led to my apartment. The
keeper of the prison entered holding a man
all bloody, wounded, and fettered with
the heaviest irons. I looked with compassion the wretch as he approached me,
on
but with horror when I found it was my
own son. " My George !my George! and
do I behold thee thus ? Wounded ! fettered ! is this thy happiness ! is this the
manner you return to me! O that this
sight could break my heart at once, and
let me die l"
" Where, Sir, is your fortitude," re.
turned my son, with an intrepid voice, " I
must suffer; my life is forfeited, and let
them take it;it is my last happiness that

statute, I see no hopes of pardon.--But
you have often charmed me with your
lessons of fortitude; let me now, Sir, find
them in your example."
" And, my son, you shall find them. I
am now raised above this world, and al'
the pleasures it can produce. From this
moment I break from my heart all theties
that held it down to earth, and will prepare
to fit us both for eternity.-Yes, my son, I
will point
out the way, and my soul shall
guide yours in the ascent, for we will take
our flight together. I now see, and am
convinced, you can expect no pardon here,
and I can only exhort you, to seek it at
that greatest tribunal, where we both shall
shortly answer. But let us not be niggardly in our exhortations, but let all our
foilow-prisoners have a share; good gaoler,
let them be permitted to stand here, while
I attempt to improve them." Thus saying, made an effort to rise from my straw,
I
but wanted strength, and was able only to
recline against the wall. The prisoners as-

I have committed no murder, though I

seIbled according to my directions,

for

have lest all hopes of pardon."
they loved to hear my counsel ; my son
I tried to restrain my passions for a few and his mother supported me on either
minutes in silence; but I thought I should side: I looked and saw that none were
have died with the effort.-" O, my boy, wanting, and then addressed them with the
my heart weeps to behold thee thus, and I I following exhortation.
cannot, cannot help it. In the moment i
_
that I thought thee blessed, and prayed for
thy safety, to behold thee thus again !
CHAP. XXIX,
Chained, wounded ! And yet the death of.
the youthful is happy. But I am old, a.
demonvery old man, and have lived to see this,i The equaldealings of Providence
strated,with regard to the haptsJ and tie
my
day :-to see children all untimely fall
niserable here below.That from the nsing about me, while I continue a wretched
ture of pleasure and pain the wretche/
survivor in the midst of ruin ! May all the
of
must berepaid the balance their suf'rcurses that ever sunk a soul, fall heavy uphereafter.
ings in the lie
on the murderer of my children. May he
live, like me, to see""Hold, Sir," replied my son, " or I shall " MY friends, my children, and feilow-suf
when I reflect on the distribution of
blush for thee. How, Sir, forgetful of your ferers,
age, your holy calling, thus to arrogate the good and evil here below, I find that much
justice of Heaven, and fling those curses has been given man to enjoy, yet still more
Though we should examine the
upwards, that must soon descend to crush to suffer.
thy own grey head with destruction ! No, whole world, we shall not find one man so
Sir, let it be your care now to fit me for happy as to have nothing left to wish for;
that vile death I must shortly suffer, to but daily see thousands who by suicide,
arm me with hope and resolution, to give show us they have nothing left to hope.
me courage to drink of that bitterness In this life, then, it appears that we cannot
be entirely blessed, but we yet may be comwhich must shortly be my portion."
" My child, you must not die; I am sure pletely miserable !
"Why man should thus feel pain; wh"
no offence of thine can deserve so vile a
punishment: my George could never be our wretchedness should be requisite in th,
guilty of any crime to mnake his ancestors formation of universal felicity; why, whet,
all other systems are made perfect by the
ashamed of him."
"Mine, Sir," returned my son, "is, I perfection of their subordinate parts, the
fear, an unpardonable one. When I re. great system should require for its perfecceived my mother's letter from home, I tion, parts that are not only subordinate to
immediately came down, determined to others, but imperfect in themselves !These
punish the betrayer of our honour, and are questions that never can be explained,
sent him an order to meet me, which he and might be useless if known. On this
answered not in person, but by despatching subject Providence has thought fit to elude
four of his domestics to seize me. I wound.- our curiosity, satisfied with granting us
ed one, who first assaulted me, and, I fear motives to consolation.
"In this situation, man has called in the
desperately, but the rest made me their
determined to put friendly assistance of philosophy ; and
prisoner. The coward is
the law in execution against me: the proofs Heaven, seeing the incapacity of that to
are undeniable; I have sent a challenge console him, has given him the aid of relia'nd, as I am the first transgressor upon th gion. The consolations of philosophy are

54

VICAR OF WAKEFIELD.

very amusing, butoften fallacious. Ittells
us -that life is filled with comforts, if we
will but enjoy them; and, on the other
hand, that, though we unavoidably have
miseries here, life is short, and they will
soon be over. Thus do these consolations
destroy each other; for, if life is a place of
comfort, its shortness must be misery, and
if it be long our griefs are protracted. Thus
philosophy is weak: but religion comforts
in a higher strain. Man is here, it tells us,
fitting up his mind and preparing it for another abode. When the good man leaves
the body, and is all a glorious mind, he
will find he has been making himself a
heaven of happiness here ; while the wretch
that has been maimed, and contaminated
by his vices, shrinks from his body with
terror, and finds that he has anticipated
the vengeance of Heaven. To religion,
then, we must hold, in every circumstance
of life, for our truest comfort; for if already we are happy, it is a pleasure to
think that we can make that happiness unending : and, if we are miserable, it is very
consoling to think that there is a place of
rest. Thus, to the fortunate, religion holds
out a continuance of bliss; to the wretched
a change from pain.
"But though religion is very kind to all
men, it has promised peculiar rewards to
the unhappy; the sick, the naked, the
houseless, the heavy-laden, and the prisoner, have ever most frequent promises in our
sacred law. The author of our religion
every where professes himself the wretch's
friend, and unlike the false ones of this
world, bestows all his caresses upon the
forlorn. The unthinking have censured
this as partiality, as a preference without
merit to deserve it. But they never re.flect, that it is not in the power even of
Heaven itself, to make the offer of unceasing felicity as great a gift to the happy as
to the miserable. To the first, eternity is
but a single blessing, since, at most, it but
increases what they already possess. To
the latter, it is a double advantage; for it
diminishes their pain here, and rewards
them with heavenly bliss hereafter.
"But Providence is, in another respect,
kinder to the poor than the rich; for as it
thus makes the life after death more desirable, soit smoothes the passage thither. The
wretched have had a long familiarity with
every face of terror. The man of sorrows
lays himself quietly down with no possessions to regret, and but few ties to stop his
departure : he feels only nature's pang in
the final separation, and this is no way
greater than he has often fainted under
before; for, after a certain degree of pain,
every new breach that death opens in the
constitution, nature kindly covers with insensibility.
"Thus Providence has given the wretched two advantages over the happy in this
life, greater felicity in dying, and in heaven
all that superiority of pleasure which arises
from contrasted enjoyment. And this superiority, my friends, is no small advantage, and seems to be one of the pleasures

of thepoor man in theparable: for, though
he was already in heaven, and felt all the
raptures it could give, yet it was mention,
ed as an addition to his happiness, that he
once had been wretched, and now was
comforted; that he had known what is
was to be miserable, and now felt what it
was to be happy.
" Thus, my friends, you see religion
does what philosophy could never do: it
shows the equal dealings of Heaven to the
happy and the unhappy, and levels all human enjoyment to nearly the same standard. It gives to both rich and poor the
same happiness hereafter, and equal hopes
to aspire after it; butif the rich have the
advantage of enjoying pleasure here, the
poor have the endless satisfaction of knowingwhat it once was to be miserable, when
crowned with endless felicity hereafter;
and even though this should be called a
small advantage, yet being an eternal one,
it must make up by duration what the temporal happiness of the great may have exceeded by intenseness.
" These are therefore the consolations
which the wretched have peculiar to themselves, and in which they are above the
rest of mankind; in other respects they are
below them. They who would know the
miseries of the poor, must see life and endure it. To declaim on the temporal advantages they enjoy, is only repeating what
none either believe or practise. The men
who have the necessaries of life are not
poor, and they who want them must be
miserable. Yes, my friends, we must be
miserable. No vain efforts of a refined
imagination can soothe the wants of nature; can give elastic sweetness to the
damp vapours of a dungeon, or ease to the
throbbings of a woe-worn heart. Let the
philosopher, from his couch of softness,
tell us we can resist all these. Alas ! the
effort by which we resist them is still the
greatest pain! Death is slight, and any
man may sustain it; but torments are
dreadful, and these no man can endure.
" To us, then, my friends, the promises
of happiness in heaven should be peculiarly
dear; for if our reward be in this life
alone, we are then indeed of all men the
most miserable. When I look round these
gloomy walls, made to terrify, as well as to
confine us,-this light that only serves to
show the horrors of the place,-those
shackles that tyranny has imposed, or
crimes made necessary,-when I survey
these emaciated looks, and hear those
groans, O my friends, what a glorious ex.
change would heaven be for these. To fly
through regions unconfined as air, to bask
in the sunshine of eternal bliss, to carol
over endless hymns of praise, to have no
master to threaten or insult us, but the
form of Goodness himself for ever in our
eyes; when I think of these things, death
becomes the messenger of very glad tidings; when I think of these things, his
sharpest arrow becomes the staff of my
support; when I think of these things,
what is there in life worth having? when

VICAR

OF WAKEFIELD.

I think of these things, what is there that
should not be spurned away? Kings in
their palaces should groan for such advantages; but we, humbled as we are, should
yearn for them.
" And shall these things be ours? Ours
they will certainly be, if we but try for
them; and what is a comfort, we are shut
out from many temptations that would retard our pursuit. Only let us try for them,
and they will certainly be ours, and, what
is still a comfort, shortly too; for if we
look
back on a past life, it appears but a
very short span, and whatever we may
think of the rest of life, it will yet be found
of less duration; as we grow older, the
days seem to grow shorter, and our intimacy with time ever lessens the perception
of his stay. Then let us take comfort now;
for we shall soon be at our journey's end;
we shall soon lay down the heavy burden
laid by Heaven upon us; and though death,
the only friend of the wretched, for a little
while mocks the weary traveller with the
view, and like hishorizon, flies before
still
him, yet the time will certainly and shortly
come, when we shall cease from our toil;
when the luxurious great ones of the world
shall no more tread us to the earth: when
we shall think with pleasure on our sufferings
below ; when we shall be surrounded
with all our friends, or such as deserved
our friendship ; when our bliss
shall be unutterable, and still, to crown all, unending."

CHAP. XXX.
Ha pier prospectsbegin to appear. Let us
be inflezible,
andfortune atlast change
will
in our favour.
WHEN I had thus finished, and my audience was retired, the gaoler, who was one
of the most humane of his profession,
hoped I would not be displeased, as what
he did was but his duty, observing that he
must be obliged to remove my son into a
stronger cell, but that he should be permitted to revisit me every morning. I
thanked him for his clemency; and, grasping my boy's hand, bade him fagrewell, and
be mindful of the great duty that was be.
fore him.
I again, therefore, laid me down, and one
ofmy little ones sat by my bed-side reading,when Mr. Jenkinson entering, informed me that there was news of my
daughter, for that she was seen by a person, about two hours before, in a strange
gentleman's company, and that they had
stopped at a neighbouring village for refreshment, and seemed as if returning to
town. He had scarce delivered this news,
when the gaoler came, with looks of haste
and pleasure, to inform me that my daugh.
ter was found. Moses came running in a
moment after, crying out that his sister
Sophy was below, and coming up with our
old friend Mr. Burchell.

56

Just as he delivered this news, my dearest girl entered, and, with looks almost
wild with pleasure, ran to kiss me in a
transport of affection. Her mother's tears
and silence also showed her pleasure."Here, papa," cried the charming girl,
" here is the brave man to whom I owe my
delivery: to this gentleman's intrepidity I
am indebted for my happiness and safety."
A kiss from Mr. Burchell, whose pleasure
seemed even greater than hers, interrupted what she was going to add.
" Ah ! Mr. Burchell," cried I, "this is
but a wretched habitation you now find us
in; and we are now very different from
what you last saw us. You were ever our
friend; we have long discovered our errors
with regard to you; and repented of our
ingratitude. After the vile usage you then
received at my hands, I am almost ashamed to behold your face; yet I hope you'll
forgive me, as I was deceived by a base ungenerous wretch, who, under the mask of
friendship, has undone me."
" It is impossible," replied Mr. Burchell,
that I should forgive you, as you never
" deserved my resentment. I partly saw
your delusion then, and as it was out of my
power to restrain, I could only pity it!"
" It was ever my conjecture," cried I,
" that your mind was noble; but now I
find it so. But tell me, my dear child, how
bast thou been relieved, or who the ruffians
were who carried thee away ?"
" Indeed, Sir," replied she, " as to the
villain who carried me off, I am yet ignorant. For as my mamma and I were walking out, le came behind us, and almost before I could call for help, forced me into
the post-chaise, and in an instant the
horses drove away. I met several on the
road, to whom I cried out for assistance ;
but they disregarded my entreaties. In
the mean time, the ruffian himself used
every art to hinder me from crying out;
he flattered and threatened by turns, and
swore, that, if I continued but silent, he
intended no harm. In the mean time, I
had broken the canvass that he had drawn
up, and whom should I perceive at some
distance, but your old friend Mr. Burchell,
walking along with his usual swiftness,
with the great stick for which we used so
much to ridicule him. As soon as he came
within hearing, I called out to him by
name, and entreated his help. I repeated
my exclamations several times; upon
which, with a very loud voice, he bade the
postilion stop; but the boy took no notice,
but drove on with still greater speed. I now
thought he could never overtake us; when,
in less than a minute, I saw Mr. Burchell
come running up by the side of the horses,
and with one blow knock the postilion to the
ground. The horses, when hliewas fallen,
soon stopped of themselves; and the ruffian stepping out, with oaths and menaces,
drew his sword, and ordered him at his peril
to retire; but Mr. Burchell runningup shivered his sword to pieces, and then pursued
him for near a quarter of a mile; but he
time conom
made his escape. I was at this

VICAR OF WAKEFIELD.

out myself, willing to assist my deliverer ; inson,and fellow-prisoner, mightry request
a
be
but he soon returned to me in triumph. ted,
the gaoler granted
admit.

Thepostilion, whowas recovered, was going
to make his escape too; but Mr. Burchell
ordered him at his peril to mount again,
and drive back to town. Finding it impossible to resist, he reluctantly complied,
though the wound he had received seemed
to me at least to be dangerous. He continued to complain of the pain as we drove
along, so that he at last excited Mr. Burchell's compassion, who, at my request, exchanged him for another at an inn where
we called on our return."
" Welcome, then," cried I, " my child,
ahd thou her gallant deliverer, a thousand
welcomes.
Though our cheer is but
wretched, yet our hearts are ready to re.
ceive you. And now, Mr. Burchell, as
you have delivered my girl, if you think
her a recompence, she is yours; if you can
stoop to an alliance with a family so poor
as mine, take her, obtain her consent, as I
know you have her heart, and you have
mine. And let me tell you, Sir, that I give
you no small treasure; she has been celebrated for beauty, it is true, but that is not
my meaning, 1 give you up a treasure in
her mind."
"But I suppose, Sir," cried Mr. Burchell,
" that you are apprized of my circumstances, and my incapacity to support her as
she deserves."
" If your present objection," replied I,
" be meant as an evasion of my offer, I detist: but I know no man so worthy to deserve her as you; and if I could give her
thousands, and thousands sought her from
me, yet my honest brave Burchell should
be my dearest choice."
To all this his silence alone seemed to
give a mortifying refusal, and, without the
least reply to my offer, he demanded if we
could not be furnished with refreshments
from the next inn ? To which, being an,
swered in the affirmative, ordered them
he

to send in the best dinner that could be
provided upon such short notice. He bespoke also a dozen of their best wine, and
some cordials for
me, adding, with a smile,
that he would stretch a little for once, and,
though in a prison, asserted, he was never
better disposed to be merry. The waiter
soon made his appearance, with preparations for dinner; a table was lent us by the
gaoler, who seemed remarkably assiduous ;
thewine was disposed in order, and two
very well dressed dishes were brought in.
My daughter had not yet heard of her
poor brother's melancholy situation, and
we all seemed unwilling to damp her
cheerfulness by the relation. But it was
in vain that I attempted to appear cheerful; the circumstances of my unfortunate
son broke through all efforts to dissemble ;
so that I was at last obliged to damp our
mirth by relating his misfortunes, and
wishing that he might be permitted to
share with us in this little interval of satisfaction. After my guests were recovered
from the consternation my account had
produced, I requested also that Mr. Jenk-

with an air of unusual submission. Tihe
clanking of my son's irons was no sooner
heard along
the passage, than his sister ran
impatiently to meet him; while Mr. Burchell, in the mean time, asked
me if my
son's name was George, to which replying
in the affirmative, he still continued silent,
As soon as my boy entered the room, I
could perceive he regarded
Burchell
with a look of astonishment and reveresce.
" Come on," cried I, "my son : though
we are fallen very low, yet Providence has
been pleased to grant us some small relaxation from pain. Thy sister is restored to
us: and there is her deliverer: to that
brave man it is that I am indebted for yet
having a daughter; give him, my boy, the
hand of friendship; he deserves our warm.
est gratitude."
My son seemed all this while regardless
of what I said, and still continued fixed at
a respectful distance.-" My dear brother,"
cried his sister, " why don't you thank my
good deliverer; the brave should ever love
each other."
I-Ie continued his silence and astostill
nishment, till our guest at last perceived
himself to be known, and, assuming all
his
native dignity, desired my son to come
forward. Never before had I seen any
thing so truly majestic as the air he assumed upon this occasion. The greatest

Mir.

object in the universe,says a certainphi-

losopher., is a good man struggling with adversity; yet there is still a greater, which is
the good man that comes to relieve it. After
he had regarded my son for some time
with a superior air, " I again find,"
said
he, "unthinking boy, that the same crime"
-But here he was interrupted by one of
the gaoler's servants, who came to inform
us, that a person of distinction, who had
driven into town with a chariot and several attendants, sent his respects to the
gentleman that was with us, and begged to
know when he should think proper to be
waited upon. " Bid the fellow wait,"
cried our guest, " till I shall have leisure
to receive him;" and then turning to
my son, " I again find, Sir," proceeded
he, " that you are guilty of the same
offence for which you once had my reproof, and for which the law is now preparing its justest punishments. You im.agine, perhaps, that a contempt for your
own life gives you a right to take that of
another; but where, Sir, is the difference
between a duellist, who hazards a life of no
value, and the murderer, who acts with
greater security? Is it any diminution of
the gamester's fraud, when he alleges that
he has staked a counter ?"
" Alas, Sir," cried I, "whoever you are,
pity the poor misguided creature; for what
he has done was in obedience to a deluded
mother, who, in the bitterness of her resentment required him, upon her blessing,
to avenge her quarrel ! Here, Sir, is the
letter, which will serve to convince you
her imprudence, and diminish his
guilt."

of

VICAR OF WAKEFIELD.
He took the letter and hastily read it
over.-" This," says he, " though not a
perfect excuse, is such a palliation of his
fault as induces me to forgive him. And
now, Sir," continued he, kindly taking my
son by the hand, " I see you are surprised
at finding me here; but I have often visited prisons upon occasions less interesting. I am now come to see justice done a
worthy man, for whom I have the most
sincere esteem. I have long been a disguised spectator of thy father's benevoenlence. I have at his little dwelling
joyed respect uncontaminated by flattery,
and have received that happiness which
courts could not give, from the amusing
simplicity round his fire-side. My nephew
has been apprized of my intentions of coming here, and I find is arrived; it would
be wronging him and you to condemn him
without examination: if there be injury,
there shall be redress; and this I may say,
ewithout boasting, that none have ever
taxed the justice of Sir William Thornhill."
We now found the personage whom we
had so long entertained as a harmless amusing companion, was no other than the celebrated Sir William Thornhill, to whose virtues and singularities scarcely any were
strangers. The poor Mr. Burchell was in
reality aman of large fortune and great interest, to whom senates listened with applause,
and whom party heard with conviction ;
who was the friend of his country, but loyal
to his king. My poor wife, recollecting her
former familiarity, seemed to shrink with
apprehension; but Sophia, who a few moments before thought him her own, now
perceiving the immense distance to which
he was removed by fortune, was unable to
conceal her tears.
" Ah ! Sir," cried my wife, with a piteous aspect, " how is it possible that I can
ever have your forgiveness : the slights you
received from me the last time I had the
honour of seeing you at our house, and the
jokes which I audaciously threw out; these
jokes, Sir, I fear can never be forgiven."
" My dear good lady," returned he,
with a smile, "if you had your joke, I had
my answer; I'll leave it to all the company if mine were not as good as yours.
To say the truth, I know nobody, whom I
am disposed to be angry with at present,
but the fellow who so frightened my little
girl here. I had not even time examine
to
the rascal's person, soas to describe him in
an advertisement. Can you tell me, Sophia, my dear, whether you should know
him again."
" Indeed, Sir," replied she, " I can't be
positive; yet, now I recollect he had a
large mark over one of his eyebrows." " I
ask pardon, madam," interrupted Jenkinson, who was by, " but be so good as to inform me, if the fellow wore his own red
hair." " Yes, I think so," cried Sophia.
" And did your honour," continued he,
turning to Sir William, " observe the
length of his legs
" I can't be sure of
their length," cried the baronet, " but I
Smn convinced of their swiftnuss; for he

!"

57

outrun me, which is what I thought few
men in the kingdom could have done."
" Please your honour," cried Jenkinson
" Iknow the man, it is certainly the same ;
the best runner in England ; he has beaten
Pinwire of Newcastle ; Timothy Baxter is
his name; I know him perfectly, and the
very place of his retreat at this moment
If your honour will bid Mr. Gaoler let two
of his men go with me, I'll engage to produce him to you in an hour at farthest."
Upon this the gaoler was called, who instantly appearing, Sir William demanded
if he knew him ? " Yes, please your hon
our," replied the gaoler, " I know Sir
William Thornhill well; and every body
that knows any thing of him, will desire to
know more of him." " Well, then," said
the baronet, " my request is, that you will
permit this man and two of your servants
to go upon a message, by my authority;
and, as I am in the commission of the
peace, I undertake to secure you." "Your
promise is sufficient," replied the other,
" and you may, at a minute's warning,
send them over England whenever your
honour thinks fit."
In pursuance of the gaoler's compliance,
Jenkinson was despatched in search of
Timothy Baxter, while we were amused
with the assiduity of our youngest boy
Bill, who had just come in and climbed up
to Sir William's neck, in order to kiss him.
His mother was immediately going to chastise his familiarity; but the worthy man
prevented her; and taking the child, all
ragged as he was, upon his knee, " What
Bill, you chubby rogue," cried he, " do
you remember your old friend Burchell ?
and Dick too, my honest veteran, are you
here? you shall find I have not forgot
you." So saying, he gave each a large
piece of gingerbread, which the poor fellows eat very heartily, as they had got that
morning but a very scanty breakfast.
We now sat down to dinner, which was
almost cold ; but previously, my arm still
continuing painful, Sir William wrote a
prescription, for hliehad made the study of
physic his amusement, and was more than
moderately skilled in the profession : this
being sent to an apothecary who lived in
the place, my arm was dressed, and I found
almost instantaneous relief.
We were
waited vuon at dinner by the gaoler himself, wl7 was willing to do our guest all
the honour in his power. But before we
had well dined, another message was
brought from his nephew, desiring permission to appear, in order to vindicate his innocence and honour; with which request
the baronet complied, and desired Mr
Thornhill to be introduced.

CHAP. XXXI.
Former benevolence now repaid wiTh oer.
pected interest.
Ma. TromRNHLL made his appearance with
a smile, which he seldom wanted, and was

58

VICAR OF WAKEFIELD.

going to embrace his uncle, which the himself should dissuade me, which I know
other repulsed with an air of disdain. " No he will not, yet I will see public justice
fawning, Sir, at present," cried the baro- done, and he shall suffer for it."
" Thou monster," cried my wife, " hast
net, with a look of severity; " the only
way to my heart is by the road of honour; thou not had vengeance enough already
but here I only see complicated instances but must my poor boy feel thy cruelty. I
of falsehood, cowardice, and oppression. hope that good Sir William will protect us,
How is it, Sir, that this poor man, for for my son is as innocent as a child; I
whom I know you professed a friendship, am sure he is, and never did harm to
is used thus hardly ? His daughter vilely man."
" Madam," replied the good man, " your
seduced, as a recompence for his hospitality, and he himself thrown into a prison, wishes for his safety are not greater than
perhaps but for resenting the insult! His mine; but I am sorry to find his guilt too
son, too, whom you feared to face as a plain; and if my nephew persists"-But
the appearance of Mr. Jenkinson and the
man"" Is it possible, Sir," interrupted his ne- gaoler's two servants now called off our atphew, " that my uncle could object that tention, who entered, hauling in a tall man
as a crime, which his repeated instructions very genteelly dressed, and answering the
description already given of the ruffian
alone have persuaded me to avoid ?"
" Your rebuke," cried Sir William, " is who had carried off my daughter.just; you have acted in this instance pru- " Here," cried Jenkinson, pulling him in,
dently and well, though not quite as your " here we have him; and if ever there was
father would have done : my brother in- a candidate for Tyburn, this is one."
The moment Mr. Thornhill perceived
deed was the soul of honour; but thouyes, you have acted in this instance per- the prisoner, and Jenkinson who had him
fectly right, and it has my warmest appro. in custody, he seemed to shrink back with
terror. His face became pale with conscibation."
" And I hope," said his nephew, " that ous guilt, and he would have withdrawn;
the rest of my conduct will not be found but Jenkinson, who perceived the design,
to deserve censure. I appeared, Sir, with stopped him,-" What, squire," cried he,
"this gentleman's daughter, at some places " are you ashamed of your two old acof public amusement : thus, what was le- quaintances, Jenkinson and, Baxter : but
vity, scandal called by a harsher name, and this is the way that all great men forget
it was reported that I had debauched her. their friends, though I am resolved we will
I waited on her father in person, willing not forget you. Our prisoner, please your
to clear the thing to his satisfaction, and honour," continued he, turning to Sir
he received me only with insult and abuse. William, "has already confessed all. This
As for the rest, with regard to his being is the gentleman reported to be so dangerhere, my attorney and steward can best in. ously wounded; he declares, that it was
form you, as I commit the management of Mr. Thornhill who first put him upon this
business entirely to them. If he has con- affair; that he gave him the clothes he
tracted debts, and is unwilling or even un- now wears, to appear like a gentleman, and
able to pay them, it is their business to furnished him with the post-chaise. The
proceed in this manner, and I see no hard- plan was laid between them, that he should
ship or injustice of pursuing the most legal carry off the young lady to a place of safety, and that there he should threaten and
means of redress."
" If this," cried Sir William, " be as terrify her; but Mr. Thornhill was to come
you have stated it, there is nothing unpar- in, in the mean time, as if by accident, to
donable in your offence; and though your her rescue, and that they should fight a
conduct might have been more generous in while, and then he was to run off; by
not suffering this gentleman to be oppres- which Mr. Thornhill would have the betsed by subordinate tyranny, yet it has been ter opportunity of gaining her affections
himself, under the character of her defend
at least equitable."
" He cannot contradict a single particu- er."
Sir William remembered the coat to
lar," replied the squire; " I defy him to
do so; and several of my servants are have been worn by his nephew; and all
ready to attest what I say. Thus, Sir," the rest the prisoner himself confirmed by
continued he, finding that I was silent, for a more circumstantial account, concluding
in fact I could not contradict him, " thus, that Mr. Thornhill had often declared to
Sir, my own innocence is vindicated : but him that he was in love with both sisters
though, at your intreaty, I am ready to at the same time.
" Heaven!" cried Sir William, " what
forgive this gentleman every other offence,
yet his attempts to lessen me in your a viper have I been fostering in mybosom !
esteem, excite a resentment that I cannot and so fond of public justice too as he
govern; and this, too, at a time when his seemed to be. But he shall have it; se
son was actually preparing to take away cure him, Mr. Gaoler-yet hold, I fear
my life; this, I say, was such guilt that I there is not legal evidence to detain him."
Upon this, Mr. Thornhill, with the utam determined to let the law take its
course. I have here the challenge that most humility, entreated that two such
was sent me, and two witnesses to prove abandoned wretches might not be admitted
it; one of my servants has been wounded as evidences against him, but that his serdangerously; and even though my uncle vants should be examined.-" Your ser-

VICAR OF WAKEFIELD.

!"

replied Sir William, " wretch,
call them yours no longer: but come, let
us hear what those fellows have to say;
let his butler be called."
When the butler was introduced, he
soon perceived by his former master's
looks, that all his power was now over.
" Tell me," cried Sir William, sternly,
" have you ever seen your master, and
that fellow dressed up in his clothes, in
company together ?" " Yes, please your
honour," cried the butler, " a thousand
times: he was the man that always brought
" How," interrupted
him his ladies."young Mr. Thornhill, " this to my face ?"
-" Yes," replied the butler, " or to any
man's face. To tell you a truth, Mr.
Thornhill, I never either loved or liked you,
and I don't care if I tell you now a piece
of my mind." " Now, then," cried Jenkinson, " tell his honour whether you
know any thing of me."-" I can't say,"
replied the butler, " that I know much
good of you. The night that gentleman's
daughter was deluded to our house, you
were one of them." " So, then," cried
Sir William, " I find you have brought a
very fine witness to prove your innocence;
thou stain to humanity ! to associate with
such wretches!" " But," continuing his
examination, " you tell me, Mr. Butler,
that this was the person who brought him
" No,
this old gentleman's daughter."
please your honour," replied the butler,
he did not bring her, for the squire himself undertook that business ; but he
brought the priest that pretended to marry
them."-" It is but too true," cried Jenkinson, " I cannot deny it, that was the
employment assigned me, and I confess it
to my confusion."
" Good heavens!" exclaimed the baronet, " how every new discovery of his villany alarms me ! All his guilt is now too
plain; and I find his present prosecution
was dictated by tyranny, cowardice, and
revenge. At my request, Mr. Gaoler, set
this young officer, now your prisoner, free,
and trust to me for the consequences. I'll
make it my business to set this affair in a
proper light to my friend, the magistrate,
who has committed him. But where is the
unfortunate young lady herself ? let her
appear to confront this wretch; I long to
know by what arts he has seduced her.
Entreat her to come in. Where is she ?"
" Ah ! Sir," said I, " that question
stings me to the heart; I was once indeed
happy in a daughter, but her miseries"Another interruption here prevented me;
for who should make her appearance but
Miss Arabella Wilmot, who was next day
to have been married to Mr. Thornhill.
Nothing could equal her surprise at seeing
Sir William and his nephew here before
her; for her arrival was quite accidental.
It happened that she and the old gentleman her father were passing through the
town on their way to her aunt's, who had
insisted that her nuptials with Mr.
Thornhill should be consummated at her
house ; but stopping for refreshment, they
pants

59

put up at an inn at the other end of the
town. It was there, from the window,
that the young lady happened to observe
one of my little boys playing in the street,
and instantly sending a footman to bring
the child to her, she learnt from him soma
account of our misfortunes, but was still
kept ignorant of young Mr. Thornhill's
being the cause. Though her father made
several remonstrances on the impropriety
of going to a prison to visit us, yet they
were ineffectual: she desired the child to
conduct her, which he did; and it was
thus she surprised us at a juncture so unexpected.
Nor can I go on without a reflection on
those accidental meetings, which though
they happen every day, seldom excite our
surprise, but upon some extraordinary occasion. To what a fortuitous concurrence
do we not owe every pleasure and convenience of our lives. How many seeming
accidents must unite before we can be
clothed or fed. The peasant must be dis.
posed to labour, the shower must fall, the
wind fill the merchant's sail, or numbers
must want the usual supply.
We all continued silent for some moments, while my charming pupil, which
was the name I generally gave this young
lady, united in her looks compassion and
astonishment, which gave new finishings
to her beauty. " Indeed, my dear Mr.
Thornhill," cried she to the squire, who
she supposed was come here to succour, and
not to oppress us, " I take it a little unkindly that you should come here without
me, or never inform me of the situation of
a family so dear to us both : you know I
should take as much pleasure in contributing to the relief of my reverend old
master here, whom I shall ever esteem, as
you can. But I find that, like your uncle,
you take a pleasure in doing good in secret."
" He finds pleasure in doing good!" cried
Sir William, interrupting her. " No, my
dear, his pleasures are as base as he is.
You see in him, madam, as complete a
villain as ever disgraced humanity, - a
wretch, who, after having deluded this
poor man's daughter, after plotting against
the innocence of her sister, has thrown the
father into prison, and the eldest son into
fetters, because he had courage to face her
betrayer. And give me leave, madam, now
to congratulate you upon an escape fror
the embraces of such a monster."
" 0 goodness!" cried the lovely girl,
" how have I been deceived I Mr. Thornhill informed me for certain, that tis gentleman's eldest son, Captain Primrose, was
gone off to America with his new married
lady."
" My sweetest miss," cried my wife, "he
has told you nothing but falsehoods. My
son George never left the kingdom, nor
ever was married. Though you have forsaken him, he has always loved you too
well to think of any body else; and I have
heard him say, he would die a bachelor
for your sake." She then expatiated on

VICAR

60

OF WAKEFIELD.

the sincerity of her son's passion; she set fortune from me, which, I thank her fa.
his duel with Mr. 'torishill in a proper thei's assiduity, is pretty large. The ar
light; from tience she madid a rapid di- titles, and a tond fr her fortune, e
gression to the squire's debaurherics, sis sigied and safe in my possession. It was
pretended marriages, an d ended with a oer fortune, iot her person, that induced
me to wish for this match ; and
isost insulting picture of his cowardice,
" Good heaves !" cried Miss Wilmot, of the one, let sho wiii take the ether."
This wrs an alarming blow : Sir til
" how very near have I been to the brink
of ruin ! but hos great is my pleasure to liam was sensihle of the justness of hia
en
have escaped it !-si thousand falsesoods claims, for lie had hero instrumeital an
has this gentleman told me. le had at drawiing up the marriage articles hisself
last art enough to persuade me, that my Miss Wilmot, therefore, perceiving that icr
promise to the only man I esteened was fortune was irretivably lest, turniig to
no longer bindig, since he had been un- my son, she asked if the loss of fortn
faithful. By his falsehoods I was taught could lessen hee value to him. "Though
to detest one emually brave and generous." fortune," says sle, " is out of my power,
But by this time ny son sas freed from at least I have my hand to give."
the incumbraices of justice, as the person
" And that, madam," cried her real
supposed to be wouoded sas detected to be lover, " was indeed all that you ever oad
an imposter. Mr. Jenkenson also, who had to give, at least all that I ever thoughu
acted as his valec-de-chambre, had dressed worth the acceptaice. And I nes protest,
up his hair, and fursished im with what- my Arabella, by all that's happy, your sant
ever was necessary to make a genteel ap- of fortune thss moment increasce ny pleaHe nos tserefore entered, sure, as it serves to convince my sweet girl
pearance.
handsomely dressed in hia regimentals; of my sinceeity."
and, without vanity (for I am above it),
Mr. silmot nos entering, ie seemed
he appeared as handsome a fellowe as ever not a little pleased at the daiger his daughsore a miistary dress. As he eitered, he tee had just escaped, and readily consented
made Miss Wilmot a modest and distait to a dissolution of the natch. But
bos, for he was not as yet acquainted sith that her fortune, which sas secured to Mr.
the coange shich the eloquence of his iio- Thornhill by bond, sould
be given op,
ther had wrought in iis favour. But no nothing could exceed his disappointment.
decorums could restrain the impatience of He now saw that his money must all go to
his blushing mistress to be forgiven. Her enrich one sho had no fortune of Iis osm.
tears, her looks, all coitributed to discover He could bear his being a rascal: hut to
the real sensations of her heart, for having want an equisalent to his daughtes's forforgottenl her former promise, aid having tuie was sormwood. He sal, therefore,
suffered herself to be deluded by as im- for soue minutes employed is the most
poster. My so's appeared amazed at her mortifying sleculations, till ii
sillian
condescension, and could scarce believe it attempted to lessen his anxiety.
I mut
real.-" Sure, nadam," cried le, " this is confess, Sir," cried he, " that your present
but delusion! I cano never have merited disappointment does sot entirely displease
this ! To he blessed thus, is to be too hap- se. Your inmoderate passion for sealth
py." " No, Sir," replied sle, " I have is now justly punished. But, though She
been deceived, basely deceived, else no- young lady cansot he rich, she has still a
to comletece sufficient to give coent.
thing couild have ever made nr
Oiy proisei.
You knosw miy fsiendshiip, Here yous ire ass busiest yousng soldies, wiso
you have long knosen it; but forget what is swilinig to take her withoout fortune;
I have done, asid, as you once had my they have long loved each other : and for
warmest vexes of constasocy, you shall nose the friendshoip I hear his fathoer, my intehave them repeated; asodbe assured, that rest shall not be wanting in lis promotion.
if your Arabella cannot he yours, she shall Leave, then, that ambition sehich disapnever be anotler's."-" Aiod no other's poisots you, amod once admit that happifor
courts your acceptance."
you shall he," cried Sir William, " if 1 nss swhicho
have anoy influence with your father."
" Sir William," replied the old gentle
Thois bist seas
for my son man, " be assured I never yet forced her
Meses, seho immediately flew to the inn inclimnations, nor still I now. If sloe still
wvhere the old genitlemandi
was, to infissru coistinsues to love this young gentlemamn,
him of every circumstance that had hoap- let lor have him switliall my heart. Thsere
pened. But, in the meamntime, the squire is still, thank Heaven, some fortune left,
pserceivinsg that he was oio every side on- asodyour promise will make it something
done, moosfinding that no hopes were left more.
Only let my old friesod here,'
from flattery or dissimulation, concluded meaning me, " give me a promise of set.
that lois swisest wvayswould he to turn and tling six thousand pounds upon my girl,
face his pursuers-Thus, laying aside all if ever he should rouse to his fortune, and
shame, he appeared the
villain. I am ready this night to be the
to join
" I
then," cried he, " that I am to them together."
expect no justice here ; but I am resolved it
As it now remained with me to make the
shall he dour me. You shoall knowe, Sir," young couple happy, I readily gave a proturinig to Sir William, " I am no longer a mise of mnaking the settlement he required,
poor deipendant upon your favours ; I scorn which, to one who had sucholittle expectathem. Nothing can keep Miss Wilmot's Itions as I, was no great favour. WNe
had

possessed

finding

not

unjust

sufficienot

find,

open harfly

first

61

VICAR OF WAKEFIELD.
now, therefore, the satisfaction of seeing
them fly into each other's arms in a transport. After all my misfortunes," cried
my son George, " to be thus rewarded !
Sure this is more than I could ever have
presumed to hope for. To be possessed of
all that's good, and after such an interval of
pain ! my warmest wishes could never rise
so high !"-" Yes, my George," returned
his lovely bride, " now let the wretch take
my fortune; since you are happy without
it, so am I. O what an exchange have I
made, from the basest of men to the dearest, best! Let him enjoy our fortune, I
now can be happy even in indigence."
" And I promise you," cried the squire,
with a malicious grin, " that I shall be
very happy with what you despise."
" Hold, hold, Sir," cried Jenkinson, "there
are two words to that bargain. As for that
lady's fortune, Sir, you shall never touch a
single stiver of it. Pray, your honour,"
continued he to Sir William, "can the
squire have the lady's fortune if hebe mar.
ried to another ?" " How can you make
such a simpledemand ?" replied the baronet, " undoubtedly he cannot."-" I am
sorry for that," cried Jenkinson, " for as
this gentleman and I have been fellowold
sporters, I have a friendship for him. But
I must declare, well as I love him, that his
contract is not worth a tobacco-stopper, for
he is married already."-" You lie, like a
rascal," returned the squire, who seemed
roused by this insult, " I never was legally
married to any woman." " Indeed, begging your honour's pardon," replied the
other, "you were; and I hope you will
show a proper return of friendship to your
own honest Jenkinson, who brings you a
wife, and if the company restrain their curiosity a few minutes, they shall see her."
So saying, he went off
with his usual celerity, and left us all unable to form any probable conjecture as to his design. " Ay,
let him go," cried the squire, " whatever
else I may have done, I defy him there.
I am too old now to be frightened with
squibs."
"I am surprised," said the baronet,
"what the fellow can intend by this. Some
low piece of humour, I suppose!"-" Perhaps,
Sir," replied I, "he may have a more
serious meaning. For when we reflect on
the various schemes this gentleman has laid
to seduce innocence, perhaps some one
more artful than the rest has been found
able to deceive him. When we consider
what numbers he has ruined, how many
parents now feel
with anguish the infamy
and the contamination which he has
brought into their families, it would not
surprise me if some of themAmazenmenut! Do I see mylost daughter! Do I
bold her! it is, it is my life, my happiness.
I thought thee lost, my Olivia, yet still I
cold theeand still shalt thou live to
oless
me."-The warmest transports of the
fondest lover were not greater than mine,
when I saw him introduce my child, and
held my daughter in my arms, whose sispoke her raptures. " And art
lence only

thou returned to me, my darniu," cried I,
" to be my comfort in age?"- 'That she
is," cried Jenkinson, " and make much of
her, for she is your own honourable child,
and as honest a woman as any inthe whole
room, let the other be who she will. And
as for you, squire, as sure as you stand
there, this young lady is your lawful wedded wife. And, to convince you that I
speak nothing but truth, here is the license
by which you were married together." So
saying, he put the license into the baronet's
hands, who read it, and found it perfect in
now, gentlemen,"
every respect.-"
you are surprised at
continued he, "I find
all this ; but a few words will explain the
difficulty. That there squire of renown,
for whom I have a great friendship, but
that's between ourselves, has often employed me in doing odd little things for
him. Among the rest, he commissioned
me to procurehim a false license and a
this young
false priest, in order to deceive
lady. But, as I was very much his friend,
what did I do, but went and got a true license, and a true priest, and married them
both as fast as the cloth could make them.
Perhaps you'll think it was generosity that
made me do all this: But no. To my
shame I confess it, my only design was to
keep the license, and let the squire know
that I could prove it upon him whenever I
thought proper, and so make him come
down whenever I wanted money." A burst
of pleasure now seemed to fill the whole
apartment; our joy reached even to the
common room, where the prisoners themselves sympathized,

And

And shook their chains
In transport and rude harmony
Happiness was expanded upon every
face, and even Olivia's cheek seemed flushed with pleasure. To be thus restored to
reputation, to friends, and fortune at once,
was a rapture sufficient to stop the progress of decay, and restore former health
and vivacity. But, perhaps, among all,
there was not one who felt sincerer pleasure than I. Still holding the dear loved
child in my arms, I asked my heart if
these transports were not delusion. " How
could you," cried I, turning to Mr. Jen.
kinson, "how could you add to my miseries by thestory of her death ! But it matters not ; my pleasure at finding her again
is more than a recompense for the pain."
" As to your question," replied Jenkinson, " that is easily answered. I thought
the only probable means of freeing you
from prison was by submitting to the
squire, and consenting to his marriage with
the other young lady.But these you had
vowed never to grant while your daughter
was living; there was therefore no other
method to bring things to bear, but by per.
suading you that she was dead. I prevailed on your wife to join in the deceit, and
we have not had a fit opportunity of undeceiving you till now."
In the whole assembly, there now only

62

VICAR OF WAKEFIELD.

appeared two faces that did not glow with known," cried he again, " to refuse a man
transport. Mr. Thornhill's assurance had whom the family has such infinite obliga..
entirely forsaken him: he now saw the tions to, who has preserved your sister, and
gulf of infamy and want before him : and who has five hundred pounds! What! not
trembled to take the plunge. He there- have him ?"-" No Sir never," replied she
fore fell on his knees before his uncle, and, angrily, " I'd sooner diefirst." " If that
in a voice of piercing misery, implored be the case then," cried he, "if you will
compassion.
Sir William was going to not have him-I think I must have you
spurn him away, but, at my request, he myself." And so saying, he caught her to
raised him, and, after pausing a few mo- his breast with ardour. " My loveliest,
ments, " Thy vices, crimes, and ingrati- my most sensible of girls," cried he, " how
tude," cried he, "deserve no tenderness; could you ever think your own Burchell
yet thou shalt not be entirely forsaken; could deceive you, or that Sir William
a bare competence shall be supplied to sup- Thornhill could ever cease to admire a
port the wants of life, but not its follies. mistress that loved him for himself alone!
This young lady, thy wife, shall be put in I have for some years sought for a woman,
possession of a third part of that fortune who, a stranger to my fortune, could think
which once was thine; and from her ten- that I had merit as a man. After having
derness alone thou art to expect any ex- tried in vain, even among the pert and ug.
traordinary supplies for the future." HE ly, how great at last must be my rapture
was going to express his gratitude for such to have made a conquest over such sense
kindness in a set speech, but the baronet and such heavenly beauty!" Then, turnprevented him, by bidding him not aggra ing to Jenkinson,-As I cannot, Sir, part
vate his meanness, which was already but with this young lady myself, for she has
too apparent. He ordered him at the taken a fancy to the cut of my face, all the
same time to be gone, and from all his recompense I can make is to give you her
former domestics to choose one such as he 'ortune, and you may call upon my stew
should think proper, which was all that ard to-morrow for five hundred pounds."
should be granted to attend him.
Thus we had all our compliments to repeat,
As soon as he left us, Sir William very and Lady Thornhill underwent the same
politely stepped up to his new niece with a round of ceremony that her sister had
smite, and wished her joy. His example done before. In the mean time, Sir Wilwas followed by Miss Wilmot and her fa- liam's gentleman appeared to tell us that
ther; my wife, too, kissed her daughter the equipages were ready to carry us to the
with much affectin, as, to use her own ex- inn, where every thing was prepared for
pression, she was now made an honest wo- our reception. My wife and I led the van,
man of. Sophia and Moses followed in and left those gloomy mansions of sorrow.
turn ; and even our benefactor, Jenkinson, The generous baronet ordered fortypounds
desired to be admitted to that honour. Our to be distributed among the prisoners; and
satisfaction seemed scarcely capable of in. Mr. Wilmot, induced by his example, gave
crease. Sir William, whose greatest pleas- half that sum. We were received below
ure was in doing good, now looked round by the shouts of the villagers, and I saw
t
with a coun enance open as the sun, and and shook by the hand two or three of my
saw nothing but joy in the looks of all, ex- honest parishioners, who were among the
cept that of my daughter Sophia, who, fobr number. They attended us to our inn,
some reasons we could not com rehend, where a sumptuous entertainment was prodid not seem perfectly satisfied. ' I think vided, and coarser provision distributed in
now," cried he, with a smile, " that all the great quantities among the populace.
company, except one or two, seem perfectAfter supper, as my spirits were ex.
ly happy. There only remains an act of hausted by the alternation of pleasure and
justice for me to do. You are sensible, pain which they had sustained during the
Sir," continued he, turning to me, "of the day, I asked permission to withdraw : and,
obligations we both owe Mr. Jenkinson for leaving the company in the midst of their
his late assiduity in detecting a scoundrel. mirth, as soon as I found myself alone, I
It is but just we should both reward him poured out my heart in gratitude to the
for it. Miss Sophia will, I am sure, make Giver of joy as well as sorrow, and slept
him very happy; and he shall have from undisturbed till morning.
me five hundred pounds as her fortune,
and upon this I am sure they can live very
comfortably together. Come, Miss Sophia,
what say you to this match of my making?
CHAP. XXXII.
Will you have him ?"-My poor girl seemed almost sinking into her mother's arms
The Conclusion.
at the hideous proposal. "Have him,
Sir !" cried she faintly, "No, Sir, never." THE next morning, as soon as I awaked, 1
-" What," cried he again, "not have Mr. found my eldest son sitting by my bed-side,
Jenkinson, your benefactor, a handsome who came to increase my joy with another
young fellow, with five hundred pounds turn of fortune in my favour. First, hay.
and good expectations ?"-" I beg, Sir," ing released me from the settlement that I
returned she, scarce able to speak, "that had made the day before in his favour, he
you'll desist, and not make me so very let me know that my merchant, who had
wretched."-" Was ever such obstinacy failed in town, was arrested at Antwerp.

i

VICAR OF WAKEFIELD.

63

and there had given up effects to a much of my parishioners, hearing of my success,
greater amount than what was due to his came to congratulate me; but among the
creditors. My boy's generosity pleased me rest were those who rose to rescue me;
almost as much as this unlooked for good and whom I formerly rebuked with such
fortune. But I had some doubts whether sharpness. I told the story to Sir William,
I ought in justice to accept his offer. While my son-in-law, who went out and reproved
I was pondering upon this, Sir William them with great severity ; but finding
entered the room, to whom I communi- them quite disheartened by his harsh recated my doubts. His opinion was, that, proof he gave them half a guinea a piece to
as my son was already possessed of a very drink his health, and raise their dejected
affluent fortune by his marriage, I might spirits.
accept his offer without any hesitation.
Soon after this we were called to a very
His business, however, was to inform me, genteel entertainment, which was dressed
that as he had the night before sent for
the by Mr. Thornhill's cook. And it may not
licenses, and expected them every hour, he be improper to observe, with respect to
hoped that I would not refuse my assist- Mr. Thornhill, that he now resides in
ance in making all the company happy that quality of companion at a relation's house,
morning. A footman entered while we being very well liked, and seldom sitting
were speaking, to tell us that the mes- at the side-table, except when there is no
senger was returned; and as I was by room at the other ; for they make no
this time ready, I went down, where I stranger of him.-His time is pretty much
found the whole company as merry as af- taken up in keeping his relation, who is a
fluence and innocence could make them. little melancholy, in spirits, and in learnHowever, as they were now preparing for ing to blow the French horn. My eldest
a very solemn ceremony, their laughter daughter, however, still remembers him
entirely displeased me. I told them of the with regret; and she has even told me,
grave, becoming, and sublime deportment (though I make a great secret of it,) that
they should assume upon this mystical oc- when he reforms, she may be brought to
casion, and read them two homilies and a relent. But to return, for I am apt to dithesis of my own composing, in order to gress thus, when we were to sit down to
prepare them, yet they still seemed per- dinner, our ceremonies were going to be
fectly refractory and ungovernable. Even renewed. The question was, whether my
as we were going along to church, to which eldest daughter, as being a matron, should
I led the way, all gravity had quite for- not sit above the two young brides ? But
saken them, and I was often tempted to the debate was cut short by my son George,
turn back in indignation. In church a who proposed that the company should sit
new dilemma arose, which promised no indiscriminately, every gentleman by his
easy solution. This was, which couple lady. This was received with great approbashould be married first: my son's bride tion by all, excepting my wife, who, I could
warmly insisted that Lady Thornhill (that perceive, was not perfectly satisfied, as she
was to be) should take the lead; but this expected to havehad thepleasure of sitting
the other refused with equal ardour, pro- at the head of the table, and carving the meat
testing she would not be guilty of such for all the company. But, notwithstanding
rudeness for the world. The argument this, it is impossible to describe our good
was supported for some time between both humour. I can't say whether we had
with equal obstinacy and good breeding. more wit amongst us now than usual ; but
But as I stood all this time with my book I am certain we had more laughing, which
ready, I was at last quite tired of the con- answered the end as well. One jest I partest and, shutting it,-" I perceive," cried ticularly remember :-Old Mr. Wilmot
I, that none of you have a mind to be drinking to Moses, whose head was turned
married; and I think we had as good go another way, my son replied,-" madam, I
back again, for I suppose there will be no thank you." Upon which the old gentlebusiness done here to-day." This at once man, winking upon the rest of the comreduced them to reason. The baronet and pany, observed, that he was thinking of his
his lady were first married, and then my mistress. At which jest I thought the two
son and his lovely partner.
Misses Flamborough would have died with
I had previously that morning givenor- laughing. As soon as dinner was over,
ders, that a coach should be sent for my according to my old custom, I requested
honest neighbour Flamborough and his fa- that the table might be taken away, to
mily; by which means, upon our return to have the pleasure of seeing all my family
the inn, we had the pleasure of finding the assembled once more by a cheerful firetwo Misses Flamborough alighted before side. My two little ones sat upon each
us. Mr. Jenkinson gave his hand to the knee, the rest of the company by their
eldest, and my son Moses led up the other ; partners. I had nothing now on this side
and I have since found that he has taken of the grave to wish for; all my cares were
a real liking to the girl, and my consent over; my pleasure was unspeakable. It
and bounty he shall have, whenever he now only remained that my gratitude in
thinks proper to demand them.) We were good fortune should exceed my former
no sooner returned to the inn,but numbers submission
adversity.

An

IELIZABETH;
OR,

THE EXILES OF SIBERIA.
a ae
FOUNDED ON FACTS.

FROM THE FRENCH OF MADAME

HI

CGOTTI*

PREFACE.

TIHE incident which gave rise to this his.
tory is founded upon truth. No imagination, however fertile, could produce actions
so heroic, or sentiments so noble and elevated.---The heart alone could inspire
them.
The daughter who conceived the glorious
design of delivering her parents from exile,
and who carried this design into execution,
in spite of the various and almost insurmountable obstacles which opposed her, is
not the child of Fiction, but of Nature.
She really existed; nay, does still exist: and
should my tale possess any of the powers of
attraction, it will be from this source principally they will be derived.
Authors have been frequently accusedof
representing the beauties of virtue with too
bold a pencil, and in colours too vivid. Far
am I,however, from presuming to insinuate,
that this criticism is applicable to myself,
who possess not the abilities requisite to attain this brilliant though creative talent;
nor do I conceive that it is in the power of
the most eloquent author, by all the studied
embellishments and decorations of language, to add a single charm to the innate
beauties of Virtue; on the contrary, she is
in herself so far superior to the adscititious
aids of brnament, that it would appear ra-

ther impossible to describe her in all her
native dignity and loveliness. This is the
chief difficulty I have experienced in writing Elizabeth.
The real heroine is far superior to mine,
and has gone through more perils.-By bestowing a guide upon Elizabeth, and in terminating her journey at Moscow, I have
considerably diminished her fatigue and
danger, and consequently her merit. But
there are many who are not sufficiently
sensible how paramount is the duty to parents, and therefore know not to what extent this duty will instigate a child, at once
affectionate and enterprising, when achieving the service and preservation of a beloved parent :-to such-had I related the
whole truth, my tale inight have borne the
appearance of exaggeration, or improbability; and to them a recital of long fatigues,
though unable to exhaust the courage and
perseverance of a heroine of eighteen,
might yet appear tedious and uninteresting.
The scene of the principal anecdote of
this story is removed as far as Siberia; yet,
I must add, that it was unnecessary for me
to extend my researches to so distant a region; since every country affords traits of
filial piety, and of mothers animated with
the glow of parental tenderness.

ELIZABETH;
OR:

THE EXILES OF SIBERIA.

ON the banks of the Irtish, which rises in north winds which blow during that period
Calmuck Tartary, and falls into the Ony, are so incessant, and render the cold so
is situated Tobolsk, the capital of Siberia; piercing, that even in September the Tobol
bounded on the north by forests of eleven is paved with ice; a heavy snow fails uphundred versts in length, extending to on the earth, and disappears not before the
the borders of the Frozen Ocean, and end of May; but from the time that it beinterspersed with rocky mountains, covered gins to dissolve, the celerity with which the
with perpetual snows ; around it are trees shoot forth their leaves, and the fields
sterile plains, whose frozen sands have display their verdure, is almost incredible;
seldom received an impression from the ;three days is the short period that nature
human foot, and numerous frigid lakes, requires to bring her plants to maturity.
or rather stagnant marshes, whose icy 'The blossoms of the birch-tree exhale an
streams never watered a meadow, nor odoriferous scent, and the wild-flowers of
opened to the sun-beam the beauties of a the field decorate the ground; flocks of vaflower. On approaching nearer to the rious kinds of fowl play upon the surface
pole, these stately productions of nature, of the lakes; the white crane plunges
whose sheltering foliage are so grateful to among the rushes of the solitary marsh to
the weary traveller, totally disappear : build her nest, which she plaits with reeds,
brambles, dwarf birches, and shrubs alone whilst the flying squirrels in thewoods, cutornament this desolate spot; but even ting the air with their bushy tails, hop
these, farther on, vanish, leaving nothing from tree to tree, and nibble the buds of
but swamps covered with a useless moss, the pines, and the tender leaves of the
and present, as it were, the last efforts of birch. Thus the natives of these dreary
expiring nature. But still, amidst the hor- regions experience a season of pleasure;
ror and gloom of an eternal winter, Na- but the unhappy exiles who inhabit itture displays some of her grandest specta. alas ! none.
Of these miserable beings the greater part
cles-the aurora borealis, inclosing the horizon like a resplendent arch, emits columns reside in the villages situated on the boherof quivering light, and frequently offers to ders of the river, between Tobolsk and the
view, sights which are unknown in a more extremest boundary of Ischim ; others are
southern hemisphere. South of Tobolsk is dispersed in cottages about the country.
the province called Ischim: plains strewed The government provides for some; but
with the repositories of the dead, and di- many are abandoned to the scanty subsisvided by lakes of stagnant and unwhole- tence they can procure from the chase dursome water, separate it from the Kerquis, ing the winter season, and all are objects of
an idolatrous and wandering people, It is general commiseration. Indeed the name
bounded on the left by the river Irtish, and they give the exiles seems to have been dicon the right by the Tobol, the naked and tated by the tenderest sympathy, as well as
barren banks of which present to the eye a strong conviction of their innocence ;
fragments of rocks promiscuously heaped they call them "Unfortunates."
A few versts from Saimka, in the centre
together, with here and there a solitary firtree rearing its head; beneath them, in a of a marshy forest, upon the border of a
space formed by an angle of the river, is deep circular lake, surrounded with black
the small village of Saimka, about six hun- poplars, resided one of these banished fadired versts from Tobolsk; situated in the milies, consisting of three persons-a man
farthest extremity of the circle, in the about five-and-forty, his wife, and a beaumidst of a desert, its environs are as gloomy tiful daughter in the bloom of youth.
Secluded in the desert, this little family
as the sombre light which illuminates their
hemisphere, and as dreary as the climate. were strangers to the intercourse with society; the father went alone to the chase;
The province of Ischim is nevertheless
entitled the Italy of Siberia; since it en- but neither had he, his wife, or daughter
joys nearly four months of summer, though been ever seen at Saimka, and, except one
the winter is rigorous to an excess. The poor Tartar peasant, who waited on them,

6

ELIZABETH;

OR,

no human being entered their dwelling. the ashes ofthe dead. In these plains, or
The governor of Tobolsk only, was inform- steppes (the name they bear in Siberia),
ed of their birth, their country, and the Peter Springer, (uring the long and secause of their banishment; the secret he vere winter of the northern climate, spent
had not even confided to the lieutenant of his days in hunting : he killed elks which
his jurisdiction, who was established at feed on the leaves of the willow and poplar;
Saimka. In committing these exiles to his sometimes he caught sables, but more frecare, he had merely given orders that they quently ermines, which are verynumerous
might be provided with a comfortable lodg- in that spot; with the price he obtained
ing, a garden, food, and raiment, accom- for their fur he procured from Tobolsk
panied with a positive charge to restrict different articles which greatly contributed
them from all communication with any to the comfort of his wife, and the educaone, and particularly to intercept any letter tion of his daughter.
The long winter
they might attempt to convey to the court evenings were devotedto the instruction or
of Russia.
the young Elizabeth; who, seated between
So much consideration, such mystery, her parents, would read aloudsomepassage
and strict precaution, excited a suspicion of history, while Springer directed her atthat, under the simple name of Peter tention to those parts which could elevate
Springer, the father of this family conceal- and expand her mind, and Phedora, her
ed one more illustrious, and misfortunes of mother, to all that could make it tender
no common nature; the effect, perhaps, of and compassionate; one pointed out toher
some great crime, or possibly a victim the beauties of heroism and glory, the
to the hatred and injustice of the Russian other all the charms of piety and benevoministers.
lence; her father
reminded her of the digBut every endeavour to discover the nity and sublimity of virtue, her mother of
truth of these conjectures having proved the support and consolation it affords; the
ineffectual, curiosity was soon extinguish- first taught how highly to revere, the lated, and all interest in the fate of the new ter how carefully to cherish it. From these
exiles died with it; indeed they were so united instructions, Elizabeth acquired a
seldom seen, that they were soon forgotten ; disposition at once heroic and gentle, unit.
and if, in pursuit of the chase, some strag- ing the courage and energy of the father,
gling sportsman rambled towards the lake to the angelic mildness of the mother; at
of the forest, and inquired the name of the once ardent and enterprising as the exalted
inhabitants of the hut upon its border, the ideas of honour could render her, docile
only answer to be obtained was, that ' they and submissive as the blindest votary of
were unfortunate exiles ;" and on quitting love.
the spot, a secret prayer that the Almighty
But as soon as the snow began to yield to
might one day restore them to their coun- the power of the sun, and a slight shade of
try, was the tribute of compassion gene- verdure appeared upon the earth, the
rally bestowed.
whole family was busily engaged in the
Peter Springer had built their little cot- culture of their garden ; Springer turned
tage himself; it was of the wood of fir- up the earth, while Elizabeth sowed the
trees, thatched with straw; detached mas- seeds prepared by the industrious hand of
ses of rocks defended it from the sweeping Phedora. Their little enclosure was sur.
blasts of the north wind, and from the in- rounded by plantations of alder, of white
undations of the lake. These rocks,formed cornel, and a species of birch much esteem.
of a soft peeling granite, in their exfolia. ed in Siberia, its blossom being the only
tion reflecting the rays of the sun; mush- one that affords a fragrant smell. On the
rooms sprung from their crevices, some of southern side of this plantation Springer
a pale pink, others of a saffron colour, or had built a sort of hot-house, in which he
of a greyish blue, like those of the lake Bai- cultivated, with the greatest assiduity and
kal, announced the earliest days of spring; care, various flowers unknown in that cli.
and in those cavities, where hurricanes had mate; when they were in full bloom, he
scattered loose earth, pines and service- would gather them, and pressing them to
trees buried their roots, and raised their his lips, ornament the brow of his daughtender foliage.
ter, saying, "Elizabeth, adorn yourself
On the southern side of the lake, the with the flowers of your native country,
forest consisted only of underwood, thinly their fate resembles yours; like you they
scattered, and leaving open to view the un- flourish in a foreign land. Oh ! may your
cultivated plains beyond, covered with end be more fortunate than theirs !"
ourying-places and monuments of the dead :
Except during these moments of emomany had been pillaged, and the bones tion, he was calm and silent upon the sub.strewed upon the earth; the only remains ject of his misfortunes. For hours together
of a nation that had been consigned to eter- he would remain absorbed in the deepest
nal oblivion, had not the gold and jewels, thought, his eyes fixed upon the same ohb.
buried with its people in the bowels of the ject, seated in the same spot. The caresses
earth, revealed to avarice its existence,
of his wife, and more esp:cially those of his
To the east of this extensive plain a little daughter, at these times seemed rather to
wooden chapel had been erected by thepri- increase than alleviate his misery. He
mitive Christians; on that side the tombs would sometimes take her in his arms, and
had been respected; underthe cross which pressing her to his bos-m, exclaim, pre.
adorned it, (the honoured memorial of senting her to her mother, "Take her,
every virtue,) no one had'dared to profane Phedora! take our child! her fate and

THE EXILES OF SIBERIA.

1

yours rend my heart! Ah! why did you discovered beauties which nature bestows
follow me ? Had you abandoned me to even upon those inhospitable climes; and
my own sufferings, had you not insisted innocence finding pleasure every where,
climbing the rocks
upon partaking of them, it seems to she amused herself with
me that even in this desert, I could have which bordered the lake, in search of the
been content, knowing you and my child eggs of hawks and white vultures, who
were living happy and respected in our build their nests there during summer.
native land !" The gentle Phedora seldom ! Sometimes she caught wood-pigeons to fill
answered him but with tears; her looks, a little aviary, and at others angled for the
her words, her actions, all bore testimony corrasines, which move in shoals, whose
to the tender and sincere affection by which purple shells, lying against one another,
she was attached to her husband. Separ- appear through the water like a sheet of
ated from him, she could have known no fire covered with liquid silver. It never
happiness; nor did she regret so forcibly occurred,to the happy days of her childtheir exile from their country, or their fall hood, that there could be a lot more fortu.
from grandeur, when she reflected, that nate than her own. Her health was eshigh dignities, places of trust and danger, tablished by the keen air she breathed;
might have detained him at a distance from and exercise in her light figure united agiher; in exile, he never quitted her ; and lity and strength; while her countenance,
therefore she could have almost rejoiced in beaming with innocence and peace, each
Siberia, but for the grief she endured at day seemed to disclose some new charm.
seeing the affliction with which his soul Thus, far removed from the busy world
and mankind, did this lovely girl improve
was rent.
Although Phedora had passed the first in beauty-for the eyes only of her parents,
season of youth, she was still beautiful; to charm no heart but theirs; like the
devoted to her Creator, her husband, and flower of the desert, which blooms before
her child, time was unable to efface the the sun, and arrays itself in not less brilcolours, because it is destined to shine
charms that innocence and virtue had im- liant
printed on her countenance. She seemed only in the presence of that luminary to
to have been created for love in its greatest which it is indebted for its existence.
The most fervent affections are those
purity : and if such were her destiny, it
had been fulfilled. Attentive to all the which are least divided : thus Elizabeth,
wishes of her husband, she watched his who knew no one besides her parents,
looks to discover what could contribute to (consequently could love none but them,)
his comfort or pleasure that she might an- loved them with a fervour that scarcely
ticipate his wish before he had expressed admitted of comparison: they were the
it. She prepared their recasts herself. Or- protectors of her childhood, the partakers
der, neatness, and comfott, was the charac. of her amusements, her only society; she
teristic of their little abode; the largest knewnothing but what they had taught her;
apartment served as a sleeping-room for to them was she indebted for her talents,
herself and Springer; it was warmed by a her knowledge, her studies, her recreations,
stove; the walls were decorated with the and every thing; and feeling that without
drawings and work of Phedora and her them she coula do nothing, enjoy nothing,
daughter, and the windows were glazed-a she delighted in a dependance that was felt
luxury seldom to be met with in this coun- only through the medium of the benefits
try, and for which they were indebted to resulting from it. When reason and re.
the profit Springer derived from the chase. flection, however, succeeded to the care
Two small rooms completed their habita- lessness of childhood, Elizabeth otserved
tion : one was occupied by Elizabeth : in the tears of her mother, and perceived that
the other, where the garden and kitchen her father was unhappy. She often pressed
utensils were kept, slept the Tartarian pea- them to be told the cause, but could obtain
no other answer than that they regretted
sant, their only attendant.
Their days were spent in superintending at being such a distance from their court
dlomestic concerns: in making different try; but with the name of that country,
articles of clothing out of the skins of the or the rank they held in it, they had never
rein deer, which they dyed with a prepara- trusted her, fearing toexcite a vain regret
tion from the bark of the birch, and lined by informing her of the elevated rank from
with thick furs; but when Sunday arrived, which they had been precipitated into
Phedora secretly lamented that she was banishment. From the time that Elizabeth
deprived from attending divine service, discovered the affliction of her parents, her
and spent great part of the day in pray- thoughts no longer flowed in the same
er. Prostrate before the God of all con- channel, and the whole tenor of her life
solation, she invoked him in behalf of became altered. The innocent amuse
the objects of her tenderness; and if her ments she had so much enjoyed, lost all
piety daily increased, one of the principal their attractions : her birds were neglected,
causes was, that her ideas and r er expres- and her flowers were forgotten : when she
sions
became more eloquent, and better went down to the lake, it was no longer to
adapted to bestow that consolation her cast the bait, or to navigate her little canoe,
husband so much required, in proportion but to meditate profoundly upon a scheme
as her soul became elevated by devotion,
which had become the sole occupation of
The young Elizabeth, who knew no other her mind. Sometimes seated upon a procountry than the desolate one which she jecting rock, her eyes fixed upon the wahad.inhabited from the age of four years, ters of the lake, she reflected upon the

F

ELIZABETH; OR,

griefs of her parents, and on the means of
alleviating them. They wept for their
country; Elizabeth knew not where this
country was situated, but that they were
unhappy out of it was sufficient; all her
thoughts were directed to devise some plan
for restoring them to it. She would then
raise her eyes to heaven to implore that assistance she could alone expect from
thence, and would remain buried in a
reverie so profound, that the snow, falling
in large flakes, and driven with violence
against her by the wind, could not disturb
it : but if her parents called, in an instant
she would descend from the tops of the
rocks, to receive the lessons of her father,
or to assist her mother in her domestic avocations. But with them, or alone, whether
engaged in reading, or occupied with her
needle, one idea only pursued her, one project held constant possession of her mind ;
this project she kept profoundly secret, resolved not to mention it till the moment of
her departure should arrive.
Yes: she resolved to tear herself from
the embraces of her parents-to proceed
alone, on foot, to Petersburgh, and to implore pardon of the emperor for her father :
such was the bold design which had presented itself to her imagination, such was
the daring enterprise; the dangers of which
could not daunt the heroic courage of a
young and timid female. She beheld in
their strongest light many of the impediments she must surmount; but her confidence in the Creator, and the ardour of her
wishes, encouraged her : and she felt convinced that she could overcome them all.
As her scheme, however, began to unfold
itself, and she reflected upon the means of
carrying it into execution, her ignorance
could not fail to alarm her: she had never
passed the boundaries of the forest she in.
habited; how then was she to find her way
to Petersburgh ? how could she travel
through countries inhabited by people who
spoke a language unknown to her ? She
must subsist upon charity: to submit to
this, she recalled to her aid those precepts
of humility her mother had so carefully inculcated ; but her father had so often
spoken of the inflexibility of mankind, that
she dreaded being reduced to implore their
compassion. Elizabeth was too well acquainted with the tenderness of her parents
to indulge the hope that they would facilitate her journey. it was not to them she
could in this instance have recourse. To
whom then could she apply in a desert
where she lived, secluded from the rest of
the world ? to whom address herself in a
dwelling, the entrance to which was forbidden to every human being ? Still she did
not despair: the remembrance of an accident, to which her father had nearly fallen
a victim, had engraven upon her mind the
conviction, that there is no place so desolate, in which Providence cannot hear the
prayers of the unfortunate, and afford to
them assistance.
Some years before, Springer had been delivered from imminent peril, upon one of
the high rocks which form a boundary to

the Tobol, by the intrepidity of a young
stranger. This brave youth was the son
of M. de Smoloff, the governor of Tobolsk;
he came every winter to the plains of Ischim to hunt elks and sables, and sometimes bears, which are frequently seen in
the environs of Saimka. In this dangerous
chase he had met Springer, and was the
means of saving his life. From that period
the name of Smoloffhad never been men.
tioned in the abode of the exiles but with
reverence and gratitude; Elizabeth and
her mother felt the most lively regret at not
knowing their benefactor, that they might
offer him their acknowledgments and benedictions; to heaven they daily offered
them for him; and indulged the hope, at
each return of the hunting season, that
chance might lead him to their hut: but
they expected in vain ; its entrance had
been forbidden to him, as well as to every
one else; and he lamented not the restriction, as he was yet ignorant of the treasure
this humble habitation enclosed.
Nevertheless, since Elizabeth had been
thoroughly convinced of the difficulty of
leaving the desert without some human
aid, her thoughts had frequently rested
upon young Smoloff. Such a protector
would have dissipated all her terrors, and
might have vanquished all the obstacles
that opposed her design; who was better
calculated than he to give all the information she required respecting her journey
from Saimka to Petersburgh ? to instruct
her in what method to get her petition delivered to the emperor? and should her flight
irritate the governor, who was better cal.
culated than a son to soften his resentment,
move his compassion, and save her parents
from being made responsible for her transgression ?
Thus did she reflect on all the advanta.
ges which were likely to result from such a
support ; and as winter drew near, she resolved not to let the hunting season pass
away, without taking some steps to inform
herself whether young Smoloff was in the
country; and if so, of seeking an opportunity to speak to him.
Springer had been so much affected by
the terror of his wife and daughter at the
mere recital of the danger he had incurred,
that he promised never again to engage in
the bear-hunt, nor to extend his walks beyond the plain, but in pursuit of squirrels
or ermines. Notwithstanding this promise,
Phedora could not see him depart for a distance without terror; and she continued
till his return in a state of agitation and
anxiety, as if his absence was thepresage of
some calamity.
A heavy fall of snow, congealed into a
solid mass by an intense frost, had completely covered the surface of the earth,
when, on a fine morning in the month of
December, Springer took his gun, and prepared for the chase. Before his departure
he embraced his wife and daughter, and
promised to return before the close of day:
but the hour had passed, night approached, and Springer arrived not. Since the
adventure which threatened hi3 life, this

THE EXILES OF SIBERIA.
was the first time he had failed in the
strictest punctuality, and the terror of Phedora was indescribable. Elizabeth, while
she partook of it, sought every means to
tranquillize her; she would have flown to
seek and succour her father, but she had
notresolution to leave her mother in the
agony in which she beheld her.
At length, however, the delicate and timid Phedora, who had never ventured beyond the banks of the lake, roused to exertion by the violence of her agitation,
resolved to accompany her daughter ;
and could she
her husband, to incur
any danger in offering him assistance.
They proceeded together through the underwood of the forest towards the plain ;
the cold was severe in the extreme ; the
firs appeared like trees of ice, their branch,a
being hid under a thick covering of hoar
frost; a mist obscured the horizon ; night's
near approach gave to each object a still
gloomier shade; and the ground, smooth
as glass, refused to support the steps of the
trembling Phedora. Elizabeth, reared in
this climate, and accustomed to brave the
extremest severity of the weather, assisted
hermother, and led her on. Thus a tree
transplanted from its native soil languishes
in a foreign land, while the young sapling
that springs from its root, habituated to the
new climate, acquires strength, flourishes,
and in a few years sustains the branches of
the trunk that nourished it, protecting by
its friendly shade the tree to which it is indebted for
existence. Before
Phedora had
reached the plain, her strength totally failed: " Rest here, my dear mother," said
Elizabeth, "and let me go alone to the
edge of the forest : if we stay longer, the
darkness of the night will prevent me from
distinguishing my father in the plain."
Phedora supported herself against a tree,
while her daughter hastened forward, and
in a few seconds reached the plain: some
of the monuments with which it is interspersed are very high; Elizabeth climbed
upon the most elevated; her heart full of
grief, and her eyes dim with tears, gazed
around in vain for her father; but all was
still and lonely: the obscurity of night began to render the search useless : terror
almost suspended her faculties, when the
report of a gun revived her hopes. She
had never heard this sound but from the
hand of her father, and to her it appeared
a certain sign that he was near; she rushed towards the spot from whence the noise
proceeded, and behind a pile of rocks discovered a man in a bending posture, apparently seeking something on the ground.
"My father ! my father ! is it you ?" she
exclaimed. He turned hastily; it was not
Springer; his countenance was youthful,
and his air noble; at the sight of Elizabeth
he stood amazed. " Oh ! it is not my father," resumed she with anguish; " but
perhaps you may have seen him on the
plain? Oh ! can you tell me where to find
him ?"-" I know nothing of your father,"
answered the stranger; " but surely you
ought not to be here alone at this unseasonable hour; you run great hazard, and

find

should not venture."-" Oh !" interrupted
she, " I fear nothing but losing my father."
As she spoke, she raised her eyes
to heaven: their expression revealed at
once firmness in affliction, dignity united
with softness; they expressed the feelings
of her soul, and seemed to foretell her fu.
ture destiny. The stranger had never seen
a person, nor had his imagination ever
painted a vision, like Elizabeth : he almost
believed himself in a dream. When the
first emotion of surprise had subsided, he
inquired the name of her father. " Peter
Springer," she replied-" How !" he exclaimed, "you are the daughter of the exile residing in a cottage on the lake side !
Be comforted, I have seen your father ;
it is not an hour since he left me; he was
to make a circuit, and must be at home
ere this."
Elizabeth listened no longer, but flew towards the spot where she had left her mother, on whom she called with the voice of
joy, that the sound might re-animate her
before she could explain the cause; but
Phedora was gone. The terrified Elizabeth
made the forest resound with the names of
her parents : a well-known voice answered
her from the lake-side; she redoubled her
speed, arrived at the hut, and found her
father and mother at the door, their arms
held forth to receive her. Mutual embraces were followed by mutual explanations ;
each of them had returned home by a different road, but all were now united and
happy. Not till then did Elizabeth perceive that the stranger had followed her.
Springer immediately recognized him, and
said with profound regret ; " M. de Sineloff, it is very late; but, alas ! you know I
am not permitted to offer you an asylum
even for a single night."-" M. de Smoloff!" exclaimed Elizabeth and her mother,
" our deliverer ! is it indeed he whom we
behold ?" They fell at his feet; and,
while Phedora, unable to express her acknowledgments, bathed them with her
tears, Elizabeth addressed him thus : " M.
de Smoloff, three years have now elapsed
since you saved my father's life; during
that period not a day has passed on which
our fervent prayers have not been offered
up to the Almighty, to beseech him to reward and bless you."-" Your prayers then
have been heard," answered Smoloff; with
the most lively emotion, "since he has
deigned to guide my footsteps to this blessed
abode; the little good I did, deserved not
such a reward."
It was now night, profound darkness covered the forest; a return to Saimka at
this hour would be attended with dan.
ger, and Springer knew not how to refuse the rights of hospitality to his deliverer ; but he had pledged his honour to
the governor of Tobolsk not to receive any
one under his roof; and to fail in his word
solemnly given was a dreadful alternative.
He proposed therefore to the youth to accompany him to Saimka. "I will take a
torch," said he; "I am well acquainted
with every turn of the forest, and all those
places we must avoid, and fear not to con-

10

ELIZABETH; OR,

duct you safely."
The terrified Phedora
rushed forward to prevent him ; and Smoloff, addressing him respectfully, " Permit
me, sir," said he, " to solicit a shelter in
your cottage till break of day. I know what
are my father's injunctions, and the motives
which compel him to show youso much severity; but I am certain that he would allow me on this occasion to release you from
your promise, and I will engage to return
shortly to thank you in his name for the
asylum you will have grantedme." Springer conquered his scruples; he took the
young man by the hand, conducted him
into his cottage, and placing him near the
stove, seated himself by his side, while
Phedora and her daughter prepared their
repast.
Elizabeth was dressed, according to the
costume of the peasants of Tartary, in
trowsers made of the skin of the rein-deer,
and a short petticoat of crimson stuff,
looped up ; while her hair in graceful ringlets almost reached the ground: a close
vest, buttoned at the side, displayed adto
vantage the elegance of her form; and her
sleeves turned back above the elbow, discovered her beautiful-shaped arm. The
simplicity of her dress seemed to enhance
the mild dignity of her manners; and all
her gestures were accompanied with a grace
which did not escape the observation of
Smoloff; who, as he watched her, experienced an emotion, to which he had been
before a stranger. Elizabeth beheld him
with equal delight; but it was a delight
pure as her mind, founded on the gratitude
she owed him, and on the hope of his assistance in the project she had so long indulged. That Power, who dives into the
inmost recesses of the heart, beheld not in
that of Elizabeth asingle thought which had
not for its object the happiness of her parents; for to them it was devoted, to the
exclusion of every other earthly attachment.
During supper young Smoloff informed
his companions that he had been three days
at Saimka, where he had learnt that a
great number of ravenous wolves infested
the neighbourhood, and it was in contemplation to commence a general chase, in
the course of a few days, for the purpose of
destroying them. At this intelligence
Phedora changed colour; "I hope," said
she, addressing her husband, "you will
not join in this dangerous diversion; Oh !
do not expose your life, the greatest of my
blessings."-" Alas, Phedora ! what isit
you say ?" exclaimed Springer, with a sensation of grief he could not repress. " Of
what value is my life? Were I gone, would
it be any longer your destiny to remain in
this desolate place? Do you not know
what would restore liberty to yourself and
to our child ? Do you not know-"
Phedora interrupted him with an exclamation expressive of the anguish of her soul:
Elizabeth rose from her seat, and, drawing
near her father, took one of his hands :
"My dear father," said she, "you know
that, reared in this forest, I am ignorant
of every other country: with you, my
mother and I are happy; in losing you, tuu

happiness would be lost. I answer for her,
as for myself, without you we could not be
happy in any situation of the globe; no,
not even in that country you so much regret."-" Possibly, M. de Smoloff," resumed Springer after a short pause, "you may
think these words should bring me comfort; on the contrary, they plunge the
poniard of grief still deeper in my bosom ;
that virtue, which should be my delight,
creates new pangs, when I reflect that it
will for ever be concealed in this desert, a
sacrifice to me; my Elizabeth will never
be known, never meet with the admiration
and the love so justly her due." Elizabeth
hastily interrupted him: " Oh, my father!
placed between my mother and you, can
you tell me I am not loved." Springer,
unable to moderate his affliction, continued
thus : " Never will you enjoy that happiness I received from you; never will you
hear the voice of a beloved child addressing you in angelic words of consolation;
your life will be spent without a companion; without any ofthe tender, the endearing ties of life, like a bird wandering in a
desert. Innocent victim! you know not
the blessings from which you are debarred;
but I, who no longer possess the power of
bestowing them upon you, I know and feel,
how deeply feel, their value!"
During this scene young Smoloff had in
vain endeavoured to repress his tears ;
they had fallen more than once: he had
attempted to speak, but his voice refused
utterance: at last, after a pause of some
minutes, " Sir," said he, "from the melancholy office which my father holds, you
must be well aware I am not a stranger to
the sight of distress : often have I travelled
through the different districts under his extensive jurisdiction. What lamentations
have I heard ? What solitary wretchedness have I witnessed; in the deserts of
Berisow, upon the borders of the Frozen
Sea, I have seen men who possessed not in
the wide world a single friend, who never
received a caress, nor heard the soothing
language of consolation; insulated and separated from all mankind, they were not
merely banished, their misery admitted of
no alleviation."-" And when Heaven has
spared you and my child," interrupted
Phedora, addressing her husband in an accent of tender reproach, "should you comnplain so bitterly ? Had she been taken
from you, what would you have done ?"
Springer shuddered at the idea; he seized
his daughter's hand, and pressing it to his
heart with that of his wife, he said, regarding them both tenderly, " Ah ! Heaven be
my witness, how strongly I feel that I am
not deprived of every blessing."
As soon as the morning dawned, young
Smoloff took leave of the exiles. Elizabeth
saw him depart with regret; for she was
impatient to reveal her project to him, and
to implore his assistance: not a moment's
opportunity had presented itself for her to
speak to him in private: her parents had
never quitted the apartment, and she could
not address him unobserved in tleir pre.
sence : she hoped, however, should shesee

THE EXILES OF SIBERIA.
him often, to be more fortunate; and
therefore, as he took leave, said in the most
anxious manner, " Will you not come
again, M. de Smoloff? Ah ! promise me,
that this is not to be the last time I am to
see the deliverer of my father."
Springer was surprised at the earnestness
of her address, and felt rather uneasy. He
reflected upon the orders of the governor,
with a resolution not to disobey them a second time. Smoloffreplied to Elizabeth's
request, that he was certain of obtaining
from his father an exception in his favour,
and should go that very day to solicit it.
" But, Sir," said he to Springer, "when I
am asking this favour for myself, can I not
deliver any message from you? Is there
any favour you may also require at his
hands ?"-" No, Sir," answered Springer
with unusual gravity, " I have no request
to trouble you with:" His guest looked
down dejected; then addressing himself to
Phedora, repeated his question in nearly
the same terms. " Sir," she replied, "I
should be glad if he would allow me and
my daughter to go to Saimka, on Sundays,
to hear mass." Smoloff undertook to obtain this permission; and departed with
the benedictions of the whole family, and
the secret wishes of Elizabeth for his
speedy return.
During his walk back to Saimka, Smoloff
could think only of her. His imagination
had been forcibly struck at her first appearance in the desert; his heart had been
deeply interested in the scene which he had
witnessed afterwards between her and her
parents; he recalled to his memory every
word she had uttered ; her looks, her manner ; and his mind dwelt particularly upoc.
the last words he heard her utter. Without this last address, a sort of respect, approaching to veneration, would perhaps
have deterred him from presuming to love
her; but the eagerness with which Elizabeth had expressed a desire of seeing him
again, the tender sentiment by which her
request had been accompanied, could not
fail to excite a suspicion in his mind that
she had been actuated by feelings similar
to his own. His ardent and youthful imagination dwelt upon the thought, and persuaded him that fate, not chance, had
brought about the adventure of the preceding evening, and that a mu'ual sympathy now existed between them; he was
impatient to read, in the innocent heart of
Elizabeth, the confirmation of all his hopes.
How far was he from imagining the sentiments, he was destined on a future day to
discover there.
Since Smoloff's visit to the hut, Springer's
melancholy seemed to have increased. He
reflected upon the generosity, the intrepidity, the gentleness of character this
young man appeared to possess; and it was
ever present to his mind, that such was the
companion he would have chosen for his
daughter; but her situation prevented him
from dwelling on the idea : and far from
being desirous of seeing Smoloff again,
he dreaded his return: for it would have
been a far more insupportable affliction

i1

than any he had yet experienced, to see
his child the pining victim of hopeless love.
One evening, while plunged in deep dejection, his head supported by his hand,
his elbow resting on his knee, he heaved a
deep sigh. Phedora dropped her needle;
and fixing her eyes upon her husband, with
an expression of the most heartfelt commiseration, she implored Heaven to enable
her to banish his vain regret, and pour the
balm of consolation into his wounded souL
Elizabeth from a farther corner of the
room observed them both, and felt a secret
joy as she reflected that a day might pos.
sibly come when she should be able to restore them to their former happiness; not
doubting that Smoloff would encourage
and facilitate her enterprise: a secret instinct assured her, that he would be moved
by it, and would assist her; but she feared
the refusal of her parents, and particularly
that of her mother
Nevertheless to depart without their knowledge would be repugnant to her feelings; nay, would be
impossible, as she knew not the name of
their country, nor the nature of the offence
for which she was to supplicate forgiveness
of the emperor : it was necessary then to
discover to them her intention; and the
present seemed to be a fit moment for the
disclosure: therefore, bending one knee to
the ground, she fervently implored aid from
the Almighty, and that he would incline
her parents to grant her suit: then, approaching her father, she stood behind him,
leaning upon theback of the chair on which
he was seated, and remained silent for
some moments, in the hope that he would
perceive and speak to her : but he continued in the same dejected attitude; and
she broke the silence thus: " Will you
permit me, my father, to ask you a question ?" He raised his head, and made a
sign that she might proceed. "When M.
de Smoloffinquired the other day, if you
wished for any thing, you answered No:
is it true that there is nothing you wish
for ?"-" Nothing that he could procure
me."-" And who then could grant your
wish ?"-" The hand of justice."-' My
father, where is it to be found?"-" In
heaven, my child; but if you mean upon
earth,-nowhere." As he ceased speaking, a deeper gloom overcast his brow, and
he resumed his melancholy position.
After a short pause, Elizabeth again
broke silence thus : " My dear father and
mother," said she, in a tone of animation,
"hear me : I have this day completed my
seventeenth year : this was the day on
which I received from you a being, which
will be valuable in my estimation, if to you
I am allowed to devote it; to you whom
my soul reveres and cherishes, as the liv.
ing images of my Creator. From the time
of my birth, not a day has passed away,
unmarked by your benefits, unendeared by
tokens of your love; hitherto the only return in my power to make has been gratitude and tenderness: but what avails gra.
titude if it be not shown ? what avails ten.
derness, if I cannot prove it ?Oh! my
beloved parents, forgive the presumption

ELIZABETH; OR,
of your child; once in her life she would
do for you, what, from the hour of her
birth, you have so unceasingly done for
her. Condescend then to intrust her with
the secret of your misfortunes."-" My
child, what wouldst thou ask ?" interrupted her father.-" That you would inform
me of as much as it is needful for me to
know, to be able to prove the extent of my
regard for you : Heaven bear testimony to
the motive which induces me to make this
request." As she uttered these last words,
she fell on her knees before her father, and
raised her eyes towards him with a look of
the most moving supplication. An expres.
sion so noble shone through the tears that
overflowed her countenance, and the heroism c'her soul reflected an air so angelic
over the humility of her attitude, that a
suspicion of her intention instantaneously
darte across the mind of Springer. Unable to shed a tear or breath a sigh, he remained silent, motionless, struck with a
sort of awe, like that which the presence of
an angel might have inspired : no circumstance attending his misfortunes had ever
had power to move his soul to such a degree, as the words Elizabeth had uttered :
and his firm spirit, that even majesty could
not intimidate, was subdued by the voice
of his child, and attempted in vain to strive
against the emotions that overpowered it.
While Springer remained silent, Elizabeth continued kneeling before him : her
mother approached to raise her: seated
behind her daughter, Phedora had not seen
the motion or the look which had revealed
her secret to her father : and was still far
from imagining the trial her tenderness
was threatened with. " Why," said she,
'' why do you hesitate to confide in your
child the history of our misfortunes ? Is it
her youth that prevents you ? Can you
fear that the soul of our Elizabeth will
suffer itself to be weakly depressed by the
knowledge of our reverse f fortune ?"
"No," replied Springer, looking stedfast.ly on his daughter ; "no, it is not weakness I apprehend from her."
From thesu
words, and the expressive look which accompanied them, Elizabeth saw that her
father had understood her : she pressed his
hand in silence, that he alone might comprehend her Meaning; for she knew the
cheart her mother, and was glad to reof
tard the moment in which it must be
afflicted. " Oh, Heaven !" exclaimed
Springer, " forgive me that I dared to repine : I regretted the blessings of which I
was deprived, but knew not those you had
in store for me. Elizabeth, in this one
happy day, you have made me ample
amends for twelve years of suffering."" My father !" she replied, "say notagain
there is no real happiness on earth, when
the child of such a parent can be blessed
with hearing words like these. But, speak
-tell me, I conjure you, your name,
that of your country, and the cause of
your unhappiness."-" Unhappiness ! I
am unhappy no longer: my country is
wherever I can live with my daughter ;
the name in which I place my greatest

glory is, that ofthe father of Elizabeth.' " Oh, my child !" interrupted Phedora,
" I did not think the tenderness I bore you
could admit of increase; but you have af
forded consolation to your father."
At these words Springer's firmness was
entirely subdued: he burst into tears, and,
pressing his wife and daughter to his heart.
repeated in a voice broken with sobs,
"Pardon, 0 Most High ! pardon an mngrate, who presumed to murmur at thy de.
crees; and withhold the chastisements his
temerity has deserved."
When these violent emotions had sub
sided, Springer said to his daughter, "My
child, I give you my word that I will inform you of every particular you wish to
know ; but you must wait some days: I
cannot speak of my sufferings at the mo
ment you have taught me to forget them.'
The obedient Elizabeth ventured not to
press him further, determining to wait with
deference till he should feel inclined to give
the information he had promised : but she
waited for that moment in vain : Springer
appeared to dread it, and to avoid her; he
had guessed her intention; and though no
language could express the gratitude and
admiration of this fondl parent, his tenderness would not allow him to grant the consent he knew she would entreat; nor did
he consider himself absolutely authorised to
refuse it. This was indeed the only recourse from which he might hope to be reestablished in his rights, and to replace
Elizabeth in the rank to which she was
born : but when he reflected upon the fa.
tigues she must undergo, the dangers she
must incur, the idea was insupportable.
Willingly would he have sacrificed his own
life to reinstate his family in their rank and
possessions ; but to risk that of his daughter in such an attempt, was a trial to which
he felt his courage was unequal.
The silence of her father taught Elizabeth the line of conduct she ought to pursue: she was certain that he had penetrat.
ed into her design, and was more deeply
affected by it than she had ever seen him :
which, if it had met his approbation, he
would not with so much precaution have
avoided speaking to her upon the subject.
Indeed, when she considered her scheme,
it seemed so impracticable, that she feared
her parents would only regard it as the effusion of filial enthusiasm. In order,
therefore, to place her project in a point oi
view more favourable to its execution, she
must represent it divested of some of the
greater obstacles by which it was opposed,
and to this end must solicit the advice and
assistance of Smoloff. With a determination, therefore, to maintain silence upon
the subject, and not to disclose tb" secret
entirely to her parents till she had conversed with him, she waited impatiently for his
return.
Elizabeth foresaw that one of the strong.
est reasons that would withhold her parents' consent, would be the difficulty of
undertaking to travel eight hundred miles
on foot, in the severest climate of the earthd,
To lessen this difficulty as much as possi.

THE EXILES OF SIBERIA.

18

ble, and to prepare herself for hardship and more strict than ever; that in allowing
fatigue, she exercised her strength daily in young Smoloff to see him once more, the
the plains of Ischim. Whether the snow, governor of Tobolsk had consulted his
drifted by the wind, beat against her with feelings rather than his duty; but this via violence that opposed her passage, or a sit was to be the last: of this his father
thick mist concealed almost the path before had exacted a solemn promise. Smoloff
her, she relinquished not her resolution; was grieved to the soul at so much severisometimes, in contridiction even to the ty; but as he drew near the dwelling of
wishes of her parents, accustoming herself Elizabeth, his melancholy dispersed: he
by degrees to endure the inclemency of thought less of the pain of taking leave unweather, and their disapprobation.
der the cruel restriction imposed upon him
Siberia is subject to sudden storms; fre. by his father, than of the delight he should
quently during the winter season, when the experience in seeing her again.
sky appears the most serene, dreadful
In the first ardent pursuit that occupies
hurricanes arise instantaneously, and ob- the youthful mind, the enjoyment of the
scure the atmosphere. They are impelled present felicity is so animated, so complete,
from the opposite sides of the horizon ; and that it obliterates all idea of futurity, and
when they meet, the strongest trees in vain engrosses the soul so entirely, that no room
oppose their violence : in vain the pliant I is left for the anticipation offuture distress :
birch bends to the ground; its flexible happiness is a sensation too ardently felt by
branches with their trembling leaves are youth, to suffer them to waste a thought
broken and dispersed; the snow rolls from upon the instability of its duration. But
the tops of the mountains, carrying with it when, upon entering the cottage, Smoloff
enormous masses of ice, which break looked around for Elizabeth in vain, and
against the points of the rocks : they break reflected that he might not be able to proin -theirturn; and the wind, carrying away long his visit till her return, his disappointthe fragments, together with those of the ment was too apparent to escape the most
falling huts, in which the terrified animals superficial observation. In vain did Phe.
have in vain sought shelter, raises them dora address him in the most affecting
high in the air, and dashing them back to terms of gratitude, blessing the hand that
the earth, strews the ground with the ruins had re-opened for her the house of God, as
of every production of nature.
well as preserved the life of her beloved
One morning in the month of January, husband.
In vain did Springer call him
Elizabeth was overtaken by one of these the protector, the comforter of the afflicted;
terrible storms : she was in the plain near he appeared almost insensible to their disthe little chapel: and as soon as the sud- course, and in the little he spoke, the
den darkness of the sky announced the ap- name of Elizabeth every instant escaped his
proaching tempest, sought shelter under its lips. His evident embarrassment partly
venerable roof: the furious wind soon at- betrayed the situation of his heart, and the
tacked this feeble edifice i and, shaking it disclosure rendered him dearer to that of
to its foundation, threatened every instant Phedora: his love for her daughter flatterto level it with the ground. Elizabeth, ed her pride, the indulgence of which
prostrate before the altar, was insensible to yields the highest gratification; and surely
fear : the storm she had heard destroying no mother had more reason to be proud of
all around her, created no sensation in her a child.
breast, but that of a reverential awe, causSpringer, though no less sensible of the
ed by a natural reflection on the Omnipo- merit of his daughter, and fearing that she
tent Being, from whose hand it came. As would discover the visible partiality of the
her life might be serviceable to her parents, young man, which might disturb her peace,
she felt assured that Heaven would for reminded Smoloff of the obedience due to
their sake watch over and guard it, till his father, with the hope of putting an end
she had delivered them from suffering, to a visit which, by divers pretences, the
This sentiment, approaching almost to su- youth sought to prolong. It was at this periperstition, created by the fervour of her od that the storm arose; the parents tremfilial piety, inspired Elizabeth with a tran- bled for the safety of their child. " Elizaquillity so perfect, that in the midst of war- beth ! Oh Elizabeth ! What will become of
ting elements, with the thunderbolts of my Elizabeth?" cried the agonized mother.
heaven falling around her, she yielded Springer took his stick in silence, and
calmly to the heaviness which oppressed went to seek his daughter; Smoloffrushed
her; and lying down at the foot of the al- after him.
tar, before which she had been offering up
The tempest raged with the most terriher prayers, fell into a slumber, secure and fic violence on every side; the trees were
peaceful as that of innocence reposing on torn up by the roots, and an attempt to
the bosom of a father,
cross the forest was attended by the most
On this very day Smoloff had returned imminent danger. Springer remonstrated
from Tobolsk. On arriving at Saimka, he with Smoloff, and endeavoured to deter
hastily proceeded to the cottage of the him from following, but in vain; Smoloff
exiles. He brought the permission Phe- saw all the danger, and rejoiced that an opdora had solicited; her daughter and her- portunity should offer for him to encounter
self were at liberty to attend divine ser- such for the sake of Elizabeth : he would
v'ce at Saimka every Sunday : but so far give a proof of an affection he could scarce.
from extending his indulgence to Springer, ly have declared to her by any other means.
the orders of the court regarding him were
They had now reached the middle of the

J4

ELIZABETH;

forest. " On which side shall we turn ?"
asked Sme2off.-" Let us proceed towards
the plain," Springer replied ; "She walks
there ever y day, and has probably taken
shelter in the chapel." They said no more;
their anxiety was equal; stooping to shel'er their heads from the blows of the
broken boughs, and from the fragments of
rock which the wind scattered about, they
walked forward as fast as the snow, which
beat in their faces, would permit.
On reaching the plain, the danger with
which they had been menaced from the
falling of trees ceased; but in this exposed
situation they were sometimes driven backwards, and at others thrown down by the
violence of the tempest. At last they
reached the little chapel, in which they
hoped Elizabeth had sought a refuge; but
when they beheld this dangerous shelter,
the walls of which consisted only of slightly-joined planks, that seemed ready every
instant to fall, and become a pile of ruins,
they began to shudder at the idea that she
might be within them. Animated with
more than parental fears, Smoloff, leaving
Springer behind, was the first to enter the
tottering edifice, where to his inexpressible
astonishment he sees Elizabeth, not terrifled, pale, and trembling, but in a peaceful
sleep before the altar. Struck with unut.
terable surprise, he stops,-points out to
Springer the cause of his amazement; and
both, impelled by similar sentiments of
veneration, fall on their knees by the side
of the angel sleeping under the special protection of Heaven. The father bent over
his child, while Smoloff, casting down his
eyes, retired some steps, not presuming to
approach too near to such supreme innocence.
Elizabeth awoke, beheld her father, and
throwing herself into his arms, exclaimed,
" Ah! I knew you watched over me."
Springer pressed her to his heart with indescribable emotion. " My child," said he,
" into what agonies have you thrown your
mother and me!"-" Oh, my father ! parJon me for causing those tears," answered
Elizabeth; "and let us hasten to relieve
the terrors of my mother." In rising, she
perceived Smoloff. "Ah !" said she, in
gentle accents of pleasure and surprise,
"all my protectors have then been watching over me: Heaven, my father, and
you." With extreme difficulty did her delighted lover repress the emotions of his
heart.
Springer resumed. "My dear child,"
said he, "you talk of rejoining your mother,
but do you know whether it will be possible ! whether you will be able to resist
the violence of a tempest that M. de Smoloff and I seem to have escaped from but
by a miracle?"-" I will try," answered
"my strength is greater than you
think; and I rejoice in an opportunity
which enables me to show you how much
it is capable of performing, when the consolation of my mother calls forth its exertion."
As she spoke, unwonted courage beamed
in her eyes; and Spring.r perceived that

-he;

OR,

her enterprise was far from being relinquished : she walked between her father
and Smoloff, who supported her together,
and sheltered her head with their wide
mantles. How much did Smoloff rejoice
in that boisterous wind which obliged
Elizabeth to trust to him for support ! He
thought not of his own life, which he would
gladly have exposed a thousand times to
prolong those moments ; he feared not ever
for that of Elizabeth, which, in the ecstacy
that possessed him. he would have defied
the elements combined, to hinder him from
preserving.
The sky now began to resume its serenity, the clouds dispersed, and the wind
ceased by degrees: Springer recovered his
spirits, but those of Smoloff were depressed.
Elizabeth withdrew her arm, and chose to
walk on unassisted; for she was desirous
of braving before her father the remainder
of the storm : she .was proud of her
strength, and eager to display before him
a proof of it; with the hope of convincing
him, that it would not fail when she should
undertake to obtain his pardon from the
emperor, were it necessary to go to the remotest extremity of the earth to seek it.
Phedora received them all with transports of joy and tenderness, thanking Heaven that had restored them to her: she
comforted her daughter, who grieved for
the tears she had caused, dried her dripping garments; and, taking off her fur
bonnet, smoothed her long hair. For these
maternal cares, so tender, though trivial,
which Elizabeth received daily from the
hands of her mother, her affectionate heart
became each day more gratefil. Young
Smoloffwas affected at witnessing them ;
and felt that the happiness he would experience, in becoming the husband of Elizabeth, would be much increased by being
also the son of the amiable Phedora.
The storm had now entirely subsided,
and night began to spread its dark shade
over the cloudless sky. Springer pressed
the hand of his guest, and with a mixed
sensation of sorrow and tenderness, re.
minded him it was time to depart. Eliza,
beth then learned, for the first time, that
he was come to take a farewell.-The colour
forsook her cheeks at the intelligence,
and her embarrassment became visible.
"What !" said she to him, "shall I never
see you again ?"-" Oh, yes!" replied he
eagerly, " As long as you inhabit these deserts, and I am free, I shall stay at Saimka.
I shall see you at church whenever you
come, and I shall see you on the plain,
upon the banks of the lake, whenever this
He stopped
happiness is allowed me."
suddenly, astonished him.self at his feelings,
and at what he had uttered; but Elizabeth
did not understand him; in all he had said
she only remarked the certainty of their
meeting again, and that she should be able
to consult with him upon their enterprise.
Comforted by these hopes, she took leave
of him with less regret.
When Sunday arrived, Elizabeth and
her mother, after an early breakfast, set
out for Saimka. Springerbade them adieu

THE EXILES OF SIBERIA.
with a feeling of regret, as this was the
first time since his exile that he had remained alone in the cottage : but he concealed this sensation, and blessed them
with composure, recommending them to the
protection of the Supreme Being they were
going to invoke. The weather was fine;
the Tartarian peasant served them as a
guide through the forest of Saimka; its
distance appeared short. On entering the
church, every eye was turned towards
them; but theirs were reverently cast
down, while their hearts were fixed upon
God alone. They advanced to the altar,
and bending before it offered up their sincere supplications for the same object ; and
if those of Elizabeth were more comprehensive than Phedora's, the beneficent
Being who beheld their intentions heard
them with equal indulgence.
During the time the ceremony lasted,
Elizabeth did not xemove the veil which
concealed her face: her thoughts were so
entirely engrossed by her Creator and her
parents, that they did not extend even to
him from whom she hoped for protection.
The pious concert of voices, which chaunted the sacred hymns, made an impression
on her senses approaching to ecstacy; her
imagination painted the heavens opening,
and the Almighty himself presenting an
angel to conduct heron her journey. This
imaginary vision lasted as long as the music vibrated upon her delighted ear; when
that ceased, she raised her head, and the
first object that presented itself was young
Smoloff, leaning against one of the pillars,
at a little distance, with his eyes fixed intently upon her : he appeared to her to be
the angel God had presented, the guardian
angel who was to assist her in the deliverance of her father. Her eyes beamed confidence and gratitude. Smoloff was.moved
by their expression ; it seemed to be in
union with what passed in his mind; for
he also grateful for the happiness he
felt
enjoyed in seeing her, and in believing
himself beloved,
Upon leaving the church, he offered
Phedora to conduct her in his sledge to the
entrance of the forest; she consented with
pleasure, as it would be the means of sooner
rejoining her beloved Springer; but Elizabeth was disappointed by this arrangement;
she had flattered herself that, in the course
of a walk, some opportunity would have
occurred of speaking to Smoloff in private;
in a carriage she knew it would be imposBible : and could she speak before her
mother, who, yet in perfect ignorance of
her design, would, on its first disclosure,
reject it with terror, and forbid him to afford her any assistance? Yet she ought
not to lose such an opportunity of mention.ng her scheme to him, as possibly none
equally favourable might ever occur again,
Thus was her mind agitated and perplexed,
when the sledge had already passed the
,order of the forest, which Smoloff had
declared he could not go beyond; but
wanting resolution to leave Elizabeth, he
went on till they reached the banks of the
lake ; there, however, he was obliged to

1t

stop : Phedora descended first, and taking
his hand said, " Will you not sometimes
walk this way " Elizabeth, who followed
her mother, whispered, in a hurried voice
-" No, not this way, but in the little
chapel on the plain to-morrow." Thus did
she innocently appoint a meetings without
thinking of the interpretation Smoloff
might give to her words: she fancied that
she had spoken only of her father ; and on
seeing in his countenance that her request
had been heard, and would be granted, hers
brightened with joy. While Phedora and
her daughter walked towards their dwelling, Smoloff returned alone across the for.
est, plunged in a reverie of the most delightful nature. After what he had heard,
how could he doubt that Elizabeth loved
him. And with the knowledge he had of
her, how could this certainty fail to create
the most lively emotions of joy ? He had
never beheld beauty equal to hers; he had
lately seen her in the presence of her
Maker, the image of piety and innocence;
he had also seen repeated proofs of the tenderness of her heart, in her conduct towards her parents : how indeed could a
heart so tender fail of being moved to love
the man to whom a father's life was owing.
Ingenuous and candid as the pupil of Nature, how should she have acquired the
art of concealing her sentiments. Yet he
felt astonished at her wishing to see him
unknown to her parents; but he easily
found excuses for an indiscretion which he
dared to attribute to excess of love.
It was not with the embarrassment generally attending upon stolen meetings of
this nature, but with all the security of
unsuspecting innocence, that Elizabeth repaired, on the following morning, to the
chapel. Her steps were lighter, and hei
pace swifter than usual, as she considered
what she was doing as the first movement
she had made towards the liberation of her
father. The sun shone with splendour on
the snowy plains, and thousands of icicles,
hanging suspended from the branches of
the trees, reflected its bright image in va.
rious
forms of beauty and grandeur; but
this lustre, so brilliant and clear, was less
pure, less noble, than the soul of Elizabeth.
She entered the chapel; Smoloff was not
there; this delay disturbed her; a slight
gloom overspread her countenance. It
was
not caused by disappointed vanity, nor even
by neglected love : no passion, no foible
could at this moment find a place in her
heart; but she dreaded some accident or
unforeseen circumstance might prevent the
arrival of him she so anxiously expected.
With fervency she implored the Almighty
not to prolong the perplexity she had for
such a length of time endured. During
her supplication, Smoloff came : he was
astonished to find her there before him,
who had hastened upon the wings of love.
The passions of the human heart are
raised in the search of their gratification;
but Elizabeth afbforded a proof this day,
that virtue, in the performance of its duty,
is swifter still.
On seeing Smoloff, she raised her hauds

16

ELIZABETH;

OR,

to Heaven in token of gratitude; then I not be less than I would perform?"-" The
turning towards him with a graceful and obstacles are these," answered Elizabeth :
expressive motion, " Ah ! M. de Smoloff," " I am a stranger to the road, and my flight
said she, "how impatiently have I waited might injure my father ; this last weighs
for you !" These words, the expression of upon my mind infinitely more than any
her countenance, thepreciseness with which other ; on you then I rely for instructio
she had kept the rendezvous, all confirmed in every thing that regards my journeythe delighted youth in the belief that he was the towns I am to passthrough, the houses
beloved; he was on the point of declaring all founded for the relief of indigent travellers,
the fervour by which that love was return- on the hospitality of which I may depend
ed, but had not time to answer. " Listen for relief ; and on the surest method of
to me," said she ; " I have sought this op- getting my petition presented to the emportunity of seeing you, M. de Smoloff, peror. But first of all, you must promise
that I might implore your assistance in an me, that your father will not punish mine
attempt to restore liberty to my father. for the offence of his child."
Smoloff
Will you promise me your aid and counsel ?" pledged his word on this. "But, Elizabeth,"
These few words completely overturned added he, "do you know to what excess
all the ideas of happiness Smoloffhad form- the emperor is prepossessed against your
ed. Distressed, embarrassed, he perceived father ? Do you know that he regards him
his error; but it did not lessen the love he as his most inveterate enemy
am
bore Elizabeth. He knelt-she imagined ignorant," she replied, " of what crime
before God; but it was to her this mark of they accuse him : I know not even his real
veneration was paid, and swore to periorm name, nor that of his country ; but I am
every thing she required.
convinced of his innocence,"-" How !"
She resumed her discourse thus :" Since said Smoloff. "You know not the rank
the dawn of reason enlightened my soul, your father held, nor the name by which
my parents have been the sole objects of you must speak of him ?"-" Neither,"
my thoughts ; their love, my greatest bless- answered she.-" Astonishing !" he exing ; and to contribute to their happiness, claimed, "that neither pride nor ambition
my only wish. They are miserable. Hea- shouldhave had any share in suggesting an
ven calls me to their relief, and has led you enterprize to which your whole soul is deto this spot to help me in fulfilling my des- voted ? you know not the honours you
tiny. My design is to proceed to Peters- would regain; you think only of your paburgh, to solicit my father's pardon." rents. But what is grandeur of birth to a
Smoloffmade a sign of astonishment, ex. soul like thine? What, to the sentiments
pressive of the idea he conceived of the im- which inspire it, is the lofty name of-,"
possibility of the undertaking : but she "Hold," interrupted she, " the secret you
hastily continued-" I cannot tell you how are going to reveal belongs to my father,
long this design has held possession of my and from him only I must learn it."mind : it seems to me that I received it " True," replied Smoloff, in a tone of enwith my existence ; it is the first that I re- thusiastic admiration, "there is no princimember, and has never quitted me : in my pleof honour, no point of delicacy, which
sleeping, as in my waking moments, it is not an inmate in thy soul."-Elizabeth
pursues me ; it is that idea that has always resumed the conversation, to ask when he
occupied me when with you; and it in- would give her the information necessary
duced me to request to see you here, as it for her expedition. "I must take time to
has inspired courage sufficient to dread nei- consider it," answered he; " but Eliza.
ther fatigue, nor poverty, nor opposition, beth, do you think it is possible for you to
nor death : indeed, so bent am I upon traverse the 3,500 versts which divide Isleaving Siberia, that I should feel inclined chim from the province of Ingrai, alone, on
to disobey my parents, were they to refuse foot, and unprovided with money ?"their censent. You see, M. de Smoloff, "Ah !" exclaimed Elizabeth, "he who
that it would be in vain to remonstrate with sends me to the succour of my parents, will
me ; a resolution like this is not to be not abandon me."
shaken."
After a short pause, Smoloff resumed:
All the flattering hopes of her lover had, " It is impossible, at least," said he, " to
during this address, completely vanished; think of such an undertaking till the long
but his admiration soared far beyond the days of summer ; now it would indeed be
powers of description : such heroism, in one impracticable; even the sledges would be
of Elizabeth's age and sex, was so greatly stopped, and the marshy forests of Siberia
above any thing he had ever imagined, would infallibly swallow up the traveller
that his tears, which flowed unrestrained, who should be rash enough to attempt to
were caused by a sensation scarcely less de- cross them : I will see you again in a few
lightful than the transports of requited days Elizabeth; then I will inform you of
love. " Happy," said he, "happy, far be- my real opinion concerning this project,
yond desert, do I esteem myself, in being which has affected me so much, that I feel
thus your chosen guide and counseler ; at present incapable of forming a discrimibutyou are not aware of the various obsta- nate judgment upon it. I will return to
cles."-" Two only have discouraged me," Tobolsk, and consult my father-he is the
interrupted she : "and perhaps no one best of men : for, believe me, the situation
could remove them so effectually as you." of the exiles would be much more misera-" Speak!" said he, impatient to obey : ble, were he not governor of this district;
"What is there you could ask, which would and no one is more capable of appreciating

THE EXILES OF SIBERIA.

17

a noble action : he cannot however assist lerate her departure : but the service end.
you; duty forbids it; but I pledge you ed, and Smoloff appeared not. Elizabeth
my honour, that, so far from punishing was uneasy. While her mother still con.
your father for having given existence to a tinued praying, she inquired of an old wodaughter so virtuous, it would be his man, if M. de Smoloff was in the church,
greatest glory to call you his : Elizabeth i The answer she received dismayed her
pardon me ! my heart declares itself in de- " No," replied the aged matron, "he haf
fiance of opposition ; I know that yours can departed two days since for Tobolsk." The
hold no other sentiment than the glorious object of her most ardent wishes seemed
ne that has so long engrossed it, and expect thus to fly always before her at the moment
not a return: but should there come a day she thought herself on the point of obtainwherein your parents, happy and secure in ing it. A thousand different terrors now
their native land, no longer require exer. presented themselves to her imagination:
tions, remember that in this desert, Smo- -- since Smoloff had left Saimka, without
loff saw you, loved you, and would have j remembering his promise, what reason had
preferred a life of obscurity and poverty she to suppose that he would remember it
with Elizabeth in exile, to all the glory at Tobolsk ? And, if he did, how could he
that the world could offer." He would perform it ? These thoughts haunted her
have said more, but tears interrupted his all day ; and at night, oppressed by the
utterance : he was amazed at the extraor- chagrin of disappointment, (which weighed
dinary emotion which agitated him; till more heavily, as there was no one to whom
then he had never felt such weakness, but she could communicate it : on the contra.
till then he had never loved.
ry, all her energy had been exerted to conElizabeth had remained motionless dur- ceal it from the observation of her parents,)
ing this unexpected declaration : the idea she retired early to her little apartment,
of any but filial love was to her so new, to indulge, unrestrained, the grief which
that she scarcely comprehended it : it overwhelmed her.
might have appeared less strange, had her
As soon as she quitted the room, Phedoheart been free to receive it ; had her pa- ra, addressing her husband, said : " I must
rents been happy, Smoloffmight have been disclose to you the solicitude which disturb&
loved ; he might still be loved, should that my peace. Have you not marked the
event, at a future period, happen ; but change in our Elizabeth ? In our society
while they are in affliction, she will re- she is absent ;"the name of Smoloff makes
main constant to her first passion ; and to her colour; his absence makes her unhap.
contain two, the human heart, comprehen- py. This morning, in the church, her
sive as it is, is not formed.
eyes wandered on all sides, and I heard her
Elizabeth had never lived in society : a ask if Smoloff was at Saimka : she became
stranger to its customs and rules, she had pale as death when informed that he was
nevertheless a sort of decorum, the atten. departed for Tobolsk. Oh, Stanislaus ! I
dant of virtue, which taught her, that, af- remember in those days which preceded
'r a declaration of love, she ought not to my union with you, it was thus 1 changed
remain alone with a man who had presum- colour when your name was pronounced :
ed to make it : she was therefore preparing it was thus my eyes sought you in every
to leave the chapel, when Smoloff who saw place, and filled with tears when the search
her design, said, " Elizabeth, have I of- was vain. Alas ! these are symptoms of no
fended you ? I call to witness Him who transient attachment. How can I observe
sees the inmost recesses of the heart, that them in my child without dread ? She is
in mine there is not less of respect than not destined to be happy, like hermother."
love ; He knows, that were you to com- -" Happy !" exclaimed Springer, with
mand it, I woulddie in silence : how then, a sensation of poignant regret : Happy in
Elizabeth, can I have offended you ?"- a desert, and in exile !"-" Yes, in a desert,
"You have not offended me," answered in exile, in every place, blessed with the
she gently; " but I came here merely to society of him I love."
inform you what I have in comtemplation
She pressed his hand to her lips. Reto do for the relief of my parents; now turning soon, however, to the first subject
that I have done, I have nothing else to of her discourse, she said : "I fear my Elisay, and am going to rejoin them."zabeth loves young Smoloff; and, charming
"Well then, return to your duty; in as- as she is, hliewill only behold in her the
eociating me with it,you have rendered me daughter of a poor exile; he will scorn her
worthy of you; and far from ever wishing affection; and my child, my only child,
in the most secret thought to turn you from will die with grief at seeing her love disits paths, I will devote my time solely to dained." Tears suppressed her utterance;
your service, in helping you to fulfil it."
and the presence of Stanislaus, which had
He then promised to give her, on the consoled her under all her afflictions, could
following Sunday, at Saimka, all the in. not remove the tears she entertained for
structions and observations which might be her daughter's future happiness.
Useful in the execution of her enterprise ;
Stanislaus reflected for a few moments,
and they parted, each looking forward with and answered : " Phedera, my beloved, be
eager expectation to their next meeting.
comforted : I have likewise studied our
When the Sunday arrived, Elizabeth ac- Elizabeth, and perhaps I have seen farther
companied her mother joyfully to Saimka: than you into what passes in her soul.
she was anxious to see Smoloff again, and Another idea, and not that of Smoloff, en.
receive the information which might acce- grosses it entirely; yes, I am certain of it.

18

ELIZABETH;

OR,

I am certain also, that if we were to offer hopes of success; but when those fail.
her to Smoloff, he would not contemn the ed, her sanguine imagination suggested
gift, even in this desert: and this senti- others upon which she resolved to speak
ment will render him deserving of her, if Before she ventured to begin, she reflected
everYes, it will be so: Elizabeth will upon all the objections that would be adnot always live secluded in this desert ; vanced, all the obstacles that would be reher virtue will not always remain buried presented in opposition to her scheme;in obscurity; she was not born to be un- that they were important was certain
happy,-it is impossible; so much goodness Smoloffhad told her so; and she was well
upon earth announces justice from heaven; convinced that the tenderness of her pa.
and, sooner or later, it will be shown."
rents would even exaggerate them.--This was the first time since his banish- What answer could be made to their re.
ment, that Stanislaus appeared not to de- monstrances, their entreaties, their com
spair. From this circumstance Phedora mands, when they should tell her that the
augured the most pleasing presages: and, blessing of revisiting their country would
re-assured by his words, lay down com- not be worth the terror they should suffer
posedly to rest.
during the temporary loss of their child?
For two months Elizabeth went every -She forgot that her father was near; and,
Sunday to Saimka, with the hope of seeing bursting into tears, fell upon her kneesto
Smoloff; but, in vain: he appeared not ; implore from Heaven that eloquence which
and at last she was informed that he had could prevail against their arguments.
left Tobolsk. All her hopes then vanished ;
Stanislaus, who heard her sobs, turned
as she no longer doubted his having en- hastily; and, running to her, raised her
tirely forgotten her, and frequently shed from the ground, saying, "Elizabeth, what
tears of the bitterest sorrow at the thought; is the matter? What has happened to
but for which the purest innocence could thee ? If thou art afflicted, weep at least
not have reproached her, since they were on the bosom of thy father."-" Oh, my
not a tribute to unregarded love.
father !" she replied, "detain me no longer
It was now towards the end of April ; here; you know my wish; O grant it! I
the snow began to melt, and a verdant feel that Heaven itself calls me."
shadeto diffuse itself over the sandy banks
She was interrupted by the young peasof the lake; the white blossoms of the ant, their attendant, who, running towards
thorn thickly covered its boughs, resem- them, cried, " M. de Smoloff---M. de
bling flakes of new-fallen snow, while the Smoloff is here!"
Elizabeth uttered a scream of joy; she
blue budded campanella, the downy mothwort, and the iris, whose pointed leaves took her father's hand, and pressing it to
rise perpendicularly, enamelled the ground her heart, exclaimed, " It is so; the Omaround its roots; the blackbirds descended nipotent himself calls me; he has sent him
in flocks on the naked trees, and were the who will open the road for me, and remove
first to interrupt the mournful silence of every obstacle. Oh, my father! your
winter. Already upon the banks of the daughter wil ~yet be able to break the chain
river, and sometimes on its surface, sported which holds you a prisoner."
Without waiting for an answer, she flew
the beautiful mallard of Persia, of a bright
flame-colour, with a tufted head and ebony to see Smoloff; and in the way met her
beak, that utters the most piercing cries mother, whom she seized by the arm; and,
when shot at by the sportsman, although embracing her, cried, "Come with me;
he misses hisaim, and woodcocks of va- he is returned: M. de Smoloff is returnrious species, (some black with yellow beaks, ed !"
Upon entering the cottage they perceived
others speckled, with feathery ruffs round
their necks,) ran swiftly on the marshy a gentleman, apparently about fifty years
grounds, or hid themselves among the of age, in a military dress, accompanied by
Every symptom, in fine, an. several officers. The mother and daugh.
rushes.
aounced an early spring; and Elizabeth, ter, amazed, started back. "This is M.
.oreseeing all she should lose if a year so de Smoloff," said the young Tartar. At
favourable for her expedition was suffered these words all the hopes that had arisen
to pass by, formed the desperate resolution in Elizabeth were a second time destroyed:
fled; her eyes were filled with
of undertaking it unaided, trusting for its her colour
tears. Phedora, shocked at the excess of
success to Heaven and her own firmness.
One morning Stanislaus was employed in her emotion, placed herself before her, to
digging his garden; seated at a little dis- conceal it from general observation. Haptance, Elizabeth regarded him in silence : py would the afflicted mother have eshe had not yet confided to her the secret of teemed herself, if, by the sacrifice of her
his misfortunes: it was a confidence she life, her daughter could havebeen released
no longer sought: a kind of delicate pride from the fatal passion which she no longer
had arisen in her soul, which made her de- doubted held possession of her soul.
The Governor of Tobolsk dismissed his
sirous of remaining in ignorance of the
rank her parents held, till the moment of suite; and, turning to Stanislaus, said,
of " Sir, since the court of Russia deemed it
her departure; and to defer her request
knowing what they had lost, till she could prudent to condemn you to banishment,
answer, "I go to solicit that pardon which this is the first time I have visited this rewill restore all." Until now she had de- mote spot; and it is a duty now pleasing
pended upon the promises of Smoloff, to me, since it affords me the opportunity
and on them had founded reasonable oftestifying to an exile so illustrious, hos

THE EXILES OF SIBERIA.

19

After the governor had taken leave,
sincerely 1 feel for his misfortunes, and
how deeply I regret that duty forbids me Elizabeth still kept her eyes fixed upon the
to offer the assistance and protection I letter she held in her hand, not daring to
would so gladly bestow."-" I expect no. open it. "My child," said Stanislaus, "if
thing from men, Sir," answered Stanislaus you are waiting for permission from your
coldly; " I wish not for their commisera- mother and me to read your letter you
tion, as I hope nothing from their justice ; have it." With a trembling hand Elizaand since my misfortunes have placed me beth then broke the seal; and, as she read
at a distance from them, I shall pass my the contents to herself, made frequent cxclamations of gratitude and joy. When
days contented in this desert."
SOh, Sir !" interrupted the governor she had finished it, throwing herself into
with emotion, "for a man like you to live the arms of her parents, " Ihe moment is
an exile from his country, is a destiny to arrived," she said ; "every circumstance
be lamented !"-" There is one, Sir, more contributes to favour my enterprise; Heaven aproves and blesses my intention :
lamentable still," replied Stanislaus; " -to
die an exile." He said no more: for had Oh, my parents! will you not likewise
Stanislaus shuddered at the
he added another word, he might have shed bless it?"
a tear; and the illustrious sufferer wished words she uttered; he knew the intention
to appear above his misfortunes. Eliza- to which she alluded: but Phedora, who
beth, concealed behind her mother, ob- had not an idea of it, exclaimed, "Elizaserved with timidity if the air and coun- beth, what means this mystery ? what does
tenance of the governor announced a that paper contain ?" She made a motion
character which would encourage her to as if to take it, which Elizabeth presumed
disclose her project to him. Thus the fear- to detain : "Oh, my mother ! pardon me,"
ful dove, before it ventures to leave the she said; " I tremble to speak before you;
nest, watches from among the leaves if the you have not yet guessed what I would say,
appearance of the sky promises a serene day. and the idea of your terror disheartens
The governor remarked, and knew her ; me; it is now the only remaining impedihis son had often spoken of her; and the ment. I know not how to obviate it. Oh !
portrait he had drawn could resemble none permit me to explain myself now before
but Elizabeth. "Madam," said he, ad- my father only; you are not prepared as
-"
dressing himself to her, "my son has men- he is----" No, my child," interrupted
lioned you to me; you have made an im- Stanislaus, "do not separate us, do not that
1ression upon his mind time will never ef- which exile and misfortune has never yet
face."-" Did he tell you, Sir, that she is compassed. Come to my heart, my Phe.
indebted to him for the life of a father ?" dora; and if your courage fail you at the
words you are to hear, may mine sustain
hastily interrupted Phedora.
"No, Madam," answered the governor : your drooping spirits." Phedora, terrified,
"but he told me how ready she was to de- dismayed, seeing herself menaced by some
dreadful calamity, but knowing not from
vote hers to that father and to you." "She
is," said Springer; " and her affection- whence the stroke was to come, answered
ate regard is the only blessing we have now in a tone of alarm, "Stanislaus, what
left, the only one of which mankind has meanest thou ? Have I not endured with
not been able to deprive us." The gover- fortitude every reverse of fortune ? Nor
nor turned aside to conceal his emotion. will that fortitude forsake me now," added
After a pause, addressing himself to Eliza- she, pressing to her heart her husband and
beth, " Madam," resumed he, "it is two her child: "between you it will sustain me
months since my son, then at Saimka, re- against the worst that fate can do-"-.
ceived an order from the emperor to set off Elizabeth attempted to answer, but her
immediately to rejoin the army then as.- mother would not hear her : "My child,"
sembling in Livonia; he was obliged to exclaimed she with anguish, " ask my life;
obey without delay. Before his departure, but do not ask me to consent to our separ.
he conjured me to convey a letter to you : ation." These words proved that she had
but it was impossible; I could not, without penetrated into the secret; the pain of
the most imminent danger, send a messen- telling it to her then was spared : but to inger with it; I could only deliver it myself, duce her to consent seemed an undertaking
and now his commission shall be executed." so arduous, that the sanguine hopes of EliElizabeth blushing, took the letter which zabeth were daunted.
Bathed in tears,
he presented to her. The governor, ob-. trembling at the sight of her mother's agiserving the surprise of Stanislaus and tation, Elizabeth, in broken accents, utPhedora, exclaimed, "Blessed are the tered only these words : " Oh, my mothe !
parents from whom a daughter conceals if for the happiness of my father I asked
such secrets only !" He then recalled his of you some days only ?"-" Oh ! no, not
attendants, and in their presence said to one," exclaimed her mother in an agony,
Stanislaus, " Sir, the commands of my so- "what happiness could be worth such a
vereign still prevent me from allowing you price ! No, not one day ! Oh Heaven !
toreceive any one here; nevertheless, if do not permit her to ask me."
Thlese
any poor Imissonaries, who, I am inform. words entirely subdued the courage of Elied, must cross these deserts, in their re- zabeth : unable to utter what could, to
turn from the frontiers of China, should such an excess, afflict her mother, she pre.
come to your dwelling, to beg a night's sented the letter she had received from the
lodging, you are permitted to receive Gcvernor of Tobolsk to her father, and
them.,"
made a sign for him to read it. He took it

20

ELIZABETH; OR,

and in a faltering voice read aloud the following lines, written by young Smoloff, at
Tobolsk, dated two months before,
" The greatest concern I experience on
leaving Saimka, Elizabeth, proceeds from
the impossibility of informing you that an
indispensable obligation forces me to an absence from you : I can neither see you,
write to you, nor send you the information
you have asked of me, without acting in
opposition to the commands of my father,
without endangering his safety : perhaps
my wish to oblige you might have induced
me to have failed in my duty towards him,
had it not been for the example you have
shown me ; but after I had so lately learnt
what is due to a parent, I could not expose
the life of mine. To you, however, I will
confess, that my duty was not, like yours,
performed with delight. I returned to Tobolsk with a broken heart. My father informed me that a mandate from the emperor must transport me a thousand miles
from hence, and that it must be obeyed immediately. I depart, Elizabeth, and you
know not what I suffer. Ah ! I do not ask
of Heaven that you should ever know my
feelings :-that Elizabeth should know unhappiness would be a derogation from its
justice.
" I have opened my heart to my father :
I have made you known to him, and his
tears have flowedat therecital of your project : I believe he will visit the district of
Ischim this year, and that it will be expressly to see you : in the interim, he will,
If it be possible, convey to you this letter. I
depart with greater tranquillity, Elizabeth,
since I leave you under the protection of my
father ; but do not, I conjure you, do not
think of setting out on your expedition until my return ; I expect it will be in less
than a year; I will be your conductor,
your guardto Petersburgh, and will present
you to the emperor. Do not fear that I
will address you again on the subject of my
love ; no, I will be but as a friend, a brother : and if I serve you with all the feryour of passion, I swear never to address
you but in a language pure as innocence, as
that of angels, or yourself."
Underneath, the following postscript was
written by the governor himself.
" No, Elizabeth, it is not my son that
must conduct you : I doubt not his honour,
but yours must be placed beyond the reach
of suspicion. When at the court of Russia
you exhibit instances of virtue too heroic
not to be crowned with success, the breath
of envy must not whisper, that you were
Conducted thither by a lover, and thus taraish the noblest instance of filial piety the
world can boast of. In your present situation there are no protectors worthy to guide
your innocence, but Heaven and your faSher. Your father cannot accompany you :
but Heaven will not forsake you; Religion will lend you her aid; shield yourself
therefore under her guidance. You know
to whom I have given permission to enter
your dwelling. In instructing you with
these directions, I render you the depository
of my fate; were this letter to be made

public; were it to be known that I had fa.
voured your departure, my ruin would be
the inevitable result : but I have no fear;
I know in whom I confide, and what may
be expected from the heroism and honour
of a daughter willing to sacrifice her life for
a father."
As he finished the letter, Stanislaus'voice
became firmer and more animated ; he gloried in the virtues of his daughter, and in
the admiration they excited ; but the tender mother thought only of losing her ;
pale, motionless, unable to weep, she re
garded her child in silence, and raised her
eyes to heaven. Elizabeth threw herself on
her knees before them both : " Oh, my parents !" said she, "allow me to speak to
you in this posture. In an humble attitude
should the greatest of all blessings be soli.
cited. I presume to aspire to that of re..
storing you to liberty, to happiness, and to
your country ; for more than a year has
this been the object of my fondest hopes :
the season for it approaches, and you would
forbid me to attempt it. If there is a blessing greater than that which I entreat, refuse me this, I will consent; but if there is
not--- "Agitated, trembling, the accents
she would utter died unfinished on her lips,
and by looks and motions of the most earnest supplication only could she finish her
prayer. Stanislaus laid his hand upon his
daughter's head without speaking; her
mother exclaimed, " Alone, on foot, without help ! Oh, no, I cannot ! I cannot !"
-- " My mother," answered Elizabeth
eagerly, "do not, I beseech you, do not
oppose my wish ; you would not, if you
knew how long I have indulged it, and all
the consolation I have derived from it. As
soon as my reason allowed me to comprehend the cause of your unhappiness, I resolved to dedicate my life to the removal ot
it. Blessed was the day on which I con.
ceived the design of liberating my father!
Blessed the hope which supported me when
I saw you weep ! How long ago, witness
of your silent sorrow, the affliction would
have overwhelmed me, had I not reflected,
It is I who may restore what they lament
the loss of. If you deprive me of this hope.
in which all my thoughts centre, I shall no
longer attach a value to my existence, and
my days will linger away in despondence.
Oh ! pardon me for grieving you. No,
you forbid my departure, I shall not die,
since my death would be an additional
source of affliction to you; but I trust
you will not oppose my happiness. Tell me
not that my enterprise is impracticable.
My heart answers that itis not: it will sup.
ply strength to sustain me when I go to
claim justice, and eloquence to obtain my
demand; nothing will daunt me; neither
sufferings, nor contempt ; neither the daz
zling splendour of a court, nor the awfu
brow of majesty; nothing but your refusal."
-" Cease, Elizabeth, oh cease !" interrupted Stanislaus; " my ideas are confused :
my soul till now never sunk before a noble
action; till now had never heard of virtue
tpo heroic for its strength to bear. I did not
tliinkmyselfweak; oh! mychild! younow

THE EXILES OF SIBERIA.
teach me that I am :-No, I cannot consent." Encouraged by his refusal, Phedora, taking her daughter's hands between
hers, said, " Hear me, Elizabeth: If your
father betrays weakness, you may well excuse it in your mother; pardon her that
she has not resolution to give you permission to display your virtue. Strange ! that
a mother must ask her child to be less excellent; but your mother asks it only, she
does not command; possessed of such
greatness of soul as you are, you ought to
receive no command but from the dictates
of your own heart."--" My dear mother,"
replied Elizabeth, " yours shall ever be
held sacred : if you desire me to remain
here,I hope I shall have resolution enough
to obey without repining; but suffer me
to hope that my scheme will yet receive
your assent; it is not the result of a moment's enthusiasm, but of the reflection of
many years; it is established upon solid
reason as well as affection. Does there exist any other means of rescuing my father
from exile ? During the twelve years that
he has languished here, -what friend has
undertaken his justification ? And were
there one who dared to do it, would he
dare to say as much as I should ? Would
he be instigated by motives similar to
mine ?-Oh, no ! let me indulge the
thought that Heaven has reserved for your
Child only the blessing of restoring you to
happiness, and do not oppose the glorious
undertaking which Heaven has designed
to charge her with. Tell me, what is it
you consider so alarmingin the enterprise?
ls it my temporary absence ? Have I not
often heard you lament that exile that forbids you the hope of bestowing me in marriage ? And would not a husband have separated me from you entirely ? Is it danger ? There exists none; the winters of
this climate have inured me to the utmost
severity of the weather, and the daily exerrise I have taken in these plains to the fatigue of long travelling. Are you alarmed
on account of my youth ? It will be my
support; the weak meet with general assistance. Or, do you fear my inexperience ?
I shall not be alone ;-do you remember
the words of thegovernor's letter ? he per.
mits the poor missionary to take shelter under our roof, but to give me a guide and a
protector. You see every danger, every
obstacle, is removed; nothing is wanting
but your consent and your benediction."" And you must beg your bread," exclaimd Stanislaus, in atone of poignant distress,
" The ancestors of your mother, who formerly reigned in these territories; and
nine, who were seated on the throne of
Poland; will look down and see the heiress
of their name begging her daily bread in
that Russia which has made of their kingdoms provinces to her empire."-" If such
is the royal blood that flows in my veins,"
replied Elizabeth, in accents of modest surprise, " If I am a descendant of monarchs,
and that two diadems have graced the
brows of my forefathers, I hope to prove
myself worthy both of them and you, and
never to dishonour the illustrious name

91

they have transmitted to me :-but poverty
will not dishonour it. Why should not the
daughter of Seids,* and of Sobieski, have
recourse to the charity of her fellow-crea-*
tures ? How many great men, precipitated from the height of human grandeur,
have implored it for themselves ! Happier
than they, I shall implore it only in the
service of my father."
The noble firmness ofthisyoung heroine,
the degree of pious pride which sparkled
in her eyes at the thought of humbling
herself for her father's sake, gave to her
discoursesuch animation, and such strength
and authority, that Stanislaus was unable
to resist : he felt that he had no right to
prevent his daughter from displaying her
heroic virtue ;that he should be culpable
in detaining her in the obscurity of a desert. " Oh, my beloved !" he cried, tenderly pressing the hand of his Phedora, "shall
we condemn her to end her days here unknown? Shall we deprive her of the
prospect of being the happy mother of children resembling herself ? Take courage,
my Phedora ! this will be the only possible
means of restoring her to a world of which
she will be the ornament :-let us grant the
permission she solicits."-At this moment
the feelings of her mother triumphed over
those of the wife ; and for the first time
Phedora presumed to resist the most sacred of human authorities : " No, never,
never will I grant this permission : even
you, Stanislaus, will entreat in vain; I
shall have courage to resist. What ! shal
I expose the life of my child ! shall I consent to see my Elizabeth depart, to hear on
some future day that she had perished with
cold and famine in a frightful desert, and
live to deplore her loss ? Can such a request be made to a mother ! Oh, Stanislaus ! is it possible that there is a sacrifice
I cannot make to you, and a grief in which
all your endeavours to console me would be
vain !" She ceased to speak; her tears no
longer flowed; the anguish of her mind
was unutterable. Stanislaus, unable to.endure the sight of her distress, cried, "My
child, if your mother cannot consent you
must not go."-" No, my mother, if you
desire it, I will stay," said Elizabeth, embracing her with the utmost tenderness ;
"never will I disobey you; but perhaps
the Almighty will obtain from you what
you have refused even to my father; join
with me in entreaties, my mother ; let us
ask of him the conduct we must pursue; it
is his wisdom that must enlighten, his support that must sustain us : from him proceeds all truth, and from him only can we
learn submission to his decrees."
While Phedora prayed, tears again came
to her relief: that piety, which calms and
softens human affliction, and possesses itself of the heart, to chase thence the
agonies of sorrow ; that divine piety,
which never prescribes a duty, without
pointing out its recompence, and never
fails to pour the balm of consolation into
Noble Tartars who were descended
frsom
tht
ancient prnces of .iberi&

It2

22

ELIZABETH;

OR,

the souls of those who humbly invoke it, of her duty. Yes, had I been condemned
touched that of Phedora. The approbation to linger out my existence in the frightrul
of men can obtain from the ambitious cha- darkness of the terrific Beresow, or amidst
ractgr, which places all its happiness in the undisturbed solitudes of the lake Baikglory, a sacrifice of the tenderest affec- al, or of Kamptschatka, she would not have
tions; but religion alone can obtain such a forsaken me. In short, had my destiny
sacrifice from hearts like that of Phedora, been rendered even ten times more miserwhose happiness centered solely in those able, my Phedora would still have proved
my consoling angel: to her goodness, to
she loved.
On the following day, Stanislaus, being her piety, to her generous sacrifice, I shall
alone with his daughter, gave her a narra- ever believe I am indebted for my milder
tion of his misfortunes : he informed her doom. Oh! my child! all the solace of
of the dreadfulwars which had afflicted the my life I owe to her; while in return I
kingdom of Poland, and in what manner have associated her in my misfortunes."that unfortunate nation had been at last " Misfortunes ! my father," said Elizabeth;
subverted.-" My only crime, my child," " when you have loved her so tenderly, so
saidhe, "was too strong an attachment to constantly ?" In these words Stanislaus
my country to endure the sight of its sla- recognized the heart of Phedora; and pervery. The blood of some of its greatest ceived that Elizabeth, like her mother,
monarchs flowed in my veins; its throne could live contented with the man she
might have fallen to my lot, and my ser- loved. " My child," resumed he, returnvices and my life were due to the country ing young Smoloffs letter which he had
from which all my glory was derived. I kept since the preceding evening, "If I
defended it as I ought, at the head of a one day owe to your zeal and courage the
handful of noble Poles, I fought to the last restoration of that rank and wealth which
extremity against the three great Powers 1 no longer desire, but to place you in the
which combined to destroy it: and when, bosom of prosperity, this letter will remind
overpowered by the number of our ene- you of our benefactor; your heart, Elizamies, we were fc.ced to yield under the beth, is grateful, and the alliance of virtue
walls of Warsaw, in sight of that great can never disgrace the blood of royalty."
city, delivered up to flames and pillage; Elizabeth coloured as she received the letthough forced to submit to tyranny, at ter from her father; and placing it in her
the bottom of my heart I resisted still. bosom, answered, "The remembrance of
Ashamed to remain in my native coun- him who pitied, who loved, and served you,
try, which was no longer in the posses- shall ever be cherished by me."
For some days the departure of Elizasion of my countrymen, I sought arms, I
sought allies to assist me in restoring to beth was not mentioned; her mother had
Poland its existence and its name. Vain not yet consented; but in the melancholy
effort! ineffectual attempt! each day ri- of her air, in the deep dejection of her
veted faster those chains my feeble endea- countenance, were visible that the solicited
yours were unable to break. The lands of consent was in her heart, and that all hope
my ancestors lay in that part of the country from resistance had forsaken her.
One Sunday evening, the family was aswhich had fallen under the dominion of
Russia : I lived upon them with Phedora, sembled in prayer, when a gentle tapping
une- at the door disturbed them. Stanislaus
and should have lived with felicity
qualled but that the yoke of the stranger opened it; anda venerable stranger pre.
exweighed upon my mind. My open mur- sented himself: Phedora started up, who
murs, and still more the numabers of mal- claiming, " Oh Heaven ! this is he
contents who resorted to my house, dis- has been announced to us; he who comes
turbedan arbitrary and suspicious monarch. to deprive me of my child." She hid her
One morning I was torn from the arms of face, bathed in tears, with her hands; her
my wife, from yours, my child, from my piety could not even induce her to welcome
home: you were then only four years old, the servant of God. The missionary enterto his
and your tears flowed not for your own ed. A long white beard descendedlabours
misfortunes, but because you saw your breast; he was bent more by long
mother weep. I was dragged to the pri- than by age; the hardships of his life had
bons of Petersburgh: Phedora followed me worn his body and strengthened his soul:
thither; where the only favour she could there was an expression of sorrow in his
obtain was permission to share my confine- countenance, as of a man who had suffered
ment. We lived nearly a year in those much; but likewise something consolatory,
dreadful dungeons, deprived of air, nearly as of a man who feels that he has not sufof the light of heaven; but not of hope. I fered in vain: the whole of his appearance
not persuade myself but that a just inspired the beholder with veneration.
' Sir," said he, addressing himself to
monarch would forgive a private citizen
for having endeavoured to maintain the Stanislaus, " I enter your dwelling with a
rights of his country, and that he would joyful heart; the blessing of God is upon
trust to the promise I gave of future sub- this cottage, for it contains a treasure more
mission. t judged mankind too favourably : precious than gold and pearls; I come to
I was condemned unheard, and banished solicit a night's lodging." Elizabeth hastfor life to thie deserts of Siberia. My faith- ened to fetch him a seat. "Young maiden,"
ful companion would not abandon me : and said he to her, "you have early trod the
in accompanying me §he seemed to follow paths of virtue, and in the spring-time of
the dictates of her heart rather than those human life have left us far behind." He

-ould

THE EXILES OF SIBERIA.

23

was preparing to seat himself, when the
sighs of Phedora arrested his attention;
and addressing himself to her, " Why do
you weep ?" said he, "is not your child
favoured from the Most High? Heaven
itself conducts her steps, and you should
consider yourself blest far beyond the common lot of parents; if you grieve so bitterly, because the call of virtue separates your
child from you for a short time, what must
become of those mothers who see their offspring torn from them by the ways of vice,
and lost to them for eternity ?"-" Oh,
father! if I am to see her no more !" exclaimed the afflicted mother.-" You would
see her again," he answered with animation, " in that celestial Paradise which will
be her inheritance. But you will see her
again on earth; the difficulties of her undertaking are great and various, but the
all-powerful Being will protect her : he

attention of the exiles, moved with com.
passion for the surrbrings of their fellowcreatures, and led them to reflect that their
own lot had been mild compared with that
of many. What had not this venerable
old man seen ? What could he not relate?
who, for sixty years, at a distance of two
thousand miles from his country, in a foreign climate, in the midst of persecutions,
had laboured incessantly at the conversion
of savages, whom he entitled Brethren,
and who were not unfrequently his most
inveterate persecutors ? He had visited
the court of Pekin, and had excited the
astonishment of the Mandarins by the extent of his learning, and still more by his
rigid virtue and austere self-denial; he had
assembled together tribes of wandering savages and taught them the principles of
agriculture. Thus barren wastes changed
into fertile lands, savages became mild and

tempers the wind to the clothing of the

humane; families, to whom the fond titles

lamb."
Phedora bowed her head in token of resignation. Stanislaus had not yet spoken ;
his heart was oppressed; he could not utter a word. Elizabeth herself, who had
never before felt her courage relax, began
to experience sensations of weakness. The
animated hope of rendering service to her
parents had hitherto absorbed every idea of
the grief of leaving them; but now, when
that moment was arrived, that she could
say to herself, "To-morrow I shall not
hear the voice of my father, I shall not receive the fond caresses of my mother ; perhaps a year may pass away ere such happiness be mine again;" she now felt that
the success of her enterprise could hardly
make her amends for so distressing a separation. Her eyes became dim, her whole
frame was agitated, and she sunk weeping
upon the bosom of her father. Ah, timid
orphan, if already you extend your arms
to your.protector, and on the first approach
of thy undertaking bendest to the ground
as a vine without support; where wilt
thou find that courage requisite to traverse
nearly half the globe without guide or assistant !
Before they retired to rest, the missionary supped with the exiles. Freedom and
hospitality presided at the board, but gayety was banished; and it was only by the
utmost effort that each of the family suppressed their tears. The good religious regarded them with tender concern : in the
course of his long travels he had witnessed
much affliction, and the art of bestowing
consolation had been the principal study of
his life: for different kinds of sorrow he
pursued different methods; for every situation, for every character, he had words
of comfort; and seldom failed to afford relief; he knew that if it be possible to withdraw the mind from the contemplation of
its owvn sorrows, by presenting the image
of some calamity still greater than the one
lamented, the tears that flow through pity
will soften the agony of wo. Thus by relating the long history of his own crosses,
and of the various distressing scenes he
had witnessed, he by degrees attracted the

of father, husband, and of son, were no
longer unknown, raised their hearts to
Heaven in tributes of thanksgiving; all
these blessings were the result of the pious
labours of one man. These people did not
condemn the missions of piety; they presumed not to say that the religion which
dictates them is severe and arbitrary : and
still further were they from affirming, that
men who practise that religion with such
excess of charity and love towards their
follow-creatures, are useless and ambitious.
But why not pronounce them to be ambitious? In devoting their lives to the service of their fellow-creatures do they not
aspire to the highest rewards! Do they
not seek to please their Maker, and to gain
heaven? None of the most celebrated
conquerors of the earth ever raised their
aspiring thoughts so high; they were satisfied with the esteem of men, and with
the dominion of the universe.
The good father then informed his hosts,
that, recalled by his superior, he was now
returning on foot to Spain, his native
country. On his road thither he was to
pass through Russia, Germany, and France.
But he seemed to think little of the journey: the man who had travelled through
vast deserts, which yielded no shelter from
the inclemency of the weather but a den ;
no pillow to rest the weary head but what
a stone afforded; and whose only food had
been a little rice flour moistened with
water; might well consider himself at the
period of his labours on approaching to civilized nations : and Father Paul fancied
himself in his own country, when he found
himself once more among a Christian
people. He repeated accounts of dreadful sufferings he had endured, and of difficulties which he had overcome, when,after passing the wall of China, he had entered into the extensive territories of the Tartars. He recounted that, at the entrance
of the vast deserts of Songria, which apper
tain to China, and serve it as a boundary on
the side of Siberia, he had discovered a
country abounding in rich and valuable
furs, and through this commodity able to
maintain an extensive commerce with Eu-

24

ELIZABETH;

OR,

ropean nations : but no traces of their in- the moment that it was spoken of before her
dustry had as yet reached that distant must be that of givingher consent; and she
spot; no merchant had dared to carry his indulged the hope, that till it was granted
gold, or attempt a lucrative traffic, where her daughter would not dare to leave
the missionary had ventured to plant the home. Stanislaus collected all his firmcross, and had distributed blessings :-so ness; for he saw that on the morrow he
true it is, that charity will stimulate to en- must sustain the loss of his child, and the
terprises from which even avarice recedes. sight of his wife's anguish. He knew not
A bed was prepared for Father Paul in whether he could survive the sacrifice he
the little chamber belonging to the Tartar was going to make; a sacrifice to which
peasant, who slept, wrapped up in a bear- he never could have submitted, but from
skin, near the stove. As soon as day be- the excess of love he bore his daughter ;
gan to dawn, Elizabeth rose : she approach- and, concealing his emotion, he received
ed softly to Father Paul's door ; and, hear- the intelligence with composure and feigned
ing that he was already risen, and at pray- content, in orler to bestow upon his Eliers, she asked permission to enter and con- zabeth the only recompence worthy of her
verse with him in private ; as she felt that virtue.
How many secret emotions, how many
she dare not speak to him before her parents; much less to express her wish that afflicting unobserved sensations, agitated
they might set out the following morning the minds of parents and child on this day
on their journey. She related to him the of trial! Sometimes they exchanged the
history of her life ; a simple but affecting most tender caresses; at others they apstory, which consisted chiefly of anecdotes peared a prey to the most heartfelt grief.
of mutual tenderness between her parents The missionary sought to rouse their spirits,
and herself. In the long recital of her by reciting all the histories in the sacred
doubts and hopes, she had occasion more writings, in which Providence rewarded in
than once to pronounce the name of Smo- a special manner the sacrifices of filial piety
but
loff; it seemed as if this name occurred and paternal resignation : he gave hints
only to heighten the picture of her inno- likewise that the difficulties of the journey
cence, and to show that it was not wholly would not be so great ; as a man of high
through the absence of temptation she had consequence, whom he would not name,
preserved so entire the purity of her heart. but who they easily guessed, had provided
Father Paul was deeply affected at the nar- him with the means of rendering it easier
ration : he had made the tour of the globe, and more pleasant. Thus passed the day;
and seen almost all that it contained; but and, when night arrived, Elizabeth, on her
a heart like that which Elizabeth discover- knees, in broken accents, entreated her parents' blessing. Her father approached
ed was new to him.
Stanislaus and Phedora knew not that it her, the tears streamed down his manly
was their daughter's intention to leave cheeks; his daughter held out her arms to
them on the morrow; but when they em- him; he beheld in her motion the sign of
braced her in the morning, they felt that a farewell; his heart became too much opsensation of involuntary terror which all pressed to allow him to weep; his tears
animated beings experience on the eve of stopped while he laid his hands upon her
the storm that threatens them. Whenever head, recommending her in silence to the
Elizabeth moved, Phedora followed her protection of the Almighty, as he had not
with her eyes, and often seized her sudden- courage to utter a word. Elizabeth then,
ly by the arm, without daring to ask her turning round to her mother, said, " And
the question that hovered on her lips; but you, my mother, will you not likewise bespeaking continually of employments she stow your benediction upon your child ?"had for her on the following day, and giv- "To-morrow," replied she, in a voice al.
ing orders for different works to be done most stifled with the agony of grief. "Toseveral days hence. Thus did she endea- morrow ! And why not to-day, my moOh ! yes," answered Phedora,
your to re-assure herself by her own words: ther ?"-"
but her heart was not at ease; and the si- running to her, "to-day, to-morrow, every
lence of her daughter spoke most feelingly day." Elizabeth bowed down her head,
to it of her departure. During dinner, she while her parents, their hands joined, their
said to her, "Elizabeth, if the weather is eyes raised, with trembling voicespronouncfine,
to-morrow, you shall go in your little ed a solemn benediction that was heardon
canoe with your father, to fish in the lake." high.
The missionary, with a cross in his hand,
Her daughter looked at her in silence;
while the tears involuntarily fell from her stood at a little distance, praying for them :
eyes. Stanislaus, agitated by the same an- It was the picture of Virtue praying for Inxiety as Phedora, addressed himself to her nocence. If such invocations ascend not to
hastily ; "My child," said he, "did you the throne of the Most High, what can
hear your mother's desire? you are to come those be which have a right to attain it !
It was now the end of the month of May :
Elizabeth reclined
with me to-morrow."
her head upon her father's shoulder, say- that season of the year, when between the
in
ing, a whisper, " To-morrow you must deepening shades of twilight and the glim.
Stanislaus changed mering dawn of the day there is scarcely two
console my mother."
colour. It was enough for Phedora; she hours of night. Elizabeth employed this
asked no more : she was certain the depar- time in making preparations for her departure of her child ha 4 been mentioned; it ture : she had provided herself with a tra.
wasa subject she wished not to hear : for velling dress, and a change of shoes ald

THE EXILES OF SIBERIA.
stockings, in a bag of rein deer skin. It promise, if not to comfort your mother, at
had been her constant practice for nearly a least to encourage her to support your abyear to work at night after she had retired sence with fortitude, and will restore her to
to her chamber that she might get these you when you return hither. Yes, my
things in readiness, unknown to Phedora : child, whether the enterprise of your filia
during the same period of time she had re. piety be crowned with success or not, your
served from each of her collations some parents will not die tillthey have embraced
dried fruits and a little flour, in order to you again."
He then addressed the misdefer as long aspossible that moment when sionary, who with his eyes cast down, stood
she must have recourse to the charity of deeply affected at a little distance from this
strangers; but she was determined not to scene of affliction : " Father," said he, " I
take any thing from the dwelling of her pa- intrust to your care a jewel which is invarents, where littlewas tobe found but what luable ; it is more precious than my heart's
necessity required. The whole amount of blood; far, far more precious than my
her treasure was eight or ten kopecks : it life; nevertheless, with full confidence I
was all the money she possessed, all the intrust it to you: depart then together;
riches with which she undertook to tra- and may choirs of angels watch over both;
verse a space of more than eight hundred to guard her, celestial powers will arm
leagues.
themselves, and that dust which formed
"Father," said she to the missionary, the mortal part of her ancestors will be reknocking softly at his door, " let us depart animated; the all-powerful Being, the Fanow, while my parents are asleep; do not ther and Protector of my Elizabeth, will
let us awake them; they will grieve soon not suffer her to perish."
enough, they sleep tranquilly, thinking we
Elizabeth, without venturing to look at
cannot go out without passing through their her father again, placed one hand across her
chamber ; bit the window of this room is eyes, and giving the other to the missionary,
not high; I can easily jump out, and will departed with him. The morning's dawn
then assist you in getting down." The now began to illuminate the summits of
missionary agreed to this stratagem of filial the mountains, and gild the tops of the
tenderness, which was to spare the parents dark firs; but all nature was still wrapped
and child the agonies of such a parting. in profound silence. No breath of wind
As soon as they were in the forest, Eliza- ruffled the smooth surface of the lake, nor
beth, having thrown her little packet on agitated with its breezes the leaves of the
her shoulder, walked a few steps hastily trees; the birds had notbegun to sing, nor
forwards; but, turning her head once did a sound escape even from the smallest
again towards the dwelling she had aban- insect; it seemed as if Nature preserved a
doned, her sobs almost stifled her. Bathed respectful silence, that the voice of a fain tears she rushed back to the door of the ther, calling down benedictions on his child,
apartment in which her parents slept : might penetrate through the forests which
"Oh Heaven !" cried she, " watch over now divided them.
them, guard them, preserve them, and
I have attempted to convey an idea of
grant that I may never pass this threshold the grief of the father, but my powers are
again if I am destined to behold them no inadequate to describe that of the mother.
more !" She then rose; and turning, be- How could I delineate her sensations,
held her father standing behind her. 'Oh,
when awakened by the cries of her hus.
my father ! you are here : why did you band she runs to him, and reading in his
come ?"
-" To see you, to embrace you, desponding attitude that she had lost her
to bless you once more; to say to you, My child, falls to the ground in a state of unElizabeth, if, during the days of your child- utterable anguish, that seems to threaten
hood I have let one escape without showing her existence. In vain does Stanislaus, by
convincing proofs of my tenderness; if recalling to her mind allthe miseries attenonce I have made your tears flow; if a dant upon a life of banishment, endeavour
look, an expression of harshness, has af- to calm her grief; she attends not to his
flicted your heart, before you go, pardon voice; love itself has lost its influence, and
me for it; pardon your father, that, if he can no longer reach her heart;3 the sorrows
is not doomed to have the happiness of see- of a mother are beyond all human consoingyou again hemay die inpeace.''-" Oh! lation, and can receive it from no earthly
do not talk thus," interrupted Elizabeth. source : Heaven reserves to itself alone the
" And your poor mother !" continued he, power of soothing them; and if these agon.
"when she awakes, what shall I say to izing sorrows are given to the weaker sex,
her ? what shall I answer, when she asks it is formed gentle and submissive, to bow
me for her child ? She will seek you in the beneath the hand that chastises it, and
forests, on the borders of the lake, every have recourse to the only comfort that rewhere; and I shall follow weeping with mains.
It was about the middle of May that
her, and calling despondingly for our child,
who will no longer hear us." At these Elizabeth and her guide set out upon their
words, Elizabeth overpowered, almost faint- journey. They were a full month in crossing, supported herself against the walls of ing the marshy forests of Siberia, which is
the hut : her father, seeing that he had af- subject at this season of the year to terrible
fected beyond her strength, reproached inundations.
her
Sometimes the peasants,
himself bitterly for his own want of forti- whom they overtook, permitted them for
tude. " My child," said he, in a more a trifling compensation to mount their
composed voice, ' take courage; I will sledges; at night they took shelter in cvi

26

THE EXILES OF SIBERIA.

bins so miserable, that, had not Elizabeth tile and well cultivated; young woods of
been long inured to hardships and priva- birch are frequently intermixed with fine
tion, she would scarcely have been able to extensive fields; and opulent villages, betake any repose.
longing to the Russians and Tartars, are
She lay in her clothes upon a wretched scattered about, whose inhabitants appear
mattress, in a room scented with the fumes so contented and happy, that it can hardly
of tobacco and spirits, into which the wind be conceived they breathe the air of Sipenetrated through the broken windows, beria.
This tract of country contains even
ill-repaired with paper, and to complete its elegant inns, abounding in luxuries hitheruncomfortable state, the whole family, and to unknown to Elizabeth, and which ex.
sometimes even a part of their cattle, re- cited her astonishment.
posed in thesame miserable apartment.
The city of Perma, although the hand.
Forty versts from Tinoen, a town in the somest she had yet seen, shocked her, from
frontiers of Siberia, is a wood, in which a the narrowness and dirtiness of the streets,
row of posts mark the boundary of the di- the height of its buildings, the confused invision of Tobolsk.
Elizabeth observed termixture of fine houses and miserable
them; and to her it appeared like a second huts, and the closeness of the air. The
parting, to leave the territory which her town is surrounded by fens, and the coun.
parents inhabited. " Alas !" said she, try, as far as Cassan, (interspersed with
" what a distance separates us now !" barren heaths and forests of firs,) exhibits
When she entered Europe, again this me- the most gloomy aspect : in stormy seasons
lancholy reflection recurred to her. To be the thunder frequently falls upon these
in a different quarter of the world, pre- aged trees, which burn with rapidity, and
sented to her imagination the idea of a appear like
columns of the brightest red,
distance more immense than the vast ex- surmounted by crowns of flames. Elizatent of country she had crossed : in Asia beth and her guide, often witnesses of these
she had left the only beings of the universe flaming spectacles, were obliged to cross
upon which she had a claim, and upon woods burning on each side of them; somewhose affection she could rely; and, what times they saw trees consumed at the roots,
could she expect to find in that Europe so while their tops, which the fire had not
celebrated for its enlightened inhabitants ? reached, were supported only by the bark,
What in that imperial court, where riches or, half thrown down, formed an arch
and talents flowed in such abundance? across the road; others falling with a treWould she find in it one heart moved by mendous crash one upon another, made a
thersuffering, softened by her afflictions, or pyramid of flames like the piles of the anfrom whose commiseration shemight hope cients, on which pagan piety consumed the
for protection ? At this thought, one name ashes of its heroes.
presented itself to her mind. Ah ! might
Amidst these dangers, and the still more
she have dared to indulge the hope of imminent ones they encountered in the
meeting him at Petersburgh-but there was pas-age of rivers which overflowed their
no chance. The mandate of the emperor banks, Elizabeth was never disheartened;
had sent him to join the army in Livonia; she even thought that the difficulties of
there was not then the remotest probability her undertaking had been exaggerated.
of finding him in Europe, which seemed to The weather, it is true, was uncommonly
her to be inhabited by him only, because fine, and she often travelled in the cars, or
he was the only person whom she knew. kibitkis, which were returning from SiAll her dependance then was upon Father beria, whither they had conveyed new ex.
Paul; and, in Elizabeth's ideas, the man iles: a few kopecks our travellers easily
for
who had passed sixty years in rendering obtained permission of their drivers to ride
services to his fellow-creatures, must have as far as they went. Elizabeth accepted,
great influence at the court of monarchs,
without feeling hurt, the assistance of her
Perma is nearly nine hundred versts from guide; for what she received from him,
Tobolsk; the roads are good, the lands fer- was considered by her as the gift Heaven.
of

ELIZABETH;
OR,

THE EXILES OF SIBERIA.

PART II.
ELIZABETH her guide arrived upon the
and
banks of the Thama about the beginning of
September, which is but two hundred versts
from Cassan, having nearly accomplished
half their journey. Had it been the will
of Heaven that Elizabeth should complete
her enterprise as easily as she had hitherto
proceeded, she would have considered the
happiness of herparents cheaply purchased;
but it was her destiny to experience a sad
reverse : and, along with the winter season, that period approached which was to
put her steadfastness to the severest trial,
and call forth all the exertions of her filial
piety, to gain for its reward a crown of immortal glory.
The health of the missionary had for several days visibly declined; it was with difficulty that he could walk, even with the
assistance of Elizabeth, and supported by
his staff; he was obliged to rest continually ;
and when a conveyance could be obtained
in one of the kibitkis, the violent shocke
he received from the roughness of the road,
which was made of the trunks of large
trees carelessly thrown across the marshes,
exhausted his little remains of strength,
though the firm composure of his soul continued unmoved. On his arrival, however,
at Sarapol, (a considerable village on the
northern banks of the Thama,) the good
missionary found himself so extremely
weak, that it was impossible for him to
think of proceeding on his journey. He
was lodged in a miserable inn, adjoining to
the house of the superintendant of the district; the only room he could be accommodated with was a sort of loft, or garret, the
door of which shook under every step : the
windows were unglazed, and the furniture
f this wretched apartment consisted of a
wooden table and a bedstead, over which
was strewed a few trusses of straw; upon
this the missionary reposed his feeble
limbs : the wind, which entered freely the
broken casements, must have banished
sleep from his relief, had the pain he unremittingly endured allowed him to enjoy
any repose. The most desponding reflec-

tions now presented themselves to the ter.
rifled imagination of Elizabeth : she had
inquired for a physician; there was none
to be had at Sarapol: and, as she perceived
that the people of the house took no interest in the state of the dying sufferer, she
was obliged to depend solely upon her own
efforts for procuring him relief. After
fastening some pieces of the old tapestry,
which lined the sides of the apartment,
across the windows, she went out into the
fields in search of certain wild herbs, of
which she made a salutary beverage for the
suffering missionary, according to a receipt
she had seen of her mother's.
As night approached, the symptoms of
his malady grew every instant more alarm.
ing, and the unfortunate Elizabeth could
no longer restrain her tears. She withdrew
to a distance, that her sobs might not disturb his dying moments : but the good
father heard them, and grieved for an affliction he knew not how to remove; for
he felt well assured that he should rise nmore, and that the period of his mortal ca.
reer was fast approaching. To the pious
philanthropist, who had dedicated a long
life to the service of his God and of his fellow-creatures, death could present no ter.
rors; though he could not help regretting
at the prospect of being called away while
there remained so much for him to do
" Oh Most High !" he inwardly exclaim.
ed, ' I presume not to murmur at thy de.
crees; but, had it been thy will to spare
me till I had conducted this unprotected
orphan to the end of her journey, my death
would have been more easy."
When it grew dark, Elizabeth lighted a
rosin taper, and remained seated all night
at the foot of the bed to attend her patient :
a little before day-break she approached to
give him some drink; the missionary, feeling that the moment of his dissolution was
near at hand, lifted himself up a little while
in the bed, and, taking from her hand the
cup she presented to him, raised it towards
heaven, saying, "Oh, my God! I recommend her tothy care, who hast promised that

2S

ELIZABETH; OR,

a cup of cold water bestowed in thy name,
These words
shall not go unrewarded."
carried with them the conviction of that
mistormne Elizabeth had till this moment
affected to disbelieve : she discovered that
the missionary felt his end approaching,
and that she should soon be left destitute
and unprotected: her courage failed; she
fell upon her knees by the side of the
bed, while her eyes became dim, her respiration difficult, and a cold dew stood
upon her forehead. "My God! look
down with pity on her; look down with
pity on her, oh my God !" repeated the
missionary, while he regarded her with
the tenderest commiseration. But as he
perceived that the violence of her anguish
seemed to increase, he said, "In the
name of God, and of your father, compose yourself, daughter, and listen to
what I have to say." The trembling
Elizabeth stifled her sobs; and wiping
away the tears that impeded her sight,
raised her eyes to ner venerable guide in
token of attention. He supported himself
against the board placed across the back
of the bedstead; and, exerting all his
remaining strength, addressed her thus:
"My child, in travelling at your age,
alone, unprotected, and during the severe
season that approaches, you will have
to endure great hardships; but there are
dangers more alarming still, which must
fall to your lot. An ordinary courage,
that might stand firm amidst fatigues and
suffering, would be unable to resist the enticements of seduction : but yours, Elizabeth, is not an ordinary courage; and the
allurements of a court will not have power
to change your heart. You will meet with
many, who, presuming upon your unprotected situation and distress, will seek to
turn you from the paths of virtue; but you
will neither put faith in their promises,
nor be dazzled by the splendour which
may surround them. The fear of God,
the love of your parents, will place you beyond all their attempts. To whatever extremity you may be reduced, never lose
sight of these sacred claims, never forget
that a single false step will precipitate to
the grave those to whom you owe your existence."-" Oh, father!" interrupted she,
"fear not."-" I do not fear," said he;
"your piety, your noble resolution, have
merited implicit confidence, and I am well
convinced you will not sink under the trials
to which Heaven ordains you. You will
find, my child, in my cloak, the purse
which the generous governor of Tobolsk
gave to me, when he recommended you to
my care. Preserve this secret with the
strictest caution ; his life depends upon
your circumspection. The money this
purse centains will defray your expenses to
Petersburgh: when you arrive there, go
to the patriarch, mention Father Paul to
him; perhaps the name may not have
escaped his memory; he will procure an
asylum for you in some convent, and will,
I doubtnot, present your petition to the
emoeror-he cannot reject it, it is impossible. In my expiring moments, I repeat it

to you, my child, that a proof of filial piety,
like that you will display, has no precedent.
The admiring world will bestow the ap.
plause it merits, and your virtue will be
rewarded upon earth before it receives
the glorious recompense which awaits it in
Heaven-"
He ceased; his breath began to fail, and
the chilly damps of death already stood upon his brow. Elizabeth, reclining her head
against the bed-post, wept unconstrained.
After along interval of silence, the missionary, untying a little ebony crucifix, which
hung suspended from his neck, presented it
to her, saying, in feeble accents, "Take
this, my child; it is the only treasure I
have to bestow, the only one I possess on
earth; and, possessed of that, I wanted
not." She pressed it to her lips with the
most lively transports of grief; for the renunciation of such a treasure proved that
the missionary was certain the moment of
his dissolution was at hand. " Fear nothing," added he, with the tenderest compassion ; "the good Pastor, who abandons
not one of his flock, will watch over and
protect you; and if he deprive you of your
present support, he will not fail to bestow
more than he takes from you; confide securely in his goodness. He who feeds the
sparrows, and knows the number of the
sands of the sea-shore, will not forget Elizabeth."-" Father, 0 father!" she exclaimed, seizing the hand he held out to her ;
" I cannot resign myself to lose thee."" Child," replied he, "Heaven ordains it;
submit with patience to its decrees; in a
few moments I shall be on high, when I
will pray for you and your parents-" He
could not finish; his lips moved, but the
sounds he tried to utter died away; he fell
back upon his straw bed; and, raising his
eyes to heaven, exerted his last efforts to
recommend to its protection the destitute
orphan, for whom he still seemed to supplicate when life had fled. So deeply was
the force of benevolence implanted in his
soul, so habitually, during the course of his
long life, had he neglected his owninterest
to devote himself to those of others, that
at the moment he was to enter into the
awful abyss of eternity, and to appear
before the throne of his sovereign Judge,
to receive the irrevocable doom-he
thought not of himself.
The cries of Elizabeth attracted the people of the house; they demanded their
cause; and she pointed to her protector
extended lifeless on the straw. The rumour of this event immediately gathered a
crowd around the corpse--Some, who were
attracted by idle curiosity, regarded the
youthful mourner with astonishment, as
she stood weeping near the deceased;
others compassioned her distress; but the
people of the inn, anxious to receive pay.
ment for the miserable accommodation
they had afforded, discovered with delight
the contents of the missionary's cloak,
which, in her grief, Elizabeth had not
thought of securing; they took possession
of the purse, and told her they would restore the rest when they had taken enough

THE EXILES OF SIBERIA.

29

to reimburse themselves, and to pay the expenses of the funeral,
The people employed at interments in
Russia, styled Popes, soon arrived, followed
by attendants with torches : they threw a
pall over the deceased; and the unfortunate Elizabeth, obliged to let go the cold
hand of her lifeless protector, which she
had not till then relinquished, gave a
scream of anguish as she took a last view of
that venerable countenance, still retaining
its expression of serenity and benevolence.
She retired to the furthest corner of the
apartment, and there, bathed in tears, fell
upon her knees, and covering her face with
a handkerchief, as if to shut out from her
sight that desolate world, in which she
was now to wander alone, exclaimed in a
voice of stifled agony, " Oh ! thou blessed
spirit, who art now
the reward of
thy virtue in realms of happiness, abandon
not the destitute being who still looks up
to thee for succour ! Oh, my father ! Oh,
my mother ! where are you at this moment, that your child isbereft of all human
aid."
They now began to chaunt the funeral
hymns, and placed the body on the bier.
When the instant arrived for its removal,
Elizabeth, though weak, agitated, and
trembling, determined to attend to their
last asylum the remains of him who had
guided and protected her, and who, when
expiring, prayed for her welfare.
At the foot of an eminence on the northern side of the Thama (on which are situated the ruins of a fortress, erected during the remote period of the commotions of
the Baschkirs) is a piece of ground, used as
a burying-place by the inhabitants of Sarapal. This spot is at a little distance from
the town; it is enclosed by a low hedge,
and in the centre is a small wooden building that serves as an oratory, aroundwhich
heaps ofearth, surmounted by a cross, mark

small piece of money into the hand df the
deceased to pay his passage; and after
having thrown in a fewshovels-full of earth,
he departed. And thus was consigned to
oblivion the man who had never suffered a
day to elapse without rendering services to
some of his fellow-creatures : like the beneficent wind, which scatters wide the
grains of the earth, producing plenty all
around ;e
had travelled over more than
half the world, sowing the seeds of wisdom
and truth, and by that world he died forgotten ;-so little is fame attached to mo
dest merit ; so little of it do men bestow,
except on those who dazzle them, or on
those conquerors who glory in destroying
the human race to gratify their ambition.
Vain worldly glory! fruitless honours
Heaven would not permit you to be thus
the reward of human grandeur only, had it
not reserved its own celestial glory for the
recompense of virtue.
Elizabeth remained in theburying-ground
until the close of the day: she wept in solitude, and offered up her supplications to
the Almighty, which greatly relieved her
bursting heart. In afflictions like hers, a
meditation between heaven and the grave
is salutary : a reflection on death will rouse
our drooping spirits: a contemplation on
the joys of heaven will create hope and consolation: where a misfortune is beheld in
its extent, the horror we have conceived of
it decreases; and where such a compensation is presented, the evil annexed to it
loses its weight.
Elizabeth wept, but she did not repine ;
she thanked God for the blessings with
which the hardships of half her journey
had been lessened, and did not feel that she
was now entitled to complain because it
was the will of Heaven to withdraw them.
Bereft of her guide, of every human succour, her courage still sustained her, and
the undaunted heroism of her soul was

pulchral stones large clusters of thisties with wide-spreading leaves and blue
flowers ; and another weed, whose bare
and bending stem is divided into numerous
slender branches, bearing flowers of a livid
yellow, make their appearance as only fit to
bloom among tombs.
The train that followed the coffin of the
missionary was very numerous. It consisted of people of various nations; Persians, Turkomans, and Arabians, who had
made their escape from the Kirguis, and
had been received into the colleges founded
by Catherine the Second. They accompanied the funeral procession with tapers in
their hands, blending their voices with
those of the mourners ; while Elizabeth,
followingly slowly and in silence, her face
covered with a veil, appeared as chief
mourner, feeling no connexion, in the
midst of this tumultuous crowd, but with
him who was no more.
When the coffin was let down into the
grave, the pope who officiated, according
to the rites of the Greek church, put a

trials that await her."-Thus did she address her parents in the language of encouragement, as if they could behold her destitute situation : and when secret terror in
spite of herself stolein upon her soul, she
would again invoke their names, and in
repeating them her fears were dispelled.
" Oh, holy and now happy spirit," said
she, bending her head to the newly-remov.ed earth, "art thou then lost to us before
my beloved parents could express their gratitude, could invoke blessings on the kind
protector of their child ?"
When night began to obscure the horizon, and Elizabeth was obliged to quit this
melancholy spot; desirous to leave some
memorial behind her, she picked up a sharp
stone, and inscribed these words upon the
cross which was over the grave : The just
perisheth, and no man layeth it to heart ,
then bidding a final adieu tothe remains of
the poor missionary, she left the buryingground, and returned sorrowfully to her

ieaping

1

Isaiah, chap. lvii. verse I.

30

ELIZABETH;

OR,

This affecting appeal softened the heart
lonely apartment in the inn at Sarapol, in
which she had so dismally spent the pre- of one of the boatmen, who taking Eliz-.
beth by the hand, "Come," said he, "yoa
ceding night.
Next morning, when she was ready to are a good girl; I will endeavour to ferry
forward on her journey, the host gave you over : the fear of God, and the love of
set
her three rubles, assuring her at the same yourparents, guide your steps, and Heaven
time that it was all that remained of the will protect you." He then helped her
Elizabeth received into his boat, which he rowed half-way
missionary's purse.
them with emotions of gratitude and vene- over. Not being able to work it farther,
ration ; as if these riches, which she owed he took Elizabeth on his back; and walkto her protector, were sent from that heaven ing and leaping alternately over the masses
of which he was now an inhabitant. " Yes," of ice, attained, by the assistance of an oar,
exclaimed she, "my guide, my support, the opposite side of the Wolga, where he
your charity survives you ; and though you set her down in safety. Elizabeth expressare taken from me, that supports me ed her acknowledgments in the most animated terms her grateful heart could dicstill."
During her solitary route, Elizabeth's tate; and taking out her purse, which contears frequently flowed : every object re- tained now but two rubles and a few smaller
called the bitter recollection of the friend coins, offered a trifling reward for his sershe had lost : if a peasant or an inquisitive vices. " Poor child !" said the boatman,
traveller regarded her with impertinent cu- looking at the contents of her purse, " is
riosity, or interrogated her in accents of that all the money you have to defray the
rudeness, she missed the venerable pro- expenses of your journey from hence to
tector who had ensured respect: if, op- Petersburgh ? Then, believe me, that
pressed by weariness, she was obliged to Nicholas Sokoloff will not deprive you of a
seat herself on the road-side to rest, she single obol! No, rather will I add somedared not stop the empty sledge that passed, thing to your store; it will bring down a
fearing a refusal, accompanied perhaps by blessing upon me and my six little ones."
insult; besides, as she possessed but three So saying, he threw her a small piece of
rubles, she preserved that pittance careful- money, and called to her, as he returned to
ly to delay the period when she must have the boat, "May God watch over and prorecourse to accidental charity, and denied tect you, my child."
Elizabeth took up the little piece of
herself every superfluity. Thus was she
debarred from various little indulgences money; and regarding it with her eyes
the good missionary often procured her : filled with tears, said, " 1 will preserve you
she always selected out the meanest habita- for my father; thou wilt afford a proof
tion to demand a shelter, contenting her- that his prayers have been heard, and that
self with the most wretched accommoda- a paternal protection has been extended to
me every where."
tions and the coarsest food.
The atmosphere was clear, and the sky
Travelling by such slow degrees, she
could not reach Cassan till the beginning of serene; but the keen breezes of a northerOctober. A strong wind blowing from the ly wind chilled the air. After having
north-west had prevailed for several days, walked for four hours without stopping,
and had collected a quantity of ice upon Elizabeth's strength began to fail: no huthe Wol, which rendered the passage of man habitation presented itself to her; and
t
that river almost impracticable : it could she sought shelter a the foot of a hill, the
only be crossed by going partly in a boat rocky summit of which jutting over deon foot, leaping from one piece fended her from the wind. Near to this
and partly
of ice to another. Even the boatmen, who hill was an extensive forest of oaks; trees
were accustomed to this dangerous navi- which are not to be seen on the Asiatic
gation, would not undertake it but in con- side of the Wolga. Elizabeth knew not
sideration of a high reward; and no pas- what they were : though they had lost some
senger ventured to expose his life with of their foliage, yet their beauty was not
them in the attempt. Elizabeth, without so much diminished, and might still have
thinking of the danger, was going to enter excited admiration; but, noble as they
one of their boats, when they roughly push- were, Elizabeth could not view these Eued her away, declaring she could not be ropean productions with pleasure; they reallowed to cross till the river was entirely called too forcibly to her mind the immense
frozen over. She inquired the probable distance which separated her from her palapse of time before that event would take rents : she rather preferred the fir, which
a
place. On receiving the answer, " fortnight solaced that spot, where she had been rearat least," she determined to attempt the ed; which had so frequently yielded shade
passage at present. " In thename of Hea- to the days of her childhood, and under
ven, I conjure you," said she, in a tone of which, perhaps, herbeloved parents at that
the most earnest intreaty, "to assist me in instant reposed.
These reflections always brought tears
crossing the river. I come from beyond
Tobolsk, and am going to Petersburgh, to into her eyes : "Oh ! when shall I be
in behalf of my father, blessed again with beholding them !" she
petition the emperor
in
now an exile Siberia; and I have so lit- exclaimed; "when shall I hear the sound
tie money, that if I am obliged to remain of their voices; when return to their fond
a fortnight at Cassan, I shall not have a embraces ?" As she spoke, she stretched
kopeck left wherewith to continue my out her arms towards Cassan, the buildings
of which were still distinguishable in the
journey."

THE EXILES OF SIBERIA.
distant prospect ; and raised above the&
upon the summit of higl- rocks, the anciefit
fortress of the Chams of Tartary, presenting a view grand and picturesque.
In the course of her journey Elizabeth
often met with objects which affected her
compassionate heart in a scarcely inferior
degree to her own distress. Sometimes she
encountered wretches chained together,
who were condemned to work for life in
the mines of Nerozinsh, or to inhabit the
dreary coasts of Angara; at others, troops
of emigrants, destined to people the new
city building by the emperor's order on
the confines of China ; some on foot, others
on the cars which conveyed the animals,
poultry, and baggage. Notwithstanding
these were criminals, sentenced to a milder
doom for offences which might have been
tlsewhere punished with death, they did
hot fail to excite compassion in Elizabeth :
but, when she met exiles escorted by an
officer of state, whose noble mien traced to
her remembrance that of her father, she
could not forbear shedding tears over their
fate; and would sometimes approach respectfully to offer soothing consolation,
which often relieves the woes of the unhappy. Pity, alas ! was the only gift Elizabeth had to bestow: with that she soothed
the sorrows of those she overtook, and by
a return of pity must she now depend for
subsistence; for, on her arrival at Voldomir, she was forced to change her last
ruble. She had been nearly three months
on her journey from Serapol to Voldomir;
.but through the kind hospitality of the Russian peasants, who never take any payment
for milk and bread, her little treasure had
not been yet exhausted : but now all began
to fail; her feet were almost bare, and her
ragged dress ill defended her from a frigidity of atmosphere which had already
sunk the thermometer thirty degrees below the freezing point, and which increased
daily. The ground was covered with snow
more than two feet deep: sometimes it
congealed while falling, and appeared like
a shower of ice, so thick, that earth and
sky were equally concealed from the view;
at other times torrents of rain rendered the
roads almost impassable, or gusts of wind
arose so violent, that Elizabeth, to defend
herself from the rude assaults, was obliged
to dig a hole in the snow, covering her
head with large pieces of the bark of pinetrees, which she dexterously stripped off,
as she had seen done by the inhabitants of
Siberia.
One of these tempestuous hurricanes had
raised the snow in thick clouds, and created an obscurity so impenetrable, that Elizabeth, no longer able to discern the road,
and stumbling at every step, was obliged to
stop: she took refuge under a high rock,
to which she clung as firmly as she could,
-.o enable her to withstand the fury of a
storm which overthrew all around her.
Whilst she was in this perilous situation,
with her head bent down, a confused noise,
that appeared to issue from behind the spot
where she stood, raised her hope that a
better shelter might be procured. With

3t

difficulty she tottered round the rock, and
discovered a kibitki, which had been overturned and broken, and a hut at no great
distance : she hastened to demand entrance: an old woman opened the door;
and, struck at the wretchedness of her ap.
pearance, "My poor child," said she,
" from whence dost thou come, and why
are you wandering thus alone in this dreadfulweather?" To this interrogation Elizabeth made her usual reply; " I am come
from beyond Tobolsk, and am going to Petersburgh to solicit my father's pardon."
At these words, a man, who was sitting in
a dejected posture in a corner of the room
suddenly raised his head from between his
hands, and regarding Elizabeth with an
air of astonishment, exclaimed, " Is it possible that thou comest from so remote a
country, alone, in this state of distress, and
during this tempestuous season, to solicit
pardon for your father ?-Alas ! my poor
child would perhaps have done as much,
but the barbarians tore me from her arms,
leaving her in ignorance of my fate; she
knows not what is become of me; she can.
not plead for mercy ; no, never shall I behold her again-this afflicting thought will
kill me-separated for ever from my child,
I cannot live. Now, indeed, that I know
my doom," continued the unhappy father,
" I might inform her of it; I have written
a letter to her, but the carrier belonging to
this kibitki, who is returning to Riga, the
place of her abode, will not undertake the
charge of it without some small compensation, and I cannot offer the most trifling;
not a single kopeck do I possess; the barbarians have stripped me of every thing."
Elizabeth drew the last ruble out of her
pocket; and, blushing deeply at the insignificance of the trifle, asked in timid accents, as she presented it to the unfortunate
exile, If that would be enough ? He
pressed to his lips the generous hand held
forth to succour him, and hastened to make
a proposal to the carrier. Like to the
widow's mite, Heaven bestowed its blessing on the offering :-the carrier was satisfled, and took charge of the letter. Thus
did her noble sacrifice produce a fruit worthy of the heart of Elizabeth : it relieved
the agonized feelings of a parent, and carried consolation to the wounded bosom of a
child.
When the storm was abated, Elizabeth,
before she pursued her journey, embraced
the old woman, who had bestowed upon
her all the care and tenderness of a mother,
and said in a low voice, that she might not
be heard by the exile, "I have nothing left
to give; the blessing of my parents is the
only recompense I have to offer for your
kindness; it is the only treasure I possess."
-"
How !" interrupted the old woman
aloud. "My poor child, have you then
given away your all ?" Elizabeth coloured,
and looked down. The exile started from
his seat; and, raising his hands to heaven,
threw himself upon his knees before her
"Angel that thou art," he exclaimed,
"can I make no return to you, who have
thus bestowed your all upon me?" A knit

32

ELIZABETH;

lay upon the table : Elizabeth took it up,
and cutting off a lock of her hair, presented
it to him, saying, " Sir, as you are going
into Siberia, you will see the Governor of
Tobolsk; give him this, I beseech you,
and tell him, 'Elizabeth sends it to her parents;' he will perhaps permit this token
to convey to them the knowledge of their
child's existence."-" Your wish shall be
executed," answered the exile; " and if I
have my liberty in those deserts, of which
I am to be an inhabitant, I will seek out
the dwelling of your parents, that I may
tell them what their child has done for me
this day."
The prospect of conveying consolation to
her parents created far greater delight in
the soul of Elizabeth, than the offer of a
throne could have produced. She was bereft of all, except the little piece of money
given her by the boatman on the side of the
Wolga. She might fancy herself rich, for
the greatest felicity that wealth could have
procured had just fallen to her lot; she had
bestowed happiness on her fellow-creatures,
revived the desponding heart of a father,
and converted tears of bitter sadness, shed
by the orphan, into those of soothing consolation: such blessings could a single
ruble produce from the hand of benevolence.
From Voldomir to the village of Pokroff,
the road lies through fenny low lands, interspersed with extensive forests of oak,
elms, aspins, and wild apples. These different trees thus intermixed, present, during
summer, a beautiful prospect, but afford an
asylum to numerous banditti, who infest
the roads : in winter, as the boughs, despoiled of their foliage, yield but a bad ambush, these bands of robbers are less formidable. Elizabeth, however, during her
journey, heard repeated accounts of plunders that had been committed. Had she
been worth any thing to lose, these narrations might have been a source of terror;
but, obliged to beg her daily bread, poverty
was her passport, as a shield defended her,
and enabled her to traverse these forests in
security.
A few versts from Pokroff the high-road
had been swept away by a hurricane, and
travellers, proceeding to- Moscow, were
forced to make a considerable circuit
through swamps occasioned by the inundations of the Wolga; these were now hardened by the frost to a solidity equal to
dry land. - Elizabeth attempted to follow
the route which had been pointed out to
her ; but, after walking for more than an
hour over this icy desert, through which
were no traces of a road, she found herself
in a swampy marsh, from which every endeavour to extricate herself was exerted
for a long time in vain : at length, with
great difficulty, she attained a little hillock,
Covered with mud, and exhausted with fatigue, she seated herself upon a stone to
rest, and emptied her sandals to dry them
in the sun, which at that moment shone in
its full lustre. The environs of this spot
appeared to be perfectly desolate ; no signs
of a human dwelling were visible; solitude

OR,

silence prevailed around. Elizabeth
rceived she must have strayed far from
the road; and, notwithstanding all the
courage with which she was endued, her
heart failed: her situation was alarming
in the extreme; behind was the bog she
had just crossed, and before her an immense forest through which no track was
to be distinguished.
At length. day began to close; and, notwithstanding her extreme weariness, Eliza.
beth was forced to proceed in search of a
shelter for the night, or some being, who
might have the humanity toprocureherone.
In vain did she wander about, sometimes following one track, then another : no object
presented itself to revive her hopes, no
sound re-animated her drooping spirits;
that of a human voice would have occasioned her the greatest joy ; when suddenly that of several people struck her ear, and
in another moment several men emerged
from the forest : strengthened by hope, she
hastened towards them; but as they drew
near, terror again succeeded to joy; their
savage air and stern countenances dismayed
her to a still greater degree than the horrors of the solitude in which she had so
All the stories she
lately been plunged.
had heard of the banditti who infested that
neighbourhood immediately returned to
her imagination, and she feared that a
judgment awaited her for the temerity with
which she had indulged the idea that a special Providence watched over her preservation ; and fell upon her knees to humble
herself in the presence of Divine Justice.
The troop advanced : stopped before Elizabeth : and regarding her with surprise
and curiosity, demanded from whence she
came, and what accident had brought her
there. With a fluttering voice and downcast eyes the terrified Elizabeth replied,
that she came from beyond Tobolsk, and
that she was going to solicit from the emperor a pardon for her father : she added,
that having missed the road, she was near
perishing in the marshes, from which danger she had escaped with difficulty, and
had been obliged to rest a long while to recover strength, to enable her to proceed in
search of lodging for the night. Her
interrogators appeared astonished : ques.
tioned her again, and asked what money
she had to undertake so long a journey.
Elizabeth drew out the little coin given her
by the boatman on the Wolga, and showed
it to them. " Is that all ?" they exclaimed.
-" All !" she replied. At this answer,
delivered with a candour that enforced belief, the robbers looked at each other
with amazement; they were not moved, they were not softened; rendered callous by long habits of vice, an action of
such noble heroism as that of Elizabeth's
had no such influence over their souls, but
it excited wonder : they could not comprehend what they felt necessitated to believe;
and, restrained by a kind of veneration,
they could not disturb the object of Heaven's evident protection ; so passing on,
said to each other, " Let us leave her;
some supernatural Power guards her."

t

THE EXILES OF SIBERIA.
Elizabeth rose and hurried from them.
She had not penetrated far into the forest
before four roads, crossing each other, presented themselves to her view. In one of
the angles which they formed was a little
chapel dedicated to the Virgin, and over it,
upon the four sides of a post, were inscribed the names of the towns to which the different roads led. Elizabeth prostrated
herself to offer up her grateful acknowledgments to the Omnipotent Being who preserved her : the robbers were not mistaken
-she was protected by a supernatural
Power.
Hope had restored to Elizabeth all her
strength, and she entered again on the
"oad to Pokroff with her usual activity:
she soon regained the Wolga, which forms
an angle before this village, and washes the
of a monastery. Elizabeth hastened
to solicit shelter under this venerable roof:
she related the hardships she had undergone, and disclosed to the community how
much she stood in need of hospitality.
The nuns received her with cordiality, and
lavished upon her the most affectionate at.
tentions. Their kind solicitude reminded
her of those endearments she was wont in
former days to receive from her mother.
The simple and modest recital Elizabeth
gave of her adventures proved a source of
edification to the whole community : her
pious auditors could not find
words to express the admiration they felt at that hero.
it perseverance which had endured so many
hardships, sustained so many severe trials,
without a murmur : they lamented their
inability to assist her with money for supplying some of the expenses of her journey,
for their convent was very poor: no revenue was attached to it, and all their dependance was on accidental charity. They
could not, however, let their guest depart
in ragged dress, and nearly barefoot : to
provide her with better habiliments they
stripped themselves, and each gave her a
portion of her own clothing. Elizabeth
endeavoured to decline the gifts : for it was
of necessaries her generous benefactresses
deprived themselves : but pointing to the
walls of the convent, they said, " We have
a shelter while you have none; part of the
little we possess belongs to you, for you are
poorer still than we."
At length Elizabeth set forward on the
last stage to Moscow; she was astonished
at the extraordinary bustle she now witnessed at the immense concourse of car.
riages, carts, horses, and people of all ranks
and ages, which was resorting to this great
metropolis: as she passed onward, the
crowd seemed to augment. In the village
where she stopped to rest, all the houses
were filled with strangers, who paid so high
for the smallest lodging, that it was with
the greatest difficulty the destitute Elizaboth could procure the most wretched.
She could not refrain from shedding tears,
as she received from the scornful hand of
pity a little coarse food, and the shelter ofa
shed, so miserable, that it scarcely excluded the falling snow. But she was not huniliated : she did not forget that Heaven

Walls

33

looked down with approbation on her sa.
crifices, and that the restoration of happi.
ness to her parents might be their reward.
Neither did she feel exalted : too artless to
think she did more than duty prescribed in
devoting herself for their sakes, and too affectionate not to feel a secret satisfaction in
suffering for them.
The bells of all the adjacent villages were
ringing, and from every side resounded the
name of Alexander, accompanied by loud
acclamations of joy. Thereport of the can.
non from Moscow quite alarmed Elizabeth,
for never before had a sound so tremendous
struck her ears. In a timid voice she inquired the cause of a group of persons in
rich liveries whom she overtook surrounding a broken carriage : "Doubtless it is the
entrance of the emperor into Moscow,"
they replied.-" How!" exclaimed the
astonished Elizabeth, " is not the emperor
then at Petersburgh ?" They raised their
eyes in pity and contempt of her igno.
rance, as they retorted, " Why, did you
not know that the Emperor Alexander was
coming to celebrate his coronation at Mos.
cow ?" Elizabeth clasped her hands in
an
ecstacy. Heaven again in an especial man.
ner evinced itself in her favour : the Omni.
potent sent the sovereign to meet her, upon
whom the fate of her parents depended;
and ordained that she should arrive at that
period of general joy, when the hearts of
monarchs recede even from the dictates of
justice, in favour of those of clemency.
" My parents," she cried, looking back towards home from which sogreat a distance
separated her, "must such delightfulhopes
rejoice my heart alone ? and while your
child is happy, must you grieve in ignorance of her fate?"
In the month of March, in the year 1801,
Elizabeth made her entrance into the extensive capital of Muscovy, imagining herself at the end ofher labours, and not considering that there could be still a calamity
to apprehend. On her progress through
the town, superb structures, decorated with
the magnificence of royalty, presented
themselves to her admiring sight, but intermixed with wretched cabins, whose untiled roofs and broken casements afforded
no shelter from the inclemency of the weather. The streets and alleys of Moscow
were so thronged, that Elizabeth could
scarcely proceed through the crowds that
obstructed the passage. After some time
she found herself in meadows richly planted, and began to imagine she was again in
the country; she stopped torest in a grand
avenue formed by rows of birch-trees,
which bear a resemblance to the lindentrees of Prussia. An immense assemblage
of well-dressed people thronged this avenue,
all conversing on the subject of the coronation; trains of carriages passed backwards
and forwards, which jarring continually
against one another, caused an incessant
clatter ; the enormous bells of the cathedral rang incessantly; they were answered
by those of the smaller churches from all
parts of the town ; the sound of the can.
non, which was fired at regular intervals

34

ELIZABETH;

could scarcely be distinguished amidst the
overpowering tumult of this prodigious
city. As Elizabeth drew near to the square
of the Cremelines, the crowd appeared to
increase at every step she took : she approached timidly to one of the great fires
which were lighted on this spot, and seat.
ed herself in a corner of it. Cold, weariness, and want of food, had exhausted her
spirits ; and the joyful hopes of the morning were converted into sadness. She had
wandered through the numerous streets of
Moscow ; but among the splendid habitations she had beheld none had offered to
her an asylum : she had met people of various nations and degrees, but had looked
in vain for a friend or protector ; some
had inquired their way, but expressed uneasiness at having missed it: how much
did she envy their lot ! "Happy," said
she, "to have a home to seek: I, who
possess none, cannot lose my way : for in
every place is shelter equally denied me."
Night now rapidly approached, and the
cold was intense: the dejected Elizabeth
had not eaten a morsel the whole day, and
was nearly famished with hunger and the
inclemency of the weather; she watched
all who passed, to see whether she could
discern in their countenances that expression of compassionate benevolence which
might embolden her to make an appeal to
their feelings : but among that crowd, every
individual of which she observed so earnestly, no one stood in need of her assistance, V'erefore they had no interest in contemplating her wo-worn countenance. At
last she ventured to solicit an entrance at
the doors of some of the poorest dwellings;
but met with rude repulse. The hope of
gain, during this period of festivity, had
steeled all hearts against the importunities
of distress, and withheld the donations of
charity ;-never is mankind less inclined to
liberality than at the moment of acquiring
an increase of wealth.
Elizabeth returned to the fire in the
square of the Cremelines, to weepin silence:
her heart was so full that she had not
strength to eat a small piece of brown bread
which an old woman, who had taken some
pity on her wretchedness, had bestowed,
She was now, for the first time, reduced to
thatdegree of misery, which compelled her
to hold forth her hand to any casual passenger, to implore an alms that might be
carelessly granted, or refused perhaps with
contempt. At the moment that she had
resolved to try this last resource, an emotion of dignified pride detained the hand
she had presented; but the cold wag excessive : in spending the night exposed to the
open air her life would be endangered, and
that life she did not consider in her own
right of disposaL This reflection overcame
her spirits. With one hand placed across
her eyes, she stretched out the other to the
passenger, saying, "In the name of the
father whom you revere, of the mother
whom you cherish, give me a trifle to procure a lodging for the night." The man
to whom she addressed herself examined
her with curiosity and surprise by the light

OR,

of the flame. " Young girl," said lh, " you
follow a bad trade; cannot you work ? At
your age a livelihood might be easily gained
God help you ! I never encourage beggars."
He went away.
The unfortunate Elizabeth raised het
eyes to Heaven, as if in search of a friend
An inspiration of hope reanimated het
sinking courage : again she ventured to
repeat her appeal to the compassion of se.
veral who passed : some did not listen to
it, others gave so small an alms that she
could not collect enough to relieve her necessities. At last, when night was far advanced,
j the crowd dispersed, and the fire nearly
extinguished, some of the guards attending the emperor, in making their rounds,
discovered Elizabeth, and roughly demanded why she remained abroad at that hour.
The stern looks and fierce manners of these
soldiers overpowered her with terror; and,
incapacitated from uttering a syllable, she
burst into an agony of tears. The soldiers,
little affected at seeing her weep, assembled round her, repeating their question
with rude familiarity. The trembling girl
at last recovering sufficient courage to an.
swer, in a voice broken with sobs said, that
she came from beyond Tobolsk, to petition
the emperor for her father. "I have performed the whole journey on foot," continued she; "and as I have no money I
cannot obtain a shelter for the night." At
these words the soldiers burst into a laugh,
taxing her tale with falsehood. Elizabeth,
more terrified than ever, sought to escape:
but they would not suffer it, and insolently
seized her. "Oh, my God ! oh, my fa.
ther !" she cried in accents of horror and
despair, "will you not come to my succour ?
have you forsaken the wretched Elizabeth 2" During this scene, some persons,
attracted by the noise, and who had assembled in groups, murmured indignantly at
the cruelty of the soldiers. Elizabeth
stretched out her hands, in act of supplication towards them, exclaiming, "Before
Heaven, I solemnly protest I have uttered
nothing but truth: I come from beyond
Tobolsk, to implore pardon for my father :
save me, oh save me ; let me not die, at least
till I have obtained it." This moving appeal affected her auditors. Several advanced to her rescue; and one of them,
addressing the soldiers, said, "I keep the
inn known by the sign of St. Basil in this
square; let the young girl come with me;
her storyappears to me tobe true; and I will
give her a lodging." The soldiers, who
had begun to be a little softened by her extreme distress, consented to this request.
and withdrew.
The grateful Elizabeth embraced the
knees of her preserver : he raised her kind,
ly; and, desiring her to follow him, led the
way to his dwelling, which was at a little
distance. " I have not a room to give
you," said he; "there is not one in my
house unoccupied: but my wife will receive you into hers foi one night; she is
kind and compassionate, and will readily
endure so small an inconvenience to serve
you." Elizabeth, trembling and agitated,

THE EXILES OF SIBERIA.
ftlowed in silence. Her guide conducted
her to a small room on the ground-floor, in
which a young woman, with an infant in
her arms, was seated near a stove: she
rose on their entrance. Her husband immediately gave an account of the dangerous situation from which he had extricated
his companion; adding, that he had offered, in his wife's name, a night's hospitality
to the destitute stranger. The young
woman confirmed the offer; and, taking
Elizabeth by the hand, said with a smile of
encouragement, " Be comforted, we will
take good care of you ; but be careful never
to stay out so late again; in large towns,
such as this, and at your age, it is very
dangerous to be found at a late hour in the
streets." Elizabeth answered, that she had
no asylum to resort to; every door had
been shut against her. She owned her
poverty without a blush, and related all the
hardships she had so heroically encountered, without a feeling of vanity. Her hosts
wept at the recital; neither of them
thought of doubting her veracity; the
emotions which her story excited afforded
a proof that it was true. The classes of societyto which they belonged are not so
easily misled by brilliant fictions ; these
soar beyond their capacities; while over
their souls, truth, in all its purity, preserves
its claims entire.
At the conclusion of her narrative, Jagues Rossi (the name of the host) said,
My influence in this town is but small;
but as far as it could be exerted for my own
interest, it shall be for yours." His wife
pressed his hand in token of approbation ;
and asked Elizabeth if she knew no one
who could present her to the emperor.
" No," she replied, not wishing to mention
young Smoloff, for fear of involving him in
some difficulty : besides no actual assistance could be expected from him, since he
was in Livonia. "Well," answered the
wife of Jaques Rossi, "the most powerful
recommendation to our great sovereign
is virtue in distress, and that will plead
for you."-" Yes," interrupted her husband, "The Emperor Alexander is to be
crowned to-morrow in the church of the
Assumption; you must place yourself in
his way, and at his feet solicit the remission of your father's sentence. I will accompany and encourage you."-" Oh, my
generous benefactors l" exclaimed Elizabeth, clasping her hands with an expression of the liveliest gratitude; "Heaven
beholds your kindness, and my parents will
invoke blessings on you for it; on you who
will conduct me to the feet of the emperor,
and support me in his presence-perhaps
you will be witnesses of my happiness-of
the greatest happiness a human being is
capable of enjoying. If it is granted me to
obtain this pardon for my father, to be the
joyful bearer of the happy tidings to him
and to my mother, to behold their delight
-"
She could say no more; the bare idea of
such felicity almost forbade the hope that
it might be realized: she could not believe
that her deserts entitled her to expect it.

35

The panegyrics which her host, however,
bestowed upon the clemency of Alexander,
the various anecdotes they recorded in evi.
dence of the truth, upon which these com.
mendations were founded, and the grace
with which the value of those acts of mercy had been enhanced, re-animated her
spirits. Elizabeth listened to them with
eagerness; she would gladly have spent the
whole night in hearing them repeated; but,
as it grew late, her kind hosts wished her
to enjoy some repose, that she might be
enabled to support the exertions of the
morrow. Jaques Rossi retired to a small
garret at the top of the house, while his
wife received Elizabeth into her own apartment.
A long time elapsed before the perturbation of her mind would admit of sleep: but
she was thankful to Heaven even for her
sufferings, since the excess of them had
heightened the value of the generous relief
she had experienced: " Had I been less
miserable," thought she, "Jaques Rossi,
perhaps would not have taken pity on me."
When sleep at length overtook her, visions
of happiness in various forms flitted before
her. Sometimes fancypresentedherparents,
their countenances irradiate with joy ;
sometimes she imagined the voice of the
emperor, addressing her in terms of approbation and compliance with her entreaties;
and sometimes another form presented itself to her imagination, but under characters more vague and indistinct; a mist
seemed to obscure it from her sight, and
the impression it had left upon her heart
was the only trace that remained.
On the morrow, as soon as the thunder
of the artillery, the beating of the drums,
and loud acclamations of the people, announced the dawn of that joyful day, on
which the ceremony of the Emperor Alexander's coronation was to be celebrated,
Elizabeth, habited in a dress lent her byher
kind hostess, and leaning upon the arm of
Jaques Rossi, mixed among the throng
that crowded to the large church of the Assumption, in which the coronation was to
be performed.
Upwards of a thousand tapers illuminat.
ed the holy temple, which was decorated
in all the splendour of eastern magnificence. Upon a dazzling throne, under a
canopy of rich velvet, were seated the emperor and his youthful consort, habited in
sumptuous dresses, which, displaying to
advantage the beauty of their forms, gave
to their appearance an air almost celestial.
Kneeling before her august spouse, the
empress received from his hand the imperial diadem, and encircled her brow with
this pledge of their eternal union. Opposite to this royal pair, in the sacred chair
of truth, was the venerable Plato, the patriarch of Moscow; who, in a discourse at
once pathetic and sublime, recalled to
Alexander's youthful mind the great duties
annexed to royalty, and the awful respon.
sibility imposed upon his elevated station,
in return for the pomp that environed it,
and the power with which it was invested.
Amidst the assemblage of nations that
K

36

ELIZABETH; OR,

thronged the cathedral, he pointed out the her ; Smoloff, who could supplicate with
hunters of Kamtscatka, bringing tributes her, and obtain the pardon she so earnest.
of skins from the Thurile Isles, which ly desired: nevertheless, when he spoke,
border on America; the merchants of the sound of his voice confirmed the eviArchangel, loaded with rich commodities dence of her eyes; she could no longer
which their vessels had brought from every doubt; joy deprived her of utterance,
quarter of the globe; the Samoyeds, a rude and she stretched her arms towards him,
and unpolished people, who come from the, as to a messenger sent from Heaven to her
mouth of the Jeniffer, a country condemn- relief. He rushed forward, seized her
ed to the rigours of an eternal winter, hand, and in his turn began to doubt the
where the beauteous flower of the spring, testimony of his senses. " Elizabeth!" he
and the rich produce of harvest are alike exclaimed, " is it indeed you ? or do I beunknown : and the natives of Astracand, hold a vision from Heaven ? Speak !
From Tobolsk."
whose fertile fields yield melons, figs, and whence do you come ?"--"
grapes of an excellent flavour : he showed -" From Tobolsk ! And hast thou trahim, lastly, the inhabitants of the shores of velled hither, dlone, on foot ?"-" Yes,"
the Black and Caspian Seas, and of the she exclaimed, " I came alone, on foot, to
Great Tartary ; which, bounded by Persia, entreat pardon for my father; and they
China, and the empire of the Moguls ex- force me from the presence of the empertending from the extremity of the western or."-" I will re-conduct you to his prehemisphere to that of the east, takes in al- sence, Elizabeth," interrupted the transmost half of the globe, and nearly touches ported Smoloff; "I will present you to
either pole. " Sovereign of the most exten- him : he cannot resist your supplications ?
He then
sive empire of the earth," said he, " who your prayer will be granted."
art this day to take the awful oath of pre- dispersed the soldiers, and led Elizabeth
siding over the destinies of a state which back towards the church. The imperial
includes a fifth part of the known world, procession was at that instant issuing from
bear it ever in remembrance, that you have the great gate of the cathedral. As soon
to answer at the tribunal of Divine Justice as the newly-anointed monarch appeared,
for the fate of millions of your fellow-crea- Smoloff, hblding Elizabeth by the hand,
tures; and that an injustice done to the forced a passage through the guards, and
meanest among them, through your negli- threw himself with her at the emperor's
gence, must be accounted for on the final feet : " Sire," he cried, "vouchsafe to lis.
The young emperor ten to the voice of suffering Virtue; beday of retribution."
appeared deeply affected at this.discourse. hold the daughter of the unfortunate StanThere was one among the auditors whose islaus Potowsky, who has come from the
where her parents have
heart was not less profoundly moved,-the deserts of Ischim,
supplicant come to solicit the pardon of a languished out twelve years exile; alone,
of
unprotected, she has existed upon charity;
father.
At the moment that Alexander began to and, braving the united opposition of popronounce the solemn oath which was to verty, insult, and tempests, is come to
bind him to devote his future life to the your feet to implore forgiveness for her
happiness of his people, the enraptured father."
Elizabeth raised her clasped hands toElizabeth imagined she heard the voice of
mercy requiring him to break the chains of wards heaven, repeating the last words,
every unfortunate being within his domi- " Forgiveness for my father!" A clamour
nions. Unable any longer to command of admiration arose from among the crowd !
her feelings, assisted by a supernatural, the emperor himself joined in it: and,
strength, she pierced the crowd; and, deeply rooted as his prejudices had been
forcing a passage through the lines of the against Stanislaus Potowsky, in an instant
soldiers, rushed towards the throne, ex. they were totally effaced: he could not
claiming, " Mercy ! mercy !" This out- hesitate to believe that the father of a
cry, which interrupted the ceremony, cre- daughter so virtuous must be innocent of
ated a general commotion throughout the the crimes alleged against him : but had it
cathedral. The guards advanced, and, not- been otherwise Alexander could not have
withstanding her entreaties, and the efforts withheld forgiveness. "The pardon is
of Jaques, they dragged Elizabeth out of the granted !" said he ; "your father is free."
church. The emperor, however, would not, Elizabeth heard no more; at the words of
on such a glorious day, be invocated in vain : pardon, joy overpowered her, and she fell
he ordered one of the officers of his suite to senseless into the arms of Smoloff. In this
inquire what the petitioner wanted. The state she was carried through immense
officer obeyed; and, on quitting the church, crowds of the populace, (who opened a pasheard the imploring accents of the agoniz- sage, shouting with joyful acclamations of
ing supplicant, still endeavouring to pre- approbation at the transcendent virtue of
vail upon the soldiers to allow her to re- the heroine, and the clemency of the moturn. He started : then rushing impetu- narch,) and was conveyed to the house of
ously through the guards, beheld her, Jaques Rossi.
The first object that met her eyes upon
knew her, and clasping his hands together,
exclaimed, " It is she ! It is Elizabeth !" recovering her senses was Smoloff, kneeling
Elizabeth turned ; and knew not whether beside her ; the first sound she heard was
she might believe she was so fortunate as a repetition from his lips of the words used
to see her former friend: she could not by the emperor, when he accorded pardon:
persuade herself that Smoloff was before " Elizabeth, the pardon is granted; your

THE EXILES OF SIBERIA.
father is at liberty." For some minutes it
was by looks only that she could express
her joy and gratitude ; but they expressed
more than language could have imparted.
At length, turning to Smoloff, she pro.
nounced, in a faltering voice, the names of
her father and mother; " We shall behold
them again then !" said she : "we shall
enjoy the sight of their happiness!" These
words sunk deep into the heart of him, to
whom theywere addressed. Elizabeth had
not said she loved him, but she had associated him with the first sentiment of her
soul, with that object of felicity, in which
her ideas and hopes had so long centred.
From that happy moment he ventured to
indulge the hope, that she would, on a future day, consent to ratify the union she
had thus involuntarily made.
Several days elapsed before the deed of
pardon could be drawn up and signed.
Previous to its final accomplishment, it
was requisite in the first instance to take a
review of the causes of Stanislaus Potowsky's condemnation : and this investigation
proved so very favourable to the noble Po.
lander, that Alexander was convinced that
equity alone ought to have broken the
chains of the illustrious patriot; but hehad
listened to the dictates of clemency before
he knew what those of justice required ;an act of generosity which those, whom
he had thus nobly pardoned, never forgot.
One morning Smoloff entered Elizabeth's
apartment earlier than usual : he presented
her with a scroll of parchment sealed with
the imperial signet. " Behold," said he,
" the mandate, in which the emperor commands my father to restore yours to liberty." Elizabeth seized the scroll, and, pressing it to her lips, bathed it with tears.
" This is not all," continued Smoloff, " our
magnanimous sovereign performs a noble ac.
tion in a manner worthy of himself : with
liberty, he likewise restores to your father
all his dignities, the high rank he formerly
held, and all his large possessions, honours,
and wealth, sources of the grandeur which
exalts mankind in general, but can have no
influence over the superior soul of Elizabeth. The courier who is to convey the
order to my father departs to-morrow, and
I have obtained leave of the emperor to
accompany him."-" And may I not like.
wise accompany him ?" eagerly interrupted Elizabeth. "You may," resumed
Smoloff; "and from your lips only your father must lear that he is free. Presuming
upon my knowledge of your sentiments, I
told the emperor that it was your wish to
be the bearer ofthejoyful intelligenceyourself: he approved the design, and charged me with the commission of informing
you, that you have leave to depart to.morrow in one of his carriages, attended by two
female domestics; and he sends a purse of
two thousand rubles to defray the expenses
of your journey."
Before Elizabeth returned an answer, she regarded Smoloff
some moments with an air of reflection ;
then addressing him in a tone expressive
ef her feelings, "Since the first day I saw

37

you," said she, "no favourable circum
stance has forwarded my enterprise of
which you were not the instigator with
out your assistance, I could not have ob
tained my father's pardon ; without your
generous interference, never would he have
beheld his country again: to you then it
belongs to tell him he is free : this glorious recompense alone is adequate to your
benefits."-" No, Elizabeth," replied Smoloff, " that happiness must be yours ; the
recompense which I aspire to is greater
still."-" Oh, Heaven !" exclaimed Elizabeth, "what can that be ?" Smoloff was
on the point of answering in terms expressive of the rapture he felt; but, repressing his emotion, he coloured, and looked
down : an interval of silence ensued ; at
length, in a faltering voice Smoloff answered-" Elizabeth, I must not tell you
but in the presence of your father."
Smoloff, having now recovered his Eliza
beth, did not allow a single day to pass
without spending part of it in her company.
His love increased every hour : but never
for an instant did he deviate from that respect and reserve which he felt, at present,
to be her due. At such a distance from
her parents she looked to him alone for
protection : and the valuable deposit, thus
intrusted to his charge, he considered as so
sacred, that he could not have prevailed
upon himself to utter a sentiment that had
the least tendency to excite the smallest
emotion either in her countenance or
heart.
During the long journey they had to perform, he preserved the same respectful silence. Constantly seated by her, beholding her, hearing her, his passion continued
to increase, but never overcame his resolution. He bestowed upon her always the
appellation of sister ; and though his attentions were more assiduous than those of
the fondest brother, they were not less innocent : they were most calculated to inspire confidence in the most scrupulous delicacy, and must have satisfied expectations
the most unbounded. His sentiments were
only perceptible in the attempts he made to
hide them; friendship seemed to prompt
all he uttered ; in his silence alone could
love be discovered.
Before she quitted Moscow, Elizabeth liberally rewarded her generous hosts : and
as she recrossed the Wolga, before Cassan,
she did not forget her friend, the boatman
Upon inquiry after him, she was informed,
that in consequence of an accident he had
been reduced to the greatest distress, and
was lying in a garret, surrounded by six
children, in the want of bread. Elizabeth
requested to be immediately conducted to
his habitation. When he saw her formerly, it was in poverty, in dejection, and
clothed in rags ; now that he beheld her
in splendour,with joy and animation sparkling in her eyes, and diffusing a brilliancy
over her whole figure, he did not remember
her. Elizabeth took out of her purse the
little coin which he had given her, and,
showing it to him, brought to his memory
the act of kindness he had performed :

K2

a3

ELIZABETH; OR,

then, laying a hundred rubles upon his
bed, she added, " Charity fails not to reap
its reward. Behold what you gave me in
the name of God, Heaven now returns an
hundred-fold."
Elizabeth was so eager to meet her parents, that she travelled night and day.
On her arrival at Sarapol, notwithstanding
her haste, she stopped to visit the tomb of
the missionary : as this was a tribute of
grateful veneration, almost equivalent to
an act of filial duty, Elizabeth could not
let it pass unfulfilled. She beheld once
more the cross, with the inscription she
had engraven upon it: again did she weep
over the grave whereshe had formerly shed
so many bitter tears; but those she now
shed were of a soothing consolation: she
imagined, that in that celestial paradise,
of which he was now a blessed inhaoitant,
the missionary partook of her felicity : and
that in his soul, so full of benevolence, her
happiness still added to that which he enjoyed in the bosom of his God.
But as I am desirous of bringing my tale
to a conclusion, and, with Elizabeth, to
reach the dwelling where the da,ys of her
absence were numbered with such anxiety,
I will not attempt a description of the
scene of joy exhibited at Tobolsk, when
young Smoloff presented Elizabeth to his
father; and she, in all the effusions of her
grateful heart, acknowledged the blessings
she owed to his assistance. Elizabeth would
not consent to let her parents be informed
of her approach : she heard at Tobolsk that
they were well, which was still further
confirmed at Saimka; arid, wishing to give
them an agreeable surprise, with a palpitating heart she proceeded to their cottage,
attended only by SmolofE What varying
emotions agitated her as she crossed the
forest, drew near the banks of the lake,
and recognized every tree, every rock, adjacent to the habitation of her parents ! At
last she caught sight of the parental roof:
she rushed forward; but the violence of
her feelings obliged her to stop. Alas ! behold the state of human nature ! we seek
for happiness in excess of joy; which excess, more violent in its effects than that of
misery, we are not able to bear. Elizabeth,
leaning upon the arm of Smoloff, faintly
uttered, ' If I should findmy mother ill?"
The idea of such a calamity tempered the
felicity that overwhelmed her, and recovered all her strength.
Again she
rushes on, reaches the threshold, hears the
sound of a well-known voice, and calls her
parents in an ecstacy that almost deprives
her of sense: the door opens, Stanislaus
appears : at the cry he utters, Phedora
rushes forward; and Elizabeth, unable to
support herself, falls into their extended
arms. "Behold your child!" exclaimed
Smoloff, "and in her the bearer of your
bardon: she has triumphed over every
obstacle, and has attained even more than
she expected from the generosity of the
emperor." These words added nothing to
the joy of the delighted parents : every
sensation was absorbed in that all-powerful
one of happiness-the sight of their child

; prod aced : she is restored to them; she a
never to leave them; this was to them the
greatest blessing on earth. For a length of
time they remained in a delirium of joy
that can admit of no increase: a few unconnected sentences escaped from their
lips, but they knew not what they uttered:
in vain did they seek for words to express
the feelings that overpowered their senses;
by tears and looks only could they make
them understood; and their strength, as
well as their reason, began to fail under
excess of joy.
Smoloff prostrated himself at the feet of
Stanislaus and Phedora. " Ah " he exclaimed, "condescend, in this moment of
bliss, to regard me also as your child. Hitherto, Elizabeth has condescended to distinguish me by the affectionate name of
brother; but now, perhaps, she will permit
me to aspire after a title still more endearing."
Elizabeth seized the hand of each of her
parents, and regarding them with looks of
thetenderest affection, thus spoke: "Without the aid of M. Smoloff I should not
perhaps have been here: it was he who
conducted me into the presence of the emperor ; who advocated my cause; who solicited your forgiveness, and who obtained
it : it is he who has been so zealously instrumental in restoring you to your rights,
and who has reconducted me to the bosom
of my beloved parents. Oh, my mother,
instruct me how to convince him of my
gratitude ! Teach me, oh my father, how
to requite it !" Phedora, embracing her
daughter, answered, "You must convince him of your gratitude by bestowing upon him your love; a love like that
which you have seen me bear your fa.
ther."
Stanislaus, interrupting her, exclaimed in an accent of enthusiasm, " Oh
my Phedora, who can appreciate the gift of
a heart like thine! It is above all value.
But on such an occasion as this, the generosity of our Elizabeth cannot be too great."
Our heroine, upon this, uniting the hand
of Smoloff with those of her parents, said
to him, with a look of the most fascinating
innocence and modest timidity, "Will you
then promise me-never to leave them ?"
-"
Oh Heaven," he exclaimed, "am I
awake? Her parents give her to me, and
she consents to be mine !" His rapture
was such as to deprive him of further utterance: and, such was the enthusiasm of
his love, that at this moment he could
scarcely imagine there was, in the disposal
of Heaven, a happiness more unmingled
ann supreme than that he now enjoyed.
The transports of the mother in again beholding her chid; the exultation of the
father, who owed the recovery of his liberty to the unprecedented efforts and magnanimity of his daughter; even the inexpressible satisfaction of Elizabeth herself,
who had already fulfilled the most sacred
of human duties, and who had evinced a
virtue unparalleled,-did not, in the estimation of Smoloff, appear in any degree
comparable to the happiness for which he
v'as indebted to love

THE EXILES OF SIBERIA.
Were I to attempt a description of the
days that followed, I would represent the
fond parents informing their child of all the
apprehensions, alarms, and anguish, they
had felt during her long absence; I would
represent them listening, with the alternate
emotions of hope and fear, to the recital
she gave of the diversified adventures of her
long and perilous journey ; I would recount
the blessings which her father invoked on
all who had been the friends and protectors
of his child, and show the tender Phedora
exhibiting the lock of hair sent by Elizabeth,
which she wore next her heart, and which
enabled her to divert the painful solicitude
of many a tedious hour; I should attempt
to convey to my readers some idea of their
feelings on that day when the exile, who
brought it, presented himself at tnh noor of
the cottage, to inform them how greatly he
was indebted to the generosity of their
daughter; I should endeavour to paint
the grief excited by the narrative of her
sufferings, and the joy which they felt upon
the recital of her viitues: and, finally, I
would describe their departure from their
rustic habitation and from the land of exile, where they had encountered so many
evils, but where they had likewise experienced the greatest happiness, enhanced by
the sorrows which had preceded it, and by
the tears which its acquisition had cost
them;-like the sun, whose rays are never
more vivid and refreshing than when they
penetrate the vapours which envelope
m, and reflect their bright beams upon

39

the fields and foliage bespangled with
dew.
Pure and spotless almost as the angels
who environ the throne of the Omnipotent,
Elizabeth was destined to participate on
earth a happiness resembling theirs, and
like them to live in innocence and love.
Here I shall conclude : for when repre
sentations of human happiness are prolonged beyond a certain period, they be.
come fatiguing, because they become unlikely; and the moment we lose sight of the
probability, the narrative ceases to interest
us: for we all know from experience, that
a perpetuity of bliss is not the lot of huinanity; and even language, so copious
and varied in its expression of sorrow, is
poor and inadequate in the delineation of
joy-One day of felicity is sufficient to exhaust every demonstration of happiness.
I have restored Elizabeth to her parents;
by them she is conducted into Poland, the
place of her nativity, and reinstated in the
exalted rank occupied by her ancestorsBy them she is united to the man she prefers-to the man whom even they esteem
worthy of her. Here then let us close,
and leave her completely happy : for were
I to add one page more to my story, I
should be apprehensive, from my own
knowledge of the vicissitudes of human
life, from the crosses, the fallacious hopes,
and fugacious as well as chimerical felicity
which mark its tenor,-that I should have
come misfortune to recount; since tempor.
at happiness can never be of long duration.

PAUL

AND VIRGINIA;
AND THlE

INDIAN COTTAGE:

FROM THE FRENCH

OF

BERNARDIN SAINT-PIERREK

PAUL AND VIRGINIA.

ON the eastern coast of the mountain which trees spreading their broad leaves, the long
rises above Port Louis, in the Mauritius, points of which are gently balanced by the
upon a piece of land bearing the marks of winds. A soft light illuminates the bottom
fTormercultivation, are seen the ruins of of this deep valley, on which the sun only
two small cottages. Those ruins are situa- shines at noon. But even at break of day
ted near the centre of a valley, formed by the rays of light are thrown on the surimmense rocks, and which opens only to- rounding rocks, and their sharp peaks, riswards the north. On the left rises the ing above the shadows of the mountain, apmountain called the Height of Discovery, pear like tints of gold and purple gleaming
from whence the eye marks the distant sail upon the azure sky.
when it first touches the verge of the horiTo this scene I loved to resort, where I
zon, and whence the signal is given when a might enjoy at once the riches of the exvessel approaches the island. At the foot tensive landscape, and the charm of uninof this mountain stands the town of Port terruptedsolitude. One day, when I was
Louis.
On the right is formed the road seated at the foot of the cottages, and conwhich stretches from Port Louis to the templating their ruins, a man, advanced in
Shaddock Grove, where the church, bear- years, passed near the spot. He was dressing that name, lifts its head, surrounded by ed in the ancient garb of the island, his feet
its avenues of bamboo, in the midst of a were bare, and he leaned upon a staff of
spacious plain; and the prospect termi- ebony : his hair was white, and the exnates in a forest extending to the furthest pression of his countenance was dignified
bounds of the island. The front view pre- and interesting. I bowed to him with resents the bay denominated the Bay of the spect; he returned the salutation; and, afTomb; a little on the right is seen the ter looking at me with some earnestness,
Cape of Misfortune, and beyond rolls the came and placed himself upon the hillock
expanded ocean, on the surface of which where I was seated. Encouraged by this
appear a few muninhabited
islands; and mark of confidence, I thus addressed him:
among others, the Point of Endeavour,
"Father, can you tell me to whom those
which resembles a bastion built upon the cottages once belonged ?" "My son," reflood,
plied the old man, those heaps of rubbish,
At the entrance of the valley, which pre- and that untilled land, were, twenty years
sents those various objects, the echoes of; ago, the property of two families, who then
the mountain incessantly repeat the hollow found happiness in this solitude. Their hismurmurs of the winds that shake the tory is affecting; but what European, purneighbouring forests, and the tumultuous suing his way to the Indies, will pause one
dashing of the waves, which break at a moment, to interest himself in the fate of a
distance upon the cliffs. But near the few obscure individuals ? What European
ruined cottages all is calm and still, and the can picture happiness to his imagination
only objects which there meet the eye are amidst poverty and neglect ? The curiosirude steep rocks, that rise like a surround- ty of mankind is only attracted by the hising rampart. Large clumps of trees grow tory of the great ; and yet from that knowat their base, on their rifted sides, and even ledgelittle use can be derived."-" Father,"
on their majestic tops, where the clouds I rejoined, "from your manner and your
seem to repose. The showers, which their observations, I perceive that you have acbold points attract, often paint the vivid quired much experience of human life. If
colours of the rainbow on their green and you have leisure, relate to me, I beseech
brown declivities, and swell the sources of you, the history of the ancient inhabitants
the little river, which flows at their feet, of this desert, and be assured, that even the
called the river of Fan-Palms.
men, who are most perverted by the prejuWithin this inclosure reigns the most dices of the world, find a soothing pleasure
profound silence. The waters, the air, all in contemplating that happiness which be.
the elements are at peace. Scarcely does longs to simplicity and virtue."
.the echo repeat the whispers of the palmThe old man, after a shortsilence, during

PAUL AND VIRGINIA.
which he leaned his face upon his hands, as hood, who promised her marriage. He
if he were trying to recal the images of the soon abandoned her; and, adding inhuma.
past, thus began his narration:nity to seduction, refused to ensure a proMonsieur dela Tour, a young man, who vision for the child of which she was preg.was a native of Normandy, after having nant. Margaret then determined to leave
in vain solicited a commission in the French for ever her native village, and go, where
army, or some support from his own fami- her fault might be concealed, to some colony
ly, at length determined to seek his fortune distant from that country where she had
in this island, where he arrived in 1726. lost the only portion of a poor peasant girl,
He brought hither a young woman, whom her reputation.
With some borrowed
he loved tenderly, and by whom he was no money she purchased an old negro slave,
less tenderly beloved. She belonged to a with whom she cultivated a little spot of
rich and ancient family of the same pro- this canton. Here Madame de la Tour,
aince; but he had married her without for- followed by her negro woman, found Martune, and in opposition to the will of her garet suckling her child. Soothed by the
relations, who refused their consent, be- sight of a person in a situation somewhat
cause he was found guilty of being descend- similar to her own, Madame de la Tour reed from parents who had no claims to no- lated, in a few words, her past condition,
bility. Monsieur de la Tour, leaving his and her present wants. Margaret was
wife at Port Louis, embarked for Madagas- deeply affected by the recital; and, more
Ear, in order to purchase a few slaves, to anxious to excite confidence than esteem,
assist him in forming a plantation in this she confessed, without disguise, the errors
island. He landed at that unhealthy sea- of which she had been guilty.
' As for
son which commences about the middle of me,' said she, ' I deserve my fate: but
October : and soon after his arrival died of you, madam-you ! at once virtuous and
the pestilential fever, which prevails in that unhappy-- 'And, sobbing, she offered
country six months in the year, and which Madame de la Tour her hut and her friendwill for ever baffle the attempts of the Eu. ship. That lady, affected by this tenropean nations to form establishments on der reception, pressed her in her arms, and
that fatal soil. His effects were seized up- exclaimed, ' Ahl,
surely Heaven will put
on by the rapacity of strangers ; and his an end to my misfortunes, since it inspires
wife, who was pregnant, found herself a you, to whom I am a stranger, with more
widow in a country where she had neither goodness towards me than I have ever excredit nor recommendation, and no earthly perienced from my own relations.'
"I knew Margaret: and, although my
possession, or rather support, than one ne.
gro woman. Too delicate to solicit protec- habitation is a league and a half from
tion or relief from any other man, after the hence, in the woods behind that sloping
death of him whom alone she loved, mis- mountain, I considered myself as her neigh.
fortupe armed her with courage, and she bour. In the cities of Europe, a street,
resolfed to cultivate with her slave a little sometimes even a less distance, separates
spot of ground, and procure for herself the families whom nature had united; but in
means of subsistence. In an island almost new colonies we consider those persons as
a desert, and where the ground was left to neighbours, from whom we are divided only
-thechoice of the settler, she avoided those by woods and mountains: and, above all, at
spots which were most fertile and most fa- that period when this island had little intervourable to commerce; and seeking some course with the Indies, neighbourhood
nook of the mountain, some secret asylum, alone gave a claim to friendship, and hos.
where she might live solitary and unknown, pitality towards strangers seemed less a du.
she bent her way from the town towards ty than pleasure. No sooner was I informthose rocks, where she wished to shelter ed that Margaret had found a companion,
herself as in a nest. All suffering crea- than I hastened thither, in the hope of betures, from a sort of common instinct, fly inguseful to my neighbour and her guest.
for refuge, amidst their pains, to haunts the
Madame de la Tour possessed all those
most wild and desolate; as if rocks could melancholy graces which give beauty addiform a rampart against misfortune; as if tional power, by blending sympathy with
the calm of nature could hush the tumults admiration. Her figure was interesting,
of the soul. That Providence, which lends and her countenance expressed at once dig.
its support when we ask but the supply of nity and dejection. She appeared to be in
our necessary wants, had a blessing in re- the last stage of her pregnancy. I told them
serve for Madame de la Tour, which nei- that, for the future interests of their chilther riches nor greatness can purchase; dren, and to prevent the intrusion of any
this blessing was a friend.
other settler, it was necessary they should
"The spot to which Madame de la Tour divide between them the property of this
fled, had already been inhabited a year by a wild sequestered valley, which is nearly
young woman of alively, good-natured, and twenty acres in extent. They confided
affectionate disposition. Margaret, for that that task to me, and I marked out two
was her name, was born in Brittany, of a equal portions of land. One includes the
family of peasants, by whom she was che- higher part of this inclosure, from the peak
rished and beloved, and with whom she of that rock buried in clouds, whence
might have passed her life in simple rustic springs the rapid river of Fan-Palms, to
happiness, if, misled by the weakness of a that wide cleft which you see on the sum.
.tender heart, she had not listened to the mit of the mountain, and which is called
passion of a gentleman in the neighbour- the Cannon's Mouth, from theresemblance

"

PAUL AND VIRGINIA.
in its form. It is difficult to find a path was poor, he strewed maize; where it was
along this wild portion of the inclosure, the most fruitful, he planted wheat; and rice
soil of which is encumbered with fragments in such spots as were marshy. He threw
of rock, or worn into channels formed by the seeds of gourds and cucumbers at the
torrents; yet it produces noble trees, and foot of the rocks, which they loved to climb
innumerable fountains and rivulets. The and decorate with their luxuriant foliage.
other portion of land is comprised in the In dry spots he cultivated the sweet potaplain extending along the banks of the river to ; the cotton-tree flourished upon the
of Fan-Palms, to the opening where we are heights, and the sugar-cane grew upon the
now seated; from whence the river takes its clayey soiL He reared some plants of cof.
course between those two hills, until it falls fee on the hills, where the grain, although
into the sea. You may still trace the ves- snall, is excellent. The plaintain-trees,
tiges of some meadow-land; and this part which spread their grateful shade on the
of the common is less rugged, but not more banks of the river, and encircled the cotvaluable than the other; since in the rainy tage, yielded fruit throughout the year.
season it becomes marshy, and in dry And, lastly, Domingo cultivated a few
weather is so hard and unbending, that it plants of tobacco, to charm away hisown
will yield only to the stroke of the hatchet. cares. Sometimes he was employed in cutWhen I had thus divided the property, I ting wood for firing from the mountains,
persuaded my neighbours to draw lots for sometimes in hewing pieces of rockwithin
their separate possessions. The higher por- the inclosure, in order to level the paths.
tion of land became the property of Ma- He was much attached to Margaret, and not
dame de la Tour; the lower, of Margaret; less to Madame de la Tour, whose negroand each seemed satisfied with their respec- woman, Mary, he had married at the time
tive share. They intreated me to place of Virginia's birth; and he was passionatetheir habitations together, that they might ly fond of his wife. Mary was born at Maat all times enjoy the soothing intercourse dagascar, from whence she had brought a
of friendship, and the consolation of mu- few arts of industry: she could weave
tual kind offices. Margaret's cottage was baskets, and a sort of stuff, with long grass
situated near the centre of the valley, and that grows in the woods. She was active,
just on the boundary of her own planta- cleanly, and above all faithful. It was her
tion. Close to that spot I built another care to prepare their meals, to rear the
cottage, for the dwelling of Madame de la poultry, and go sometimes to Port Louis,
Tour; and thus the two friends, while they and sell the superfluities of these little
possessed all the advantages of neighbour- plantations, which were not very consideraood, lived on their property. I myself cut ble. If you add to the personages I have
palisades from the mountain, and brought already mentioned, two goats, which were
leaves of fan-palms from the sea shore, in brought up with the children, and a great
order to construct those two cottages, of dog who kept watch at night, you will have a
which you can now discern neither the en- complete idea of the household, as well as
trance nor the roof. Yet, alas ! there still of the revenue of those two farms.
" Madame de la Tour and her friend
remain but too many traces for my remembrance ! Time, which so rapidly destroys were employed from the morning till the
the proud monuments of empires, seems evening in spinning cotton for the use of
in this desert to spare those of friendship, their families. Destitute of all those things, '
as if to perpetuate my regrets till the last which their own industry could supply,
not
they walked about their habitations with
hour of my existence.
" Scarcely was her cottage finished, when their feet bare, and shoes were a conveMadame de la Tour was delivered of a girl. nience reserved for Sunday, when, at an
I had been the godfather of Margaret's early hour, they attended mass at the
child, who was christened by the name of church ofthe Shaddock Grove,which you see
PauL Madame de laTour desired me to yonder; the church is far more distant than
perform the same office for her child also, Port Louis; yet they seldom visited the
together with her friend, who gave her the town, lest they should be treated with con.
name of Virginia. 'She will be virtuous,' tempt, because they were dressed in the
cried Margaret, ' and she will be happy. I coarse blue linen Bengal, which is usually
of
have only known misfortune by wandering worn by slaves. But is there in that external
from virtue.'
deference which fortune commands, is there
"At the time Madame de la Tour re- a compensation for domestic happiness ? If
covered, those two little territories had al- they had something to suffer from the
ready begun to yield some produce, perhaps world, this served but to endear their hum.
in a small degree owing to the care which I ble home. No sooner did Mary and Dooccasionally bestowed on their improve- mingo perceive them from this elevated
ment, but far more to the indefatigable la- spot, on the road of the Shaddock Grove,
bours of the two slaves. Margaret's slave, than they flew to the foot of the mountain,
who was called Domingo, was still healthy in order to help them to ascend. They disand robust, although advanced in years : he cerned in the looks of their domestics that
possessed some knowledge, and a good na- joy which their return inspired. They
tural understanding. He cultivated indis- found in their retreat, neatness, indepen.
criminately on both settlements such spots dence, all those blessings which are the re.
of ground as were most fertile, and sowved compense of toil, and received those serviwhatever grain he thought most congenial ces which have their source in affection.
to each particular soiL Where the ground United by the tie of snnilar wants, and the

8

PAUL AND

sympathy of similar misfortunes, they gave
each other the tender names of companion,
friend, sister,-they had but one will, one
interest, one table; all their possessions
were in common. And if sometimes a passion more ardent than friendship, awakened in their hearts the pang of unavailing
anguish, a pure religion, united with chaste
manners, drew their affections towards
another life; as the trembling flame rises
towards heaven, when it niolonger finds any
aliment on earth.
" Madame dela Tour, sometimes, leaving
the household cares to Margaret, wandered
out alone ; and, amidst this sublime scenery,
indulged that luxury of pensive sadness
which is so soothing to the mind after the
first emotions of turbulent sorrow have subsided. Sometimes she poured forth the effusions of melancholy in the language of
verse; and although her compositions have
little poetical merit, they appear to me to
bear the marks of genuine sensibility,
Many of her poems are lost ; but some still
remain in my possession, and a few still
hang on my memory. I will repeat to you
a sonnet addressed to it«ss.
SO NN ET
TO LOVE.
Ah, Love ! ere yet I knew thy fatal power
Bright glow'd the colour of my youthful days,
As, on the sultry sone, the torrid rays
That paint the broad-leav'd plantain's glossy
bower:

Calm was my bosom as this silent hour,
When o'er the deep, scarce heard, the zephyr strays,
'Midst the cool tamn'rinds indolently plays,
Nor from the orange shakes its od'rous flower:
But, ah ! since Love has all my heart posses'd,
That desolated heart what sorrows tear !
Disturbd and wild as ocean's troubled breast,
When the hoarse tempest of the night is there !
Yet my complaining spirit asks no restl
This bleeding bosom cherihhes despair.

"The tender and sacred duties, which
nature imposed, became a source of additional happiness to those affectionate mothers, whose mutual friendship acquired
new strength at the sight of their children,
alike the offspring of unhappy love. They
delighted to place their infants together in
she same bath, to nurse them in the same
cradle, and sometimes changed the maternal
bosom at which they received nourishment,
as if to blend with the ties of friendship that
instinctive affection which this act produces. 'My friend,' cried Madame de la
Tour, ' we shall each of us have two children,
and each of our children will have two mothers. ' As two buds, which remain on two
trees of the same kind after the tempest has
broken all their branches, produce more delicious fruit, if each, separated from the maternal stem, be grafted on the neighbouring
tree; so those two children, deprived of all
other support, imbibed sentiments more
tender than those of son and daughter,
brother and sister, when exchanged at the
breast of those who had given them birth.
While they were yet in their cradle, their

VIRGINIA.
mothers talked of their marriage; and this
prospect of conjugal felicity, with which
they soothed their own cares, often called
forth the tears of bitter regret. The mis.
fortunes ofonemother had arisen fromhav
ing neglected marriage, those of the other
from having submitted to its laws : one had
been made unhappy by attempting to raise
herself above her humble condition of life,
the other by descending from her rank.
But they found consolation in reflecting,
that their more fortunate children, far from
the cruel prejudices of Europe, those prejudices, which poison the most precious
sources of our happiness, would enjoy at
once the pleasure of hope and the blessings
of equality.
" Nothing could exceed the attachment
which those infants already displayed for
each other. If Paul complained, his mother pointed to Virginia; and at that sight
he smiled and was appeased. If any accident befel Virginia, the cries of Paul gave
notice of the disaster; and then Virginia
would suppress her complaints when she
found that Paul was unhappy. When 1
came hither, I usually found them quite
naked, which is the custom of this country, tottering in their walk, and holding
each other by the hands and under the
arms, as we represent the constellation of
the Twins. At night these infants often
refused to be separated, and were found ly
ing in the same cradle; their cheeks, their
bosoms pressed close together, their hands
thrown round each other's neck, and sleep.

lkd
in one another's arms.
in locked in one another's arms.

When they begun to speak, the first
names they learnt to give each other were
those of brother and sister, and childhood
knows no softer appellation. Their education served to augment their early friendship, by directing it to the supply of their
reciprocal wants. In a short time all that
regarded the household economy, the care

of preparing their rural repasts, became
the task of Virginia, whose labours were
always crowned with the praises and kisses
of her brother. As for Paul, always in
motion, he dug the garden with Domingo,
or followed him with a little hatchet into
the woods where, if he espied a beautiful
flower, fine fruit, or a nest of birds, even at
the top of a tree, he climbed up and brought
it home to his sister.
" When you met with one of those children, you might be sure the other was not
One day, coming down that
distant.
mountain, I saw Virginia at the end of the
garden, running towards the house, with
her petticoat thrown over her head, in order to screen herself from a shower of rain.
At a distance I thought she was alone;
but, as I hastened towards her, in order to
help her on, I perceived that she held Paul
by the arm, who was almost entirely enveloped in the same canopy, and both were
laughing heartily at being sheltered together under an umbrella of their own invention. Those two charming faces, placed
within the petticoat, swelled by the wind,
recalled to my mind the children of Leda,
inclosed within the same shell.

PAUL AND VIRGINIA.
" Their sole study was how to please and black eyes would have been too piercing, if
assist each other, for of all other things they the long eye-lashes, by which they were
were ignorant, and knew neither how to shaded, had not given them a look of softread or write. They were never disturbed ness. He was constantly in motion, except
by researches into past times, nor did their when his sister appeared; and then, placed
curiosity extend beyond the bounds of that at her side, he became quiet. Their meals
mountain. They believed the world ended often passed in silence; and, from the grace
at the shores of their own island, and all of their attitudes, the beautiful proportions
their ideas and affections were confined of their figures, and their naked feet, you
within its limits. Their mutual tenderness, might have fancied you beheld an antique
and that of their mothers, employed all the group of white marble, representing some
activity of their souls. Their tears had of the children of Niobe; if those eyes
never been called forth by long appli- which sought to meet those smiles, which
cation to useless sciences. Their minds were answered by smiles of the most tender
hadnever been wearied by lessons of mo- softness, had not rather given you the idea
rality, superfluous to bosoms unconscious of of those happy celestial spirits, whose naill. They had never been taught that they tureis love, and who are not obliged to
must not steal, because every thing with have recourse to words for the expression
them was in common; or be intemperate, of that intuitive sentiment. In the mean.
because their simple food was left to their time, Madame de laTour, perceiving every
own discretion; or false, because they had day some unfolded grace, some new beauty,
no truth to conceal. Their young imagi- in her daughter, felt her maternal anxiety
nations had never been terrified by the idea increase with her tenderness. She often said
that God has punishments in store for un- to me, 'If I should die, what will become
grateful children; since with them, filial of Virginia without fortune.'
affection arose naturally from maternal
"Madame de la Tour had an aunt in
fondness. All they had been taught of re- France, who was a woman of quality, rich,
ligion was to love it: and if they did not old, and a great bigot. She had behaved
offer long prayers in the church, wher- towards her niece with so much cruelty up.
up
ever they were, in the house, in the fields, on her marriage, that Madame de laTour
in the woods, they raised towards heaven had determined that no distress or misfortheir innocent hands, and their hearts puri- tune should ever compel her to have re
fled by virtuous affections.
course to her hard-hearted relation. BLt
" Thus passed their early childhood, like when she became amother, the pride of re.
a beautiful dawn, the prelude of a bright sentment was stifled in the stronger feelings
day. Already they partook, with their mo- of maternal tenderness. She wrote to her
thers, the cares of the household. As soon aunt, informing her of the sudden death
as the cry of the wakeful cock announced of her husband, the birth of her daughter,
the first beam of the morning, Virginia and the difficulties in which she was inarose, and hastened to draw water from a volved at a distance from her own country,
neighbouring spring; then returning to the without support, and burdened with a
house, she prepared the breakfast. When child. She received no answer : but, notthe rising sun lighted up the points of those withstanding that high spirit, which was
rocks, which overhang this inclosure, Mar- natural to her character, she no longer
garet and her child went to the dwellingof feared exposing herself to mortification and
Madame de laTour, and they offered up to- reproach; and although she knew her regether their morning prayer. This sacrifice lation would never pardon her for having
of thanksgiving always preceded their first married a man of merit, but not of noble
repast, which they often partook before the birth, she continued to write to her by every
door of the cottage, seated upon the grass, opportunity, in the hope of awakening her
under a canopy of plantain; and, while the compassion for Virginia. Many years, howbranches of that delightful tree afforded a ever, passed, during which she received not
grateful shade, its solid fruit furnished food the smallest testimony of her remembrance.
ready prepared by nature; and its long
" At length, in 1738, three years after the
glossy leaves spread upon the table sup- arrival of Monsieur de la Bourdonnais in
plied the want of linen.
this island, Madame de laTour was inform"Plentiful and wholesome nourishment ed, that the governor had a letter to give
gave early growth and vigour to the persons her from her aunt. She flew to Port Louis,
of those children, and their countenances careless on this occasion of appearing in her
expressed the purity and the peace of their homely garment. Maternal hope and joy
souls. At twelve years of age the figure of subdued all those little considerations, which
Virginia was in some degree formed : a are lost, when the mind is absorbed by any
profusion of light hair shaded her face, to powerful sentiment. Monsieur de laBourwhich her blue eyes and coral lips gave the donnais delivered to her a letter from her
most charming brilliancy. Her eyes spar- aunt, who informed her, that she deserved
kled with vivacity when she spoke; but her fate for having married an adventurer
when she was silent, her look had a cast and a libertine; that misplaced passions
upwards, which gave it an expression of brought along with them their own punishextreme selsibility, or rather of tender me- ment, and that the sudden death of her huslancholy. Already the figure of Paul dis- band must be considered as a visitation from
played the graces of manly beauty. He Heaven : that she had done well in going
was taller than Virginia; his skin was of a to a distant island, rather than dishonour
darker tint, his nose was aquiline; and his her family by remaining in France; and

10

PAUL AND VIRGINIA.

that, after all, in the colony where she had only source of delight ! Yes, my dear chil
takenrefuge, every person grew rich except dren, misfortune has reached me from a dis.
surely I
the idle. Having thus lavished sufficient tance, butPaul and am surrounded by hap.
Virginia did not undercensure upon the conduct of her niece, she piness.'
stand this reflection; but, when they saw
finished by an eulogium on herself. To that she was calm, they smiled, and conavoid, she said, the almost inevitable evils tinued to caress her. Thus tranquillity was
of marriage, she had determined to remain restored; and what had passed proved but
in a single state. In truth, being of a very a transient storm, which serves to give fresh
ambitious temper, she had resolved only to verdure to a beautiful spring.
unite herself to a man of high rank ; and
" Although Madame de la Tour appeared
although she was very rich, her fortune calm in the presence of her family, she
was not found a sufficient bribe, even at sometimes communicated tome the feelings
court, to counterbalance the malignant dis- that preyed upon her mind, and soon after
positions of her mind, and the disagreeable
this period gave me the following sonnet :
qualities of her person.
" She added in a postscript, that after ma.
recom.
ture deliberation, she had strongly
SONNET
mended her niece to Monsieur de la Bourdonnais. Thisshe had indeed done; but in a
TO DISAPPOINTMENT,
manner of late too common, and which renders a patron perhaps evenmore formidable Pae Disappointment! at thy freezing name
than a declared enemy ; for, in order to justi- Chill fears in every shiv'ring vein I prove;
sinking pulse almost forgets to move,
fy herself, she had cruelly slandered her MVy
languid
life
niece, while she affected topity her misfor- And thee,almost forsakes my no moreframe:
I blame:
relentless nymph !
Yet
tunes.
'midst vain
" Madame de laTour, whom no unpre- Why do my thoughts of friendship illusions rove?
and of Iove
Why gild the charms
judiced person could have seen without With the warm glow of fancy's puirple flame?
feeling sympathy and respect, was received When ruffling winds have some bright fane o'erthrown,
with the utmost coolness by Monsieur de la
or
which shone
Bourdonnais; and when she painted to him Shall the fiedon painted clouds,himseem'd to snlne,
alone
gazer dream for
situation, and that of her child, he Those clouds were stable, and at fate repine
her own
I feel, alas l the fault is all my own,
replied,' We will see what can be donethere are so many to relieve--why did you And, ah the cruel punishment is mine!
affront so respectable a relation !-Youhave
been much to blame.'
"The amiable disposition of those children
" Madame de la Tour returned to her unfolded itself daily. On a Sunday, their
cottage, her bosom throbbing with all the mothers having gone at break of day to
bitterness of disappointment. When she mass, at the church of the Shaddock Grove,
arrived, she threw herself on a chair; and the children perceived a negro-woman bethen flinging her aunt's letter on the table, neath the plantains which shaded their haexclaimed to her friend, ' This is the re- bitation. She appeared almost wasted to a
compence of eleven years of patient expec- skeleton, and had no other garment than a
tation.' As Madame de la Tour was the shred of coarse cloth thrown. across her
only person in the little circle who could loins. She flung herself at Virginia's feet,
read, she agtu took up the letter, which who was preparing the family breakfast,
she read aloud. Scarcely had she finished, and cried, ' My good young lady, have pity
when Margaret exclaimed, 'What have we on a poor slave. For a whole month I have
to do with your relations? Has God then wandered amongst these mountains, half
forsaken us? He only is our father. Have dead with hunger, and often pursued by the
we not hitherto been happy ? Why then this hunters and their dogs. I fled from my
regret? You have no courage.' Seeing Ma- master, a rich planter of the Black River,
dame de la Tour in tears, she threw herself who has used me as you see;' and she
upon her neck, and pressing her in her showed her body marked by deep scars from
arms, ' My dear friend,' cried she, 'my the lashes she had received. She added,
dear friend.' But her emotion choked her 'I was going to drown myself; but hearutterance.
since
said
"At this sight Virginia burst into tears, ing you lived here, Igood to myself,
white people in
there are still some
and pressed her mother's hand and Mar- this country, I need not die yet.'
garet's alternately to her lips, and to her
"Virginia answered with emotion, 'Take
heart; while Paul, with his eyes inflamed
here is
with anger, cried, clasped his hands toge- courage, unfortunate creature!
food;' and she gave her the breakfast she
ther, and stamped with his feet, not know- had prepared, which the poor slave in a few
whom to blame for this scene of misery.
ing
When her hunger was
The noise soon led Domingo and Mary to minutes devoured. said to her, ' Unhappy
Virginia
the spot, and the littlehabitation resounded appeased,will you let me go and ask forgive.
! woman,
with the cries of distress. ' Ah, Madame
ness for you of your master ? Surely the
-My good mistress!-My dear mother!sight of you will touch him with pity-Will
Do not weep!'
Angel of Hea" Those tender proofs of affection at you show me the way?'-'
negro.woman, '1
dispelled Madame de la Tour's sor- ven!' answered the poor please.' Virginia
length
will follow you where you
row. She took Paul and Virginia in her
begged him to acbrother,
arms, and, embracing them, cried, 'You called her her. Theand
slave led the way, by
arethe cause of my affliction, and yet my company

PAUL AND VIRGINIA.

11

winding and difficult paths, through the strike fire; and, although the whole
woods, over mountains which they climbed island is covered with rocks, I do not
with difficulty, and across rivers, through believe it is possible to find a flint. Necessi.
which they were obliged to wade. At ty, however, is fertile in expedients, and the
length they reached the foot of a precipice most useful inventions have arisen from men
upon the borders of the Black River. There placed in the most destitute situations.
they perceived a well-builthouse, surround- Paul determined to kindle a fire in the man
ed by extensive plantations, and a great ner of the negroes. With the sharp end of
number of slaves employed at their various a stone he made a small hole in the branch
labours. Their master was walking amongst of a tree that was quite dry, which he held
them with a pipe in his mouth, and a switch between his feet; he then sharpened ano.
in his hand. He was a tall thin figure, of ther dry branch of a different sort of wood,
a brown complexion ; his eyes were sunk in and afterwards placing the piece of pointed
his head, and his dark eye-brows were join- wood in the small hole of the branch which
ed together. Virginia, holding Paul by the he held with his feet, and turning it rapidhand, drew near, and with much emotion, ly between his hands, in a few minutes
begged him for the love of God to pardon smoke and sparks of fire issued from the
his poor slave, who stood trembling a few points of contact. Paul then heaped togepaces behind. The man at first paid little ther dried grass and branches, and set fire
attention to the children, who, he saw, to the palm-tree, which soon fell to the
were meanly dressed. But when he ob- ground. The fire was useful to him in
served the elegance of Virginia's form, and stripping off the long, thick, and pointed
the profusion of her beautiful light tresses, leaves, within which the cabbage was inwhich had escaped from beneath her blue closed.
cap; when he heard the soft tone of her
" Paul and Virginia ate part of the cabvoice, which trembled, as well as her own bage raw, and part dressed upon the ashes,
frame, while she implored his compassion ; which they found equally palatable. They
hetook the pipe from his mouth, and lifting made this frugal repast with delight, from
up his stick, swore, with a terrible oath, the remembrance of the benevolent action
that he pardoned his slave, not for the love they had performed in the morning : yet
of Heaven, but of her who asked his for- their joy was embittered by the thoughts of
giveness. Virginia made a sign to the slave that uneasiness which their long absence
to approach her master, and instantly would give their mothers. Virginia often
recurred to this subject; but Paul, who
sprung away, followed by Paul.
They climbed up the precipice they had felt his strength renewed by their meal, asdescended ; and, having gained the sum- sured her that it would not be long before
mit, seated themselves at the foot of a tree, they reached home.
overcome with fatigue, hunger, and thirst.
' After dinner they recollected that they
They had left their cottage fasting, and had had no guide, and that they were ignorant
walked five leagues since break of day. Paul of the way. Paul, whose spirit was not
said to Virginia, 'My dear sister, it is past subdued by difficulties, said to Virginia,
noon, and I am sure you are thirsty and 'The sun shines fullupon ourhuts atnoon;
hungry : we shall find no dinner Here ; let we must pass, as we did this morning, over
us go downthe mountain again, and ask the that mountain with its three points, which
master of the poor slave for some food.'- you see yonder. Come, let us go.' This
Oh, no,' answered Virginia; 'he frightens mountain is called the Three Peaks. Paul
me too much. Remember what mamma and Virginia descended the precipice of the
sometimes says, 'Thebread ofthewicked is Black River, on the northern side; and ar.
likestones in the mouth.'-' What shall we rived, after an hour's walk, on the banks A
dothen ?' said Paul: 'these trees produceno a large stream.
fruit; and I shall not be able to find even
" Great part of this island is so little
a tamarind or a lemon to refresh you.' known, even now, that many of its rivers
Scarcely had he pronounced these words, and mountains have not yet received a
when they heard the dashing of waters name. The river, on the banks of which
which fell from a neighbouring rock. They our travellers stood, rolls foaming over a
ran thither ; and having quenched their bed of rocks. The noise of the water
thirst at this crystal spring, they ga- frightened Virginia, and she durst not wade
thered a few cresses which grew on the through the stream; Paul therefore took
border of the stream. While they were her up in his arms, and went thus loaded
wandering in the woods in search of more over the slippery rocks, which formed the
solid nourishment, Virginia spied a young bed of the river, careless of the tumultuous
palm-tree. The kind of cabbage, which is noise of its waters. ' Do not be afraid,'
founimd the top of this tree infolded with- cried he to Virginia; ' I feel very strong
at
in its leaves, forms an excellent sustenance : with you. If the inhabitant of the Black
but, although the stalk of the tree was not River had refused you the pardon of his
thicker than a man's leg, it was above sixty slave, I would have fought with him.'feet in height. The wood of this tree is 'What !' answered Virginia, 'with that
composed of fine filaments; but the bark is great wicked man ? To what have I exso hard thatit turns the edge of the hatchet; posed you ! Gracious Heaven ! How dif..
and Paul was not even furnished with a ficult it istodo good! and it issoeasy to do
knife. At length he thought of setting fire wrong.'
to thepalm tree: but a new difficulty oc"When Paul had crossed the river, he
curred; he had no steel with which t wished to continue his journey
carryinghie

12

PAUL AND VIRGINIA.

sister, and believed he was able to climb in
that way the mountain of the Three
Peaks, which was still at the distance of
half a league; but his strength soon failed,
and he was obliged to set down his burden,
and to rest himself by her side. Virginia
then said to him, ' My dear brother, the
sun is going down; you have still some
strength left, but mine has quite failed: do
leave me here, and return home alone to
ease the fears of our mothers.'-' Oh, no,'
said Paul, ' I will not leave you. If night
surprise us in this wood, I will light a fire,
and bring down another palm-tree : you
shall eat the cabbage ; and I will form a covering of the leaves to shelter you.' In the
mean time Virginia, being a little rested,
pulled from the trunk of an old tree, which
hung over the bank of the river, some long
leaves of hart's tongue, which grew near its
root. With those leaves she made a sort of
buskin, with which she covered her feet,
that were bleeding from the sharpness of
the stony paths; for in her eager desire to
do good, she had forgot to put on her shoes.
Feeling her feet cooled by the freshness of
the leaves, she broke off a branch of bamboo, and continued her walk, leaning with
one hand on the staff, and with the other
on Paul.
" They walked on slowly through the
woods; but from the height of the trees,
and the thickness of their foliage, they soon
lost sight of the mountain of the Three
Peaks, by which they directed their course,
and even of the sun, which was now setting. At length they wandered, without
perceiving it, from the beaten path in which
they had hitherto walked, and found themselves in a labyrinth of trees and rocks,
which appeared to have no opening. Paul
made Virginia sit down, while he ran backwards and forwards, half frantic, in search
of a path which might lead them out of this
thick wood; but all his researches were in
vain. He climbed to thetop ofatree, from
whence he hoped at least to discern the
mountain of the Three Peaks; but all he
could perceive around him were the tops
of trees, some of which were gilded by the
last beams of the setting sun. Already the
shadows of the mountains were spread over
the forests in the valleys. The wind ceased, as it usually does, at the evening hour.
The most profound silence reigned inthose
awful solitudes, which was only interrupted
by the cry of the stags, who came to repose
in that unfrequented spot. Paul, in the
hope that some hunter would hear his
voice, called out, as loud as he was able,
SCome, come to the help of Virginia.' But
the echoes of the forests alone answered his
call, and repeated again and again, 'Virginia ! Virginia!' Paul at length descended
from the tree, overcome with fatigue and
vexation, and reflected how they might best
contrive to pass the night in that desert.
But he could find neither a fountain, a
palm-tree, nor even a branch of dry wood
to kindle a fire. He then felt, by experience, the sense of his own weakness, and
began to weep. Virginia said to him, ' Do
notweep, my dear brother, or I shall die

with grief. I am the cause of all your sorrow, and of all that our mothers suffer at
this moment. I find we ought to do nothing, not even good, without consulting
our parents. Oh, I have been very imprudent!' and she began to shed tears. She
then said to Paul, 'Let us pray to God,
my dear brother, and he will hear us.'
"Scarcely had they finished theirprayer,
when they heard the barking of a dog. 'It
is the dog of some hunter,' said Paul, 'who
comes here at night to lie in wait for the
stags.' Soon after, the dog barked again,
with more violence. ' Surely,' said Virginia, 'it is Fidele, our own dog: yes, I
know his voice. Are we then so near home ?
at the foot of our own mountain ? A mo
ment after Fidele was at their feet, barking, howling, crying, and devouring them
with his caresses. Before they had recovered their surprise, they saw Domingo running towards them. At the sight of this
good old negro, who wept with joy, they began to weep too, without being able to utter
one word. When Domingo had recovered
himself a little, 'Oh, my dear children,'said
he, 'how miserable have you made yourmothers! How much were they astonished,
when they returned from mass, where I
went with them, at not finding you ! Mary, who was at work at a little distance,
could not tell us where you were gone. I
ran backwards and forwards about the plantation, not knowing where to look for you.
At last I took some of your old clothes,
and, showing them to Fidele, the poor animal, as if he understood me, immediately
began to scent your path; and conducted
me, continually wagging his tail, to the
Black River. It was there a planter told
me that you had brought back a negro-woman, his slave, and that he had granted you
her pardon. But what pardon! he showed
her to me with her feet chained to a block
of wood, and an iron collar with three hooks
fastened round her neck!
" ' From thence Fidele, still on the scent,
led me up the precipice of the Black River,
where he again stopped and barked with all
his might. This was on the brink of a
spring, near a fallen palm-tree, and close to
a fire which was still smoking. At last he
led me to this very spot. We are at the
foot of the mountain of the Three Peaks,
and still four leagues from home. Come,
eat, and gather strength.' He then presented them with cakes, fruits, and a very
large gourd, filled with a liquor composed of
wine, water, lemon juice, sugar, and nutmeg, which their mothers had prepared.
Virginia sighed at the recollection of the
poor slave, and at the uneasiness which
they had given their mothers. She repeated several times, 'Oh, how difficult it
is to do good !'
"While she and Paul were taking refreshment, Domingo kindled a fire; and
having sought among the rocks for a particular kind ofcrooked wood, which burns
when quite green, throwing out a great
blaze, he made a torch, which he lighted,
it being already night. But when they
prepared to coninue their journey, a new

PAUL AND VIRGINIA.
difficulty occurred: Paul and Virginia
could no longer walk, their feet being violently swelled and inflamed.
Domingo
knew not whether it were best to leave
them, and go in search of help, or remain
and pass the night with them on that spot.
SWhat is become of the time,' said he,
when I used to carry you both together in
my arms? But now you are grown big,
and I am grown old.' While he was in this
perplexity, a troop of Maroon negroes appeared at the distance of twenty paces. The
chief of the band, approaching Paul and
Virginia, said to them, ' Good little white
people, do not be afraid. We saw you pass
this morning, with a negro-woman of the
Black River. You went to ask pardon for
ner of her wicked master, and we, in re.
turn for this, will carry you home upon our
shoulders.' He then made a sign, and four
of the strongest negroes immediately formed a sort of litter with the branches of trees
and lianas, in which having seated Paul and
Virginia, they placed it upon their shoulders.
Domingo marched in front, carrying his
lighted torch, and they proceeded amidst
the rejoicings of the whole troop, and overwhelmed with their benediction. Virginia,
affected by this scene, said to Paul, with
emotion, 'Oh, my dear brother ! God
never leaves a good action without reward.'
" It was midnight when they arrived at
the foot of the mountain, on the ridges of
which several fires were lighted. Scarcely
had they begun to ascend, when they heard
voices crying out, 'Is it you, my children ?
They answered, together with the negroes,
'Yes, it is us;' and soon after perceived
their mothers and Mary coming towards
them with lighted sticks in their hands.
' Unhappy children !'cried Madame de la
Tour, from whence do you come? What
agonies you have made us suffer!' 'We
come,' said Virginia, 'from the Black River, where we went to ask pardon for a poor
Maroon slave, to whom I gave our breakfast this morning, because she was dying of
hunger; and these Maroon negroes have
brought us home.'-Madame de laTour
embraced her daughter, without being able
to speak, and Virginia, who felt her face
wet with her mother's tears, exclaimed,
'You repay me for all the hardships I have
suffered.' Margaret, in a transport of delight, pressed Paul in her arms, crying,
'And you also, my dear child ! you have
done a good action.' When they reached
the hut with their children, they gave plenty
of food the negroes, who returned to their
to
woods, after praying the blessing of Heaven
might descend on those good white people.
Every day was to those families a day
oftranquillity and ofhappiness. Neither ambition nor envy disturbed their repose. In
this island, where, as in all European colonies, every malignant anecdote is circulated with avidity, their virtues and even their
names were unknown. Only when a traveller on the road of the Shaddock Grove
inquired of any of the inhabitants of the
plain, 'Who lives in those two cottages
above ?' he was always answered, even by
those who did not know them, 'They are

Is

good people.' Thus the modest violet, con.
cealed beneath the thorny bushes, sheds its
fragrance, while itself remains unseen.
" Doing good appeared to those amiable
families to be the chief purpose of life. Solitude, far from having blunted their benevolent feelings, or rendered their dispositions morose, had left their hearts open to
every tender affection. The contemplation of nature filled their minds with enthusiastic delight. They adored the bounty of that Providence which had enabled
them to spread abundance and beauty
amidst those barren rocks, and to enjoy
those pure and simple pleasures, which are
ever grateful and ever new. It was, probably, in those dispositions of mind that
Madame de la Tour composed the following sonnet:
SONNET
TO SIMPLICITy.
Nymph of the desert! on this lonely shore,

Simplicity, thy blessings still are mine,
And all thou canst not give I pleased resign,
For all beside can soothe my soul no mre.
I ask no lavish heaps to swell my store,
And purchase pleasures far rem te from thine,
Ye joys, for which the race of Europe pine,
Ah ! not for me your studied grandeur pour :
Let me where yon tall cliffs are rudely piled,
Where towers the palm amidst the mountain trees,
Where pendent from the steep, with graces wild,
The blue liana floats upon the breeze,
Still haunt those bold recesses, Nature's child,
Where thy majestic charms my spirit seize !

" Paul, at twelve years of age, was
stronger and more intelligent than Europeans are at fifteen, and had embellished
the plantations which Domingo had only
cultivated. He had gone with him to the
neighbouring woods, and rooted up young
plants of lemon-trees, oranges, and tamarinds, the round heads of which are of so
fresh a green, together with date palm
trees, producing fruit filled with a sweet
cream, which has the fine perfume of the
orange flower. Those trees, which were
already of a considerable size, he planted
round this little inclosure. He had also
sown the seeds of many trees which the second year bear flowers or fruit. The
agathis, encircled with long clusters of
white flowers, which hang upon it like the
crystal pendents of a lustre. The Persian
lilac, which lifts high in air its grey flaxcoloured branches. The pappaw-tree, the
trunk of which, without branches, forms a
column set round with green melons, bearing on their heads large leaves like those of
the fig-tree.
"The seeds and kernels of the gum-tree.
terminalia, mangoes, alligator pears, the
guava, the bread-tree, and the narrowleaved eugenia were planted with protu.
sion; and the greater number of those
trees already afforded to their young culti
vator both shade and fruit. His industri,
ous hands had diffused the riches of nature
even on the most barren parts of the plan
tation. Several kinds of aloes, the common
Indian fig, adorned with yellow flowers
L

14

PAUL AND VIRGINIA.

spotted with red, and the thorny fiveangled touch-thistle, grew upon the dark
summits of the rocks, and seemed to aim
at reaching the long lianas, which, loaded
with blue or crimson flowers, hung scattered over the steepest part of the mountain.Those trees were disposed in such
a manner that you could command the
whole at one view. He had placed in the
middle of this hollow the plants of the lowest
growth: behind grew the shrubs; then
trees of an ordinary height; above which
rose majestically the venerable lofty groves
which border the circumference. 'Thus
from its centre this extensive inclosure appeared like a verdant amphitheatre spread
with fruits and flowers, containing a variety of vegetables, a chain of meadow
land, and fields of rice and corn. In blendingthose vegetable productions to his own
taste, he followed the designs of Nature.
Guided by her suggestions, he had thrown
upon the rising grounds such seeds as the
winds might scatter over the heights, and
near the borders of the springs such grains
as float upon the waters. Every plant
grew in its proper soil, and every spot
seemed decorated by her hands. The
waters, which rushed from the summits of
the rocks, formed in some parts of the valley limpid fountains, and in other parts
were spread into large clear mirrors, which
reflected the bright verdure, the trees in
blossom, the bending rocks, and the azure
heaven.
" Notwithstanding the great irregularity
of the ground, most of these plantations
were of easy access. We had, indeed, all
given him our advice and assistance, in order to accomplish this end. He had formed
a path which winded round the valley, and
of which various ramifications led from the
circumference to the centre. He had
drawn some advantage from the most rugged spots; and had blended, in harmoni-

which projects from the mountain, com.manded a view of the whole enclosure, and
of the distant ocean, where sometimes we
spied a vessel coming from Europe, or re.
turning thither. On this rock the two families assembled in the evening, and es
joyed, in silence, the freshness of the air
the fragrance of the flowers, the murmurs
of the fountain, and the last blended har
monies of light and shade.
" Nothing could be more agreeable than
the names which were bestowed upon some
of the charming retreats of this labyrinth.
That rock, of which I was speaking, and
from which my approach was discerned at
a considerable distance, was called the Discovery of Friendship. Paul and Virginia,
amidst their sports had planted a bamboo
on that spot; and whenever they saw me
coming, they hoisted a little white hand.
kerchief, by way of signal of my approach,
as they had seen a flag hoisted on the
neighbouring mountain at the sight of a
vessel at sea. The idea struck me of engraving an inscription upon the stalk of
this reed. Whatever pleasure I have felt,
during my travels, at the sight of a statue,
or monument of antiquity, I have felt still
more in reading a well-written inscription.
It seems to me as if a human voice issued
from the stone; and, making itself heard
through the lapse of ages, addressed man in
the midst of a desert, and told him that he
is not alone, that other men, on that very
spot, have felt, and thought, and suffered,
like himself. If the inscription belongs to
an ancient nation, which no longer exists,
it leads the soul through infinite space, and
inspires the feeling of its immortality, by
showing that a thought has survived the
ruins of an empire.
" I inscribed then, on the little mast of
Paul and Virginia's flag, those lines of
Horace:-

ous varieties, smooth walks with the asperities the soil, and wild with domestic
of

sidera,
Fratres Helenme lucida
Obsticti alis, prater apyga.

productions.

With that immense quantity

of rolling stones, which now block up those
paths, and which are scattered over most
of the ground of this island, he formed

* May the brothers of Helen, lucid stars like
you, and the Father ofthewinds guide you,and
may you onlyfeel breath of the zephyr.'
the

here and there pyramids; and at their
base he laid earth, and planted the roots of
" I engraved this line of Virgil upon the
rose-bushes, the Barbadoes flower-fence, bark of a gum-tree, under the shade of
and other shrubs which love to climb the which Paul sometimes seated himself, in
rocks.
In a short time thosegloomy order to contemplate the agitated sea:shapeless pyramids were covered with verdure, or with the glowing tints of the most
Fortunatus etille qui
deos novit agrestes !
beautiful flowers. The hollow recesses of
aged trees, which bent over the borders of

the stream, formed vaulted caves impenetrable to the sun, and where you might enjoy coolness during the heats of the day.
That path led to a clump of forest trees, in
he centre of which grew a cultivated tree,
loaded with fruit. Here was a field ripe
with corn, there an orchard. From that
avenue you h d a view of the cottages ;

, Happy artthou, my son, to know only the
pastoral divinities.'

"And above the door of Madame de la
to
ue
fame
e the
Tu' co
used to
where thefamilies
cottage,
Tour's
assemble, I placed this line:At secura quies, etnescia fallere vita.
Here isa calm conscience, and a life ignorant
of deceit.'

from this of the inaccessible summit of the
mountain. Beneath that tufted bower of
gum-trees, interwoven with lianas, no oh.
" But Virginia did not approve of my
ject
could be discerned even at noon; Latin: she said that what I had placed at
while the point the neighbouring rock, the foot of her weather-flag was too long
of

PAUL AND VIRGINIA.
and too learned. I should have liked better,' added she, ' to have seen inscribed,
Always agitated,yet ever constant.'
" The sensibility of those happy families
extended itself to every thing around them.
They had given names the most tender to
objects in appearance the most indifferent.
A border of orange, plantain, and breadtrees, planted round a green sward where
Virginia and Paul sometimes danced, was
called Concord. An old tree, beneath the
shade of which Madame de la Tour and
Margaret used to relate their misfortunes,
was called The tears wiped away. They
gave the names of Brittany and Normandy
to little portions of ground, where they had
sown corn, strawberries, and peas. Domingo and Mary, wishing, in imitation of
their mistresses, to recall the places of their
birth in Africa, gave the names of Angola
and Foullepoiate to the spots where grew
the herb with which they wove baskets,
and where they had planted a calbassiatree. Thus, with the productions of their
respective climates, those exiled families
cherished the dear illusions which bind us
to our native country, and softened their
regrets in a foreign land. Alas ! I have
seen, animated by a thousand soothing appellations, those trees, those fountains,
those stones, which are now overthrown,
which now, like the plains of Greece, pre.
sent nothing but ruins and affecting remembrances.
" Neither the neglect of her European
friends, nor the delightful romantic spot
which she inhabited, could banish from the
mind of Madame de la Tour this tender attachment to her native country. While
the luxurious fruits of this climate
gratified the taste of her family, she delighted to rear those which were more
grateful, only because they were the pro.
duction of her early home. Among other
little pieces, addressed to flowers and fruits
of northern climes, I found the following
sonnet to the strawberry.

15

her a present of an Indian cocoa which
had been given me, and which she planted
on the border of this fenny ground, in order that the tree might one day serve to
mark the epoch of her son's birth. Ma.
dame de la Tour planted another cocoa,
with the same view, at the birth of Virginia. Those fruits produced two cocoatrees, which formed all the records of the
two families: one was called the tree of
Paul, the other the tree of Virginia. They
grew in the same proportion as the two
young persons, of an unequal height; but

they rose at the end of twelve years above
the cottages. Already their tender stalks
were interwoven, and their young branches
of cocoas hung over the bason of the fountain. Except this little plantation, the nook
of the rock had been left as it was decorated
by Nature. On its brown and humid sides
large plants of maiden hair glistened with
their green and dark stars ; and tufts of
wave-leaved hartstongue, suspended like
long ribands of purpled green, floated on
the winds. Near this grew a chain of the
Madagascar periwinkle, the flowers of
which resemble the red gilliflower; and the
long.podded capsacum, the cloves of which
are of the colour of blood, and more glowing than coral. The herb of balm, with its
leaves within the heart, and the sweet ba.
sil, which has the odour of the gilliflower,
exhaled the most delicious perfumes. From
the steep summit of the mountain hung the
graceful lianas, like a floating drapery,
forming magnificent canopies of verdure
upon the sides of the rocks. The sea birds,
allured by the stillness of those retreats, re.
sorted thither to pass the night. At the
hour of sun-set we perceived the curlew
and the stint skimming along the sea-shore;
the cardinal poised high in air; and the
white bird of the tropic, which abandons,
with the star of day, the solitudes of
the Indian ocean. Virginia loved to repose
upon the border of this fountain, decorated
with wild and sublime magnificence. She
often seated herself beneath the shade of
the two cocoa-trees, and there she someSONNET
times led her goats to graze. While she
TO THE STRAWBERRY.
prepared cheeses of their milk, she loved to
see them browse on the maiden-hair which
The strawberryblooms upon its lowly bed:
Plant of my native soil ! The lime may fling
grew upon the steep sides of the rock, and
More potent fragrance on the zephyr's wing,
hang suspended upon one of its cornices, as
The milky cocoa richer juices shed,
on a pedestal
Paul, observing that VirgiThe white guava lovelier blossoms spread;
nia was fond of this spot, brought thither,
But n t like thee, to fond remembrance bring
from the neighbouring forest, a great varieThe vanish'd hours of life's enchanting spring;
Short calendar of joys for ever fled!
The old birds, following
ty of birds-nests.
Thou bidd'st the scenes of childhood rise to view, their young, established themselves in this
The wild wood path which fancy loves to trace,
new colony. Virginia, at stated times, disWhere veil'd i leaves, thy fruit, of rosy hue,
tributed amongst them grains of rice, millet,
Lurk'd on its pliant stem with modest grace.
But, ah! when thought would later years renew, and maize. As soon as she appeared, the
Alas! successive sorrows crowd the space.
whistling blackbird, the amadavid-bird, the
note of which is so soft, the cardinal, the
" But perhaps the most charming spot black frigate-bird, with its plumage the coof this inclosure was that which was called lour of flame, forsoook their bushes; the
The Repose of Virginia. At the foot of the paroquet, green as an emerald, descended
rock, which bore the name of The Dis- from the neighbouring fan palms; the parcovery of Friendship, is a nook, from tridge ran along the grass; all advanced
whence issues a fountain, forming, near its promiscuously towards her, like a brood of
source, a little spot of marshy soil in the chickens: and she and Paul delighted to
<midst of a field of rich grass. At the time observe their sports, their repasts, and their
3 argaret was delivered of Paul, I made loves.

,

12

16

PAUL AND

" Amiable children ! thus assed your
early days, in innocence, and in the exercise of benevolence. How many times, on
this very spot, have your mothers, pressing you in their arms, blessed Heaven
for the consolations your unfolding virtues
prepared for their declining years, while
already they enjoyed the satisfaction of seeing you begin life under the most happy
auspices ! How many times, beneath the
shade of those rocks, have I partaken with
them of your rural repasts, which cost no
animal its life! Gourds filled with milk,
fresh eggs, cakes of rice placed upon plantain leaves, baskets loaded with mangoes,
oranges, dates, pomegranates, pine apples
furnished at the same time the most wholesome food; the most beautiful colours, and
the most delicious juices.
" The conversation was gentle and innocent as the repasts. Paul often talked of the
labours of the day, and those of the morrow.
He was continually forming some plan of
accommodation for their little society.
Here he discovered that the paths were
rough ; there, that the family circle was
ill seated: sometimes the young arbours
did not afford sufficient shade, and Virginia
might be better pleased elsewhere.
" In the rainy seasons the two families
assembled together in the hut, and employed themselves in weaving mats of grass, and
baskets of bamboo. Rakes, spades, and hatchets, were ranged along the walls in the
most perfect order ; and near those instruments of agriculture were placed theproductions, which were the fruits of labour; sacks
of rice, sheaves of corn, and baskets of the
plantain fruit.
Some degree of luxury is
usually united with plenty; and Virginia
was taught by her mother and Margaret to
prepare sherbet and cordials from the juice
of the sugar-cane, the orange, and the citron.
"When night came, those families supped
together by the light of a lamp; after which,
Madame de la Tour or Margaret related
histories of travellers lost during the night
in such of the forests of Europe as are infested by banditti; or told a dismal tale of
some shipwrecked vessel, thrown by the
tempest upon the rocks of a desert island.
To these recitals their children listened with
eager sensibility, and darnestly begged that
Heaven would grant that they might one
day have the joy of showing their hospitality towards such unfortunate persons. At
length the two families separated and retired to rest, impatient to meet again the next
morning. Sometimes they were lulled to
repose by the beating rains, which fell in
torrents upon the roof of their cottages; and
sometimes by the hollow winds, which
brought to their ear the distant murmur of
the waves breaking upon the shore. They
nlessed God for their personal safety, of
which their feeling became stronger from
the idea of remote danger.
"Madame de la Tour occasionally read
aloud some affecting history of the Old or
New Testament. Her auditors reasoned
but little upon those sacred books, for their
theology consisted in sentiment, like that of

VIRGINIA.
nature; and their morality in action, like
that of the Gospel. Those families had no
particular days devoted to pleasure, and
others to sadness: every day was to them a
holiday, and all which surrounded them one
holy temple, where they for ever adored an
Infinite Intelligence, the friend of human
kind. A sentiment of confidence in his so.
preme power filled their minds with consa
lation under the past, with fortitude fo.
the present, and with hope for the future.
Thus, compelled by misfortune to return to
a state of nature, those women had unfolded
in their own bosoms, and in those of their
children, thefeelings which are mostnatural
to the human mind, and which are our best
support under evil.
"But as clouds sometimes arise, which
cast a gloom over the best-regulated tempers, whenever melancholy took possession
of any member of this little society, the rest
endeavoured to banish painful thoughts
rather by sentiment than by arguments.
Margaret exerted her gayety ; Madame de
la Tour employed her mild theology ; Virginia, her tender caresses; Paul his cordial
and engaging frankness. Even Mary and
Domingo hastened to offer their succour,
and to weep with those that wept. Thus
weak plants are interwoven in order to resist the tempests.
During the fine season, they went every
Sunday to the church of the Shaddock
Grove, the steeple of which you see yonder
upon the plain. After service, the poor often came to require some kind office at their
hands. Sometimes an unhappy creature
sought their advice, sometimes a child led
them to its sick mother in the neighbour
hood. They always took with them remedies for the ordinary diseases of the country, which they administered in that soothing manner, which stamps so much value
upon the smallest favours. Above all, they
succeeded in banishing the disorders of the
mind, which are so intolerable in solitude,
and under the infirmities of a weakened
frame. Madame de la Tour spoke with
such sublime confidence of the Divinity,
that the sick, while listening toher, believed
that he was present. Virginia often returned home with her eyes wet with tears,
and her heart overflowing with delight,
having had an opportunity of doing good.
After those visits of charity, they sometimes
prolonged their way by the Sloping Mountain, they reached my dwelling, where
till
I had prepared dinner for them, upon the
banks of the little river which glides near
my cottage. I produced on those occasions
some bottles of old wine, in order to heighten
the gayety of our Indian repast by the cordial productions of Europe. Sometimes we
met upon the sea shore, at the mouth of littlerivers, which are here scarcely larget
than brooks. We brought from the plantation our vegetable provisions, to which we
added suchas the sea furnished great
in
variety. Seated upon a rock, beneath the
shade of the velvet sun-flower, we heard
the mountain billows break at our feet with
a dashing noise; and sometimes on that
spot we listened to the plaintive strains of

PAUL AND
the water-curlew. Madame de la Tour
answered his sorrowful notes in the following sonnet:
SONNET
TO THE CURLEW.

Sooth'd by the murmurs on the sea-beat shore,
His dun grey plumage floating to the gal
The curlew blends his melancholy wail

VIRGINIA.

17

her widowhood, the kind reception she had
met with from Margaret, succeeded by the
soothing hope of a happy union between
their children, could not forbear weeping;
and the sensations which such recollections
excited, led the whole audience to pour
forth those luxurious tears, which have
their mingled source in sorrow and in joy.
" These dramas were performed with
such.an air of reality, that you might have

With those hoarse sonds the rushing waters pour.

Tike thee, congenial
The

bird ! my steps explore

bleak lone sea-beach, or the rocky dale,

And shun the orange bower, the myrtle vale,
Whose gay luxuriance suits my soul no more.
love tie ocean's broad expanse, when drest
In limpid clearness, or when tempests blow
When the smooth currents on its placid breast
low calm, as my past moments used to flow
Or when its troubled waves refuse to rest,

And seem the symbol of my present wo.

" Our repasts were succeeded by the
songs and dances of the two young people.
Virginia sang the happiness of pastoral life,
and the misery of those who were impelled,
by avarice, to cross the furious ocean, rather
than cultivate the earth, and enjoy its
peaceful bounties. Sometimes she performed a pantomine with Paul, in the manner
of the negroes. The first language of man
is pantomine; it is known to all nations,
and is so natural and so expressive, that the
children of the European inhabitants catch
it with facility from the negroes. Virginia
recalling, amongst the histories which her
mother had read to her, those which had
affected her most, represented the principal
events with beautiful simplicity. Sometimes at the sound of Domingo's tamtam
she appeared upon the green sward, bearing
apitcher upon her head, and advanced with
a timid step towards the source of a neigh.
bouring fountain, to draw water. Domingo-and Mary, who personated the shepherds
of Midian, forbade her to approach, andrepulsed her sternly. Upon which Paul flew
to her succour, beat away the shepherds,
filled Virginia's pitcher, and placing it upon:her head, bound her brows at the same
time with a wreath of the red flowers of the
Madagascar periwinkle, which served to
heighten the delicacy of her skin. Then
joining their sports, I took upon.methe part
of Raguel, and bestowed upon Paul my
daughter Zephora in marriage.
"Sometimes Virginia represented the unfortunate Ruth, returning poor and widowed to her own country, where, after so long
an absence, she found herself as in a foreign
land. Domingo and Mary personated the
reapers. Virginia followed their steps,
gleaning here and there a fewears of corn.
She was interrogated by Paulwith the gravity of a patriarch, and answered with a
faltering voice, his questions. Soon touched
with compassion he granted an asylum to
innocence, and hospitality to misfortune.
He filled Virginia's lap with plenty; and,
leading her towards us, as before the old
men of the city, declared his purpose to take
in marriage. At this scene, Madame de
la Tour, recalling the desolate situation in
which she had been left by her relations

her

an orchestra, suitable to the representation. The scene was generally placed in an
opening of the forest, where such parts of
the wood as were penetrable formed around
us numerous arcades of foliage, beneath
which we were sheltered from the heat during the whole day : but when the sun descended towards the horizon, its rays, broken
upon the trunks of the trees, diverged
amongst the shadows of the forest in long
lines of light, which produced the most sublime effect. Sometimes the whole of its
broad disk appeared at the end of an avenue,
spreading one dazzling mass of brightness.
The foliage of the trees, illuminated from
beneath by its saffron beams, glowed with
the lustre of the topaz and the emerald.
Their brown and mossy trunks appeared
transformed into columns of antique bronze;
and the birds, which had retired in silence
to their leafy shades to pass the night, sur
prised to see the radiance of a secondmorn.
ing, hailed the star of day with innumerable carols.
" Night soon overtook us during those
rural entertainments; but the purity of the
air, and the mildness of the climate, admitted of our sleeping in the woods, secure
from the injuries of the weather, and no less
secure from the molestation of robbers. At
our return the following day to our respective habitations, we found them exactly in
the same state in which they had been left.
In this island, which then had no commerce, there was so much simplicity and
good faith, that the doors of several houses
were without a key, and a lock was an object of curiosity to many of the natives.
"Amidst the luxuriant beauty of this favoured climate, Madame de la Tour often
regretted the quick succession from day to
night which takes place between the tropics, and which deprived her pensive mind
of that hour of twilight, the softened gloom
of which is so soothing and sacred to the
feelings of tender melancholy. This regret
is expressed in the following sonnet:
SONNET
TO THE TORRIDZONE.

Pathway of light ! o'er thy empurpled zone
With lavish charms perennial summer strays;
Soft 'midst thyspicy groves the zephyr plays,
While far around the rich perfumes are thrown;
The amadavid-bird for thee alone
Spreads his gay plumes, that catch thy vivid rays.
For thee she gems with liquid lustre blaze,
And Nature's various wealth is all thy own.

PAUL AND VIRGINIA.

Nut, ah ! not thine is twilight's doubtful gloom,

Those mild gradations, mingling day with night,
Here instant darkness shrouds thy genial bloom,
Nor leaves my pensive soul that lingering light,
When musing memory would each trace resume
Of ding pleasures in successive flight.,

When I come near you, you delight all my

charmazure
Isenses. Theblue ofofheaven is lessthe song
ing than the
your eyes, and

"Paul and Virginia had neither clock
nor almanack, nor book of chronology, history, or philosophy. The periods of their
lives were regulated by those of nature.
They knew the hours of the day by the shadows of the trees ; the seasons, by thetimes
when those trees bore flowers or fruit : and
the years, by the number of their harvests.
These soothing images diffused an inexpressible charm over their conversation.
It istime to dine,' said Virginia; 'the
shadows of the plantain.trees are at their
roots;' or, 'Night approaches; the tamarinds close their leaves.'-' When will you
come to see ?' inquired some of her comus
panions in the neighbourhood. 'At the
time of the sugar-canes,' answered Virginia.-' Your visit will be then still more delightful,' resumed her young acquaintances.
When she was asked what was her own
age, and that of Paul, 'My brother,' said
she, 'is as old as the great cocoa-tree of the
fountain; and I am as old as the little cocoa-tree. The mangoes have borne fruit
twelve times, and the orange-trees have
borne flowers four and twenty times, since
I came into the world.' Their lives seemed
linked to the trees, like those of Fauns or
Dyrads. They knew no other historical
epochas than that of the lives of their mothers, or other chronology than that of
their orchards, and no other philosophy
than that of doing good, and resigning
themselves to the will of Heaven.
" Thus grew those children of nature.
No care had troubled their peace, no intemperance had corrupted their blood, no
misplaced passion had depraved their hearts.
Love, innocence, and piety, possessed their
souls ; and those intellectual graces unfolded themselves in their features, their attitudes, and their motions. Still in the morning of life, they had all its blooming freshness; and surely such in the garden of
Eden appeared our first parents, when,
coming from the hands of God, they first
saw, approached, and conversed together,
like brother and sister. Virginia was gentle, modest, and confiding as Eve; and
Paul, like Adam, united the figure of manhood with the simplicity of a child.
"When alone with Virginia, he has a
thousandtimes told me he used to sayto her,
at his return from labour, ' When I am
wearied, the sight of you refreshes me. If
from the summit of the mountain I perceive you below in the valley, you appear to
me in the midst of our orchard like a blushing rose-bud. If you go towards our mother's house, the partridge, when it runs to
meet its young, has a shape less beautiful,
and step less light. When I lose sight of
you through the trees, I have no need to
see you in order to find you again. Something of you, I know not how, remains for
me in the air where you have passed, in
the grass where you have been seated.

of the amadavid-bird less soft than the
sound of your voice. If I only touch you
with my finger, my whole frame trembles
with pleasure. Do you remember the day
when we crossed over the great stones of
the river of the Three Peaks? I was very
much tired before we reached the bank,
but as soon as I had taken you in my arms,
1 seemed to have wings like a bird. Tell
me by what charm you have so enchanted
me? Is it by your wisdom? Our mothers
have more than either of us. Is it by your
caresses ? They embrace me much oftener
than you. I think it must be by your goodness. I shall never forget how you walked
bare-footed to the Black River, to ask pardon for the poor wandering slave. Here,
my beloved ! take this flowering orangebranch, which I have culled in the forest ;
you will place it at night near your bed.Eat this honey-comb which I have taken
for you from the top of a rock: But first
lean upon my bosom, and I shall be re.
freshed.'
" Virginia then answered, ' , my dear
brother, the rays of the sun in the morning
at the top of the rocks give me less joy than
the sight of you. I love my mother, I love
yours; but when they call you their son, I
love them a thousand times more. When
they caress you, I feel it more sensibly than
when I am caressed myself. You ask me
why you love me? Why, all creatures
that are brought up together love one another. Look at our birds reared up in the
same nests-they love like us-they are always together likeus. Hark! how they call
and answer from one tree to another. So
when the echoes bring to my ear the airs
which you play upon your flute at the top
of the mountain, I repeat the words at the
bottom of the valley. Above all, you are
dear to me since the day when you wanted
to fight the master of the slave for me.
Since that time how often have I said to
myself, 'Ah, my brother has a good heart ;
but for him I should have died of terror. I
pray to God every day for my mother and
yours; for you, and for our poor servants:
but when I pronounce your name,my devotion seems to increase. I ask so earnestly of
God, that no harm may befal you! Why
do you go so far, and climb so high, to seek
fruits and flowers for me ? How much you
are fatigued !'-and with her little white
handkerchief she wiped the damps from
his brow.
"For some time past, however, Virginia
had felt her heart agitated by new sensations. Her fine blue eyes lost their lustre,
her cheek its freshness, and her frame was
seized with universal langour. Serenity
no longer sat upon her brow, nor smiles
played upon her lips. She became suddenly gay without joy, and melancholy without
vexation. She fled her innocent sports, her
gentle labours, and the society of her be.
loved family; wandering along the most
unfrequented parts of the plantation, andi
seeking every where that rest which she

PAUL AND VIRGINIA.

19

could no where find. Sometimes at the She thought of Paul's friendship, sweeter
sight of Paul she advanced sportively to- than the odours, purer than the waters of
wards him, and, when going to accost him, the fountain, stronger than the intertwin.
was seized with sudden confusion ; her ing palm-trees; and she sighed. Reflecting
pale cheeks were overspread with blushes, upon the hour of the night, and the prodared to meet those found solitude, her imagination again grew
and her eyes no longer
of her brother. Paul said to her, 'The disordered. Suddenly she flew affrighted
rocks are covered with verdure, our birds from those dangerous shades, and those wabegin to sing when you approach; every ters which she fancied hotter than the tor.
thing around you is gay, and you only are rid sun-beam, and ran to her mother, in orunhappy.'
He endeavoured to soothe her der to find a refuge from herself. Often
by his embraces, but she turned away her wishing tounfold her sufferings, she pressed
head, and fled trembling towards her mo- her mother's hand within her own; often
ther. The caresses of her brother excited she was ready to pronounce the name of
too much emotion in her agitated heart. Paul; but her oppressed heart left not her
Paul could not comprehend the meaning of lips the power of utterance; and, leaning
those new and strange caprices.
her head on her mother's bosom, she could
One of those summers, which sometimes only bathe it with her tears.
desolate the countries situated between the
"Madame de la Tour, though she easily
tropics, now spread its ravages over this discerned the source of her daughter's unisland. It was near the end of December, easiness, did not think proper to speak to
when the sun in Capricorn darts over Mau- her on that subject. 'My dear child,' said
ritius, during the space of three weeks its she, ' address yourselfto God, who disposes,
vertical fires. The south wind, which pre- at his will, of health and of life. He tries
vails almost throughout the whole year, no you now, in order to recompense you herelonger blew. Vast columns of dust arose after. Remember that we are only placed
from the highways, and hung suspended in upon earth for the exercise of virtue.'
the air; the ground was every where
" The excessive heat drew vapours from
broken into clefts; the grass was burnt ; the ocean, which hung over the island like
hot exhalations issued from the sides of the a vast awning, and gathered round the summountains, and their rivulets for the most mits of the mountains, while long flakes of
part became dry; fiery vapours, during th- fire occasionally issued from their misty
day, ascended from the plains, and appeared peaks. Soon after the most terrible thunat the setting of the sun like a conflagra- der re-echoed through the woods, the
tion. Night brought no coolness to the plains, and the valleys, the rains fell from
heated atmosphere; the orb of the moon the skies like cataracts; foaming torrents
seemed of blood, and rising in a misty hori- rolled down the sides of this mountain; the
zon, appeared of supernatural magnitude. bottom of the valley became a sea; the plat
The drooping cattle, on the sides of the of ground, on which the cottages were
hills, stretching out their necks towards built, a little island; and the entrance of
heaven, and panting for air, made the val- this valley a sluice, along which rushed
leys re-echo with their melancholy lowings ; precipitately the moaning waters, earth,
even the Caffree, by whom they were led, trees, and rocks.
threw himself upon the earth, in search of
" Meantime the trembling family adcoolness: but the scorching sun had every dressed their prayers to God in the cottage
where penetrated, and the stifling atmo. of Madame de la Tour, the roof of which
sphere resounded with the buzzing noise of cracked horribly from the struggling winds.
insects, who sought to allay their thirst in So vivid and frequent were the lightnings,
the blood of men and of animals.
that, although the doors and window-shut"On one of those sultry nights, Virginia, ters were well fastened, every object withrestless and unhappy, arose, then went out was distinctly seen through the jointed
again to rest, but could find in no attitude beams. Paul, followed by Domingo, went
either slumber or repose. At length she with intrepidity from one cottage to anobent her way, by the light of the moon, to- ther, notwithstanding the fury of the temwards her fountain, and gazed at its spring, pest; here supporting a partition with a
which, notwithstanding the drought, still buttress, there driving in a stake, and only
flowed like silver threads down the brown returning to the family to calm their fears,
sides of the rock. She flung herself into by the hope that the storm was passing
the bason; its coolness reanimated her away. Accordingly, in the evening the
spirits, and a thousand soothing remem- rains ceased, the trade-winds of the south
brances presented themselves to her mind. pursued their ordinary course, the tempes.
She recollected that in her infancy her mo- tuous clouds were thrown towards the
ther and Margaret amused themselves by iorth-east, and the setting sun appeared in
bathing her with Paul in this very spot; the horizon.
that Paul afterwards, reserving this bath
" Virginia's first wish was to visit the
for her use only, had dug its bed, covered spot called her Repose. Paul approached
the bottom with sand, and sown aromatic her with a timid air, and offered her the
herbs around the borders. She saw, re, assistance of his arm, which she accepted,
flected through the water upon her naked smiling, and they left the cottage together.
arms and bosom, the two cocoa trees which The air was fresh and clear; white vapours
were planted at her birth and that of her arose from the ridges of the mountain, furbrother, and which interwove about her rowed here and there by the foam of the
head their green branches and young fruit, torrents, which were now becoming dry.

20.

PAUL AND VIRGINIA.

The garden was altogether destroyed by the
hollows which the floods had worn, the
roots of the fruit trees were for the most
part laid bare, and vast heaps of sand covered the chain of meadows, and choked
up Virginia's bath. The two cocoa-trees,
however, were still erect, and still retained
their freshness; but they were no longer
surrounded by turf, or arbours, or birds,
except a few amadavid-birds, who, upon the
points of the neighbouring rocks, lainented,
in plaintive notes, the loss of their young.
'At the sight of this general desolation,
Virginia exclaimed to Paul, ' You brought
birds hither, and the hurricane has killed
them. You planted this garden, and it is
now destroyed. Every thing then upon
earth perishes, and it is only Heaven that
is not subject to change.'-' Why,' answered Paul, ' why cannot I give you something
which belongs to Heaven ; but I am possessed of nothing even upon earth.' Virginia, blushing, resumed, ' You have the pic..
ture of St. Paul.' Scarcely had she pronounced the words, when he flew in search
'of it to his mother's cottage. This picture
was a small miniature, representing Paul
the Hermit, and which Margaret, who was
very pious, had long worn hung at her neck
when she was a girl, and which, since she
became a mother, she had placed round the
neck of her child. It had even happened,
that being, while pregnant, abandoned by
the whole world, and continually employed
in contemplating the image of this benevolent recluse, her offspring had contracted,
at least so she fancied, some resemblance to
this revered object. She therefore bestowed upon him the name of Paul, giving him
for his patron a saint who had passed his
life far from mankind, by whom he had
been first deceived, and then forsaken.
Virginia, upon receiving this little picture
from the hands of Paul, said to him, with
emotion, ' My dear brother, I will never
part with this while I live; nor will I ever
forget that you have given me the only
thing which you possess in the world.' At
this tone of friendship, this unhoped-for return of familiarity and tenderness, Paul attempted to embrace her : but, light as a
bird, she fled, and left him astonished, and
unable to account for a conduct so extraordinary.
" Meanwhile Margaret said to Madame
sie la Tour, 'Why do we not unite our
children by marriage? They have a tenMadame
der attachment to each other.'
de la Tour replied, 'They are too young,
and too poor. What grief would it occasion us to see Virginia bring into the world
unfortunate children, whom she would not
perhaps have sufficient strength to rear !
Your negro, Domingo, is almost too old to
labour ; Mary is infirm. As for myself,my
dear friend, in the space of fifteen years, I
find my strength much failed; age advances rapidly in hot climates, and above
all, under the pressure of misfortune. Paul
is our only hope : let us wait till his consti.
tution is strengthened, and till he can support us by his labour : at present you well
know that we have only sufficient to supply

the wants of the day; but were we to send
Paul for a short time to the Indies, cornmerce would furnish him with the means
of purchasing a slave; and at his return
we will unite him to Virginia; for I am
persuaded no one on earth can render her
so happy as your son. We willconsult our
neighbour on this subject.
' They accordingly asked my advice; and
I was of their opinion. 'The Indian seas,' I
observed to them 'are calm, and in choosing
a favourable season, the voyage is seldom
longer than six weeks. We will furnish
Paul with a little venture in my neighbour.
hood, where he is much beloved. If we
were only to supply him with some raw cot.
ton of which we make no use, for want of.
mills to work it, some ebony, which is here
so common that it serves us for firing, and
some rosin, which is found in our woods;
all those articles will sell advantageously in
the Indies, though to us they are useless.'
" I engaged to obtain permission from
Monsieur de la Bourdonnais to undertake
this voyage ; but I determined previously
to mention the affair to Paul: and mysurprise was great, when this young man said
to me, with a degree of good sense above
his age, ' And why do you wish me to leave
my family for this precarious pursuit of
Fortune? Is there any commerce more advantageous than the culture of the ground,
which yields sometimes fifty or a hundred
fold? If we wish to engage in commerce,
we can do so by carrying our superfluities
to the town, without my wandering to the
Indies. Our mothers tell me, that Domingo is old and feeble, but I am young, and
gather strength every day. If any accident
should happen during my absence, above
all, to Virginia, who already suffers-Oh,
no, no !-I cannot resolve to leave them.'
" This answer threw me into great perplexity, for Madame de la Tour had not
concealed from me the situation of Virginia,
and her desire of separating those young
people for a few years. These ideas I did
not dare to suggest to Paul.
"At this period a ship,which arrived from
France,brought Madame de la Tour a letter
from her aunt. Alarmed by the terrors of
approaching death, which could alone pe.
netrate a heart so insensible, recovering
from a dangerous disorder, which had left
her in a state of weakness, rendered incurable by age, she desired that her niece
would return to France; or, if her health
forbade her to undertake so long a voyage,
she conjured her to send Virginia, on whom
she would bestow a good education, procure for her a splendid marriage, and leave
her the inheritance of her whole fortune.
The perusal of this letter spread general
consternation through the family. Domin.
go and Mary began to weep. Paul, motionless with surprise, appeared as if his
heart was ready to burst with indignation;
while Virginia, fixing her eyes upon her
mother, had not power to utter a word.
" ' And can you now leave us ?' cried
Margaret to Madame de la Tour.-' No,
my dear friend; no, my beloved children,'
replied Madame de la Tour; ' I will not

PAUL AND VIRGINIA
leave you. I have lived with you, and with
you I will die. I have known no happiness
but in your affection. If my health be deranged, my past misfortunes are the cause.
My heart, deeply wounded by the cruelty
of a relation and the loss of my husband,
has found more consolation and felicity
with you beneath these humble huts, than
all the wealth of my family could now give
me in my own country.'
"At this soothing language every eye
overflowed with tears of delight.
Paul
pressed Madame de la Tour in his arms,
exclaiming, 'Neither will I leave you! I
will not go to the Indies. We will all labour for you, my dear mother; and you shall
never feel any wants from us.' But of the
whole society, the person who displayed the
least transport, and who probably felt the
most, was Virginia; and during the remainderofthe day, that gentle gayety which
flowed from her heart, and proved that her
peace was restored, completed the general
satisfaction.
" The next day, at -sun-rise, while they
were offering up, as usual, their morning
sacrifice of praise, which preceded their
breakfast, Domingo informed them that a
gentleman on horseback, followed by two
slaves, was coming towards the plantation.
This person was Monsieur de la Bourdonnais. He entered the cottage, where he
found the family at breakfast. Virginia,
had prepared, according to the custom of
the country, coffee and rice boiled in water; to which she added hot yams, and
fresh cocoas. The leaves of the plantaintree supplied the want of table-linen, and
calbasia shells, split in two, served for-utensils. governor expressed some surprise
The
at the homeliness of the dwelling; then addressing himself to Madame de laTour, he
observed, that although public affairs drew
his attention too much from the concerns of
individuals, she had many claims to his
good offices. ' You have an aunt at Paris,
madam,' he added, ' a woman of quality, and
immensely rich, who expects that you will
hasten to-see her, and who means to'bestow
upon you her whole fortune.' Madame de
laTour replied, that the state of her health
would not permit her to undertake so long
a voyage. 'At least,' resumed Monsieur
de la Bourdonnais, ' you cannot, without
injustice, deprive this amiable young lady,
your daughter, of so noble an inheritance.
will not conceal from you, that your aunt
has made use of her influence to oblige you
to "ieturn; and that I have received official
letters, in which I am ordered to exert my
authority, if necessary, to that effect. But,
as I only wish to employ my power for the
purpose of rendering the inhabitants of
this colony happy, I expect from your good
sense the voluntary sacrifice of a few
years, upon which depends your daughter's
establishment inii world, andthe welfare
the
of your whole life. Wherefore do we come
to these islands ? Is it not to acquire a
fortune ? And will it not be more agreeaole to return and find it in your own
country ?'
"He then placed a great bag of piasters,

I

e21

which had been brought hither by one of
his slaves, upon the table. 'This,' added
he, 'is allotted by your aunt for the preparations necessary for the young lady's voyage.' Gently reproaching Madame de la
Tour for not having had recourse to him
in her difficulties, he extolled, at the same
time, her noble fortitude. Upon this Paul
said to the governor, 'My mother did address herself to you, Sir, and you received
her ill.'-' Have you another child, ma.
dam ?' said Monsieur de la Bourdonnais to
Madame de la Tour.-' No, Sir,' she replied : 'thisis the childof my friend; but
he and Virginia are equally dear to us.''Young man,' said the governor to Paul,
'when you have acquired a little more experience of the world, you will know, that
it is the misfortune of people in place to be
deceived, and thence to bestow upon intriguing vice, that which belongs to modest
merit.'
" Monsieur.de laBourdonnais, at the request of Madame delaTour, placed himself
next her at table, and breakfasted in the
manner of the Creoles, upon coffee, mixed
with rice boiled in water. He was delighted with the order and neatness which prevailed in the little cottage, the harmohy of
the two interesting families, and the zeal
of their old servants. 'Here,' exclaimed
he, ' I discern only wooden furniture; but
I find serene countenances, and hearts of
gold.' Paul, enchanted with the affability
of the governor, said to him, 'I wish to be
your friend; you are a good man.' Monsieur de la Bourdonnais received with
pleasure this insular compliment; and,
taking Paul by the hand, assured him that
he might rely upon his friendship.
" After breakfast, he took Madame de
laTour aside, and informed her, that an
opportunity presented itself of sending her
daughter to France, in a ship which was
going to sail in a short time; that he would
recommend her to a lady, a relation of his
own, who would be a passenger, and that
she must not think of renouncing an im.
mense fortune, on account of being separated from her daughter a few years.
'Your aunt,'
added, 'cannot live more
than two years; of this I am assured by
her friends. Think of it seriously. Fortune does not visit us every day. Consult
your friends. Every person of good sense
will be of my opinion.'
She answered,
that, desiring no other happiness henceforth in the world than that of her
daughter, she would leave her depar.ture for France entirely to her own inclination.
" Madame de
Tour was not sorry to
find an opportunity of separating Paul and
Virginia for a short time, and provide, by
this means, for their mutual felicity at a
future period. She took her daughter
aside, and said to her, 'My dear child, our
servants are now old, Paul is still very
young, Margaret is advanced in years, and
I am already infirm. If I should die, what
will become of yos, without fortune, in the
midst of these deserts? You will then be
left alone, without asy person who can 'f

,he

la

22

PAUL AND VIRGINIA.

ford much succour, and forced to labour thegovernor of the success of his mission.
you
without ceasing, in order to support your In the mean time Madame de laTour sent
wretched existence. This idea fills my Domingo to desire I would come hither,
soul with sorrow.' Virginia answered, that she might consult me upon Virginia's
I was of opinion that she
'God has appointed us to labour. You departure.
have taught me to labour, and to bless him ought not to go. I consider it as a fixed
every day. He never has forsaken us, he principle of happiness that we ought to
never will forsake us. His providence pe- prefer the advantages of nature to those of
culiarly watches the unfortunate. You fortune; and never go in search of that at
have told me this often, my dear mother ! a distance, which we may find in our own
I cannot resolve to leave you.' Madame I bosoms.
But what could be expected
de la Tour replied, with much emotion, from my moderate counsels, opposed to the
' I have no other aim than to render you illusions of a splendid fortune; and my
happy, and to marry you one day to Paul, simple reasoning, contradicted by the prewho is not your brother. Reflect at pre- judices of the world, and an authority
which Madame de la Tour held sacred?
sent that his fortune depends upon you.'
" A young girl who loves, believes that This lady had only consulted me from a
all the world is ignorant of her passion ; sentiment of respect; and had, in reality,
she throws over her eyes the veil which she ceased to deliberate since she had heard
has thrown over her heart : but when it is the decision of her confessor. Margaret
lifted up by some cherishing hand, the se- herself, who, notwithstanding the advancret inquietudes of passion suddenly burst tages she hoped for her son from the postheir bounds, and the soothing overflowings session of Virginia's fortune, had hitherto
of confidence
succeedthat reserve and opposed her departure, made no further
mystery with which the oppressed heart objections. As for Paul, ignorant of what
had enveloped its feelings. Virginia, deep- was decided, and alarmed at the secret
ly affected by this new proof of her mother's conversation which Madame de la Tour
tenderness, related to her how cruel had held with her daughter, he abandoned
been'those struggles which Heaven alone himself to deep melancholy. 'They are
had witnessed; declared that she saw the plotting something against my peace,' cried
succour of Providence in that of an affec- he, 'since they are so careful of concealtionate mdther, who approved of her at- ment.'
" A report having in the mean time been
tachment, and would guide her by her
counsels; that, being now strengthened by spread over the island, that fortune had
such support, every consideration led her visited those rocks, we beheld merchants of
to remain with her mother, without anxiety all kinds climbing their steep ascent, and
for the present, and without apprehension displaying in those humble huts the richest
for thefuture.
stuffs of India. The fine dimity of Gon" Madame de la Tour perceiving that delore; the handkerchiefs of Pellicate and
this confidential conversation had produced Mussulapatam; the plain, striped, and
an effect altogether different from that embroidered muslins of Dacca, clear as the
which she expected, said; ' My dear child, day. Those merchants unrolled the gorI will not any more constrain your inclina- geous silks of China, white satin damaskb,
tion: deliberate at leisure, but conceal others of grass-green, and bright red; roseyour feelings from Paul.'
coloured taffetas, a profusion of satins,
"Towards evening, when Madame de la pelongs, and gauze of Tonquin, some plain,
Tour and Virginia were again together, and some beautifully decorated with
their confessor, who was a missionary in flowers; the soft pekins, downy like cloth;
the island, entered the room, having been white and yellow nankeens, and the calisent by the governor. ' My children,' he coes of Madagascar.
"Madame delaTour wished her daughexclaimed as he entered, ' God be praised !
you are now rich. You can now listen to ter to purchase every thing she liked; and
the kind suggestion of your excellent Virginia made choice of whatever she behearts, and do good to the poor. I know lieved would be agreeable to her mother,
what Monsieur de la Bourdonnais has said Margaret, and her son. ' This,' said she,
to you, and what you have answered. 'will serve forfurniture, and that will be
Your health, dear madam, obliges you to useful to Mary and Domingo.' In short,
remain here; but you, young lady, are the bag of piasters was emptied before she
without excuse. We must obey the will had considered her own wants; and she
of Providence; and we must also obey our was obliged to receive a share of the pre.
aged relations, even when they are unjust. sents which she had distributed to the
A sacrifice is required of you: but it is the family circle.
" Paul, penetrated with sorrow at the
order of God. He devoted himself for
you; and you, in imitation of his example, sight of those gifts of fortune, which he
must devote yourself for the welfare of felt were the presage of Virginia's departyour family. Your voyage to France will ure, came a few days after to my dwelling.
have a happy termination. You will surely With ar air of despondency he said to me
'My sister is going; they are already mak
consent to go, my dear young lady ?'
" Virginia, with downcast eyes, answered ingpreparations for her voyage. I conjure,
trembling, 'If it be the command of God, you to come and exert your influence ove:
I will not presume to oppose it. Let the her mother and mine, in order to detair
will of God be done!' said she weeping.
her here.' I could not refuse the young
"The priest went away, and informed man's solicitations, although well convinced

PAUL AND

VIRGINIA.

23

that my representations would be unavail- mits of the rocks, the weak cry and the soft
inF.
murmurs of the birds, exulting in the
SIf
Virginia had appeared to me charm- brightness of the night, and the serenity of
ing, when clad in the blue cloth of Bengal, the atmosphere. The hum of insects was
with a red handkerchief tied round her heard in the grass. The stars sparkled in
head, how much was her beauty improved, the heavens, and their trembling and lucid
when decorated with the graceful orna- orbs were reflected upon the bosom of the
ments worn by the ladies of this country ! ocean. Virginia's eyes wandered over its
She was dressed in white muslin, lined vast and gloomy horizon, distinguishable
with rose-coloured taffeta. Her small and from the bay of the island by the red fires
elegant shape was displayed to advantage in the fishing-boats. She perceived at the
by her corset, and the lavish profusion of entrance of the harbour a light and a shaher light tresses were carelessly blended dow: these were the watch-light and the
with her simple head-dress. Her fine blue body of the vessel in which she was to emeyes were filled with an expression of bark for Europe, and which, ready to set
melancholy; and the struggles of passion, sail, lay at anchor, waiting for the wind.
with which her heart was agitated, flushed Affected at this sight, she turned away
her cheek, and gave her voice a tone of her head, in order to hide her tears from
emotion. The contrast between her pen- Paul.
sive look and her gay habiliments rendered
" Madame de la Tour, Margaret, and
her more interesting than ever; nor was myself were seated at a little distance beitpossible to see or hear her unmoved. neath the plantain trees; and amidst the
Paul became more and more melancholy. stillness of the night we distinctly heard
At length Margaret, distressed by the si- their conversation, which I have not fortuation of her son, took him aside and said gotten.
to him,
my dear son, will you
"Paul said to her, 'You are going, they
cherish vain hopes, which will only render tell me, in three days. You do not fear
your disappointment more bitter? It is then to encounter the danger of the sea at
time that I should make known to you the which you are so much terrified ?'-' I
secret of your life and of mine; Made- must fulfil my duty, answered Virginia,
moiselle de la Tour belongs by her mother by obeying my parent.'-' You leave us,'
to a rich and noble family, while you are resumed Paul, 'for a distant relation, whom
but the son of a poor peasant girl: and, you have never seen.'- Alas !' cried Vir.
what is worse, you are a natural child.'
ginia, 'I would have remained my whole
" Paul, who had never before heard this life here, but my mother would not have it
last expression, inquired with eagerness its so. My confessor told me that it was the
meaning. His mother replied, 'You had will God I should and that was a
of
go,
life
no legitimate father. When I was a girl, trial!'
seduced by love, I was guilty of a weakness,
" ' What!' exclaimed Paul, 'you have
of which you are the offspring. My fault found so many reasons then for going, and
deprived you of the protection of a father's not one for remaining here! Ah ! there is
family, and my flight from home of that of'one reason for your departure which you
a mother's family. Unfortunate child! have not mentioned. Riches have great
you have no relation in the world but me!' attractions. You will soon find in the new
and she shed a flood of tears. Paul, press- world, to which you are going, another, to
inmg in his arms, exclaimed, ' Oh ! my whom you will give the name of brother,
her
dear mother! since I have no relation in which you will bestow on me no more.
the world but you, I will love you still You will chQose that brother from amongst
more ! But what a secret have you dis- persons who are worthy of you by their
closed to me ! I now see the reason why birth, and by a fortune which I have not to
Mademoiselle de laTour has estranged her- offer.
But where will you go in order to
self from me for two months past, and why be happier? On what shore will you land
she has determined to go. Ah ! I per- which will be dearer to you than the spot
ceive too well that she despises me!'
which gave you birth? Where will you
"The hour of supper being arrived, we find a society more interesting to you than
placed ourselves at table; but the dif- this by which you are so beloved? How
ferent sensations with which we were all will you bear to live without your mother's
agitated, left us little inclination to eat ; caresses, to which you are so accustomed ?
and the meal passed in silence. Virginia What will become of her, already advancfirst went out, and seated herself on the ed in years, when she will no longer see you
very spot where we now are placed. Paul at her side at table, in the house, in the
hastened after her, and seated himself by walks where she used to lean upon you?
her side. It was one of those delicious What will become of my mother who loves
nights, which are so common between the you with the same affection? What shall
tropics, and the beauty of which no pencil I say to comfort them when I see them
can trace. The moon appearedin themidst weeping for your absence? Cruel! I speak
of the firmament, curtained in clouds, not to you of myself; but what will
become
which her beams gradually dispelled. Her of me, when in the morning I shall no more
light insensibly spread itself over the moun- see you; when the evening will come, and
tains the island, and their peaks'glistened will not re-unite us! When I shall gaze
of
with a silvered green. The winds were per. on the two palm-trees, planted at our birth,
fectly still. We heard along the woods at and so long the witness of our mutual
the bottom of the valleys, and on the sum- friendship? Ah ! since a new destiny at.

'Why,

24

PAUL AND VIRGINIA.

tracts you, since you seek in a country, fis- no more! May the waves, rolling back
tant from your own, other possessions than our corpses amidst the stones of the beach,
those which were the fruits of my labour, give you, in the loss of your two children,
let me accompany you in the vessel in an eternal subject of remorse!'
which you are going to embark. I will
" At these words, I seized him in my
animate your courage in the midst of those arms, for despair had deprived him of rea.
tempests, at which you are so terrified even son. His eyes flaOhed
fire, big drops of
on shore. I will lay your head on my bo- sweat hung upon his face, his
knees trem.
som. I will warm your heart upon my bled, and 1 felt his heart beat violently
own; and in France, where you go, in against his burning bosom.
search of fortune and of grandeur, I will
" Virginia, affrighted, said to him, 'Oh,
attend you as your slave.
Happy only my friend, I call to witness the pleasures of
in your happiness, you will findme in those I our early age, your sorrow and my own,
palaces where I shall see you cherished and and every thing that cals for ever bind two
adored, at least sufficiently noble to make unfortunate beings to each other, that if I
for you the greatest ofall sacrifices by dying remain, I will live but for you; that if I
at your feet.'
go, I will one day return to be yours. I
"The violence of his emotion stifled his call you all to witness, you who have reared
voice; and we then heard that of Virginia, my infancy, who dispose of my life, who see
which, broken by sobs, uttered these words : my tears; I swear by that Heaven which
' It is for you I go : for you, whom I see i hears me, by the sea which I am going to
every day bent beneath the labour of sus- pass, by the air I breathe, and which I
taining infirm families. If I have ac- never sullied bya falsehood.'
two
cepted this opportunity of becoming rich,
" As the sun softens and dissolves an icy
it is only to return you a thousand-fold the rock upon the summit of the Appenines, so
good which you have done us. Is there any the impetuous passions of the young man
fortune worthy of your friendship ? Why were subdued by the voice of her he loved.
do you talk to me of your birth ? Ah ! if He bent his head, and a flood of tears fell
it was again possible to give me a brother, from his eyes.
His mother, mingling her
should I make choice of any other than tears with his, held him in her arms, but
you ? Oh, Paul ! Paul! you are far dearer was unable to speak. Madame de la Tour,
to me than a brother ! How much has it half-distracted, said to me, 'I can bear this
cost me to avoid you! Help me to tear no longer. My heart is broken. This unmyself from what I value more than exis- fortunate voyage shall not take place. Do
tence, till Heaven can bless our union, take my son home with you. It is eight
But I will stay or go ; I will live or die; days since anyone here has slept.
dispose of me as you will.
Unhappy, that I
"I said to Paul, ' My dear friend, your
am! I could resist your caresses, but I am sister will remain. To-morrow we will speak
unable to support your affliction.'
to the governor; leave your family to take
" At these words Paul seized her in his some rest, and come and pass the night
arms, and holding her pressed fast to his with me.'
bosom, cried, in a piercing tone, 'I will go
" He suffered himself to be led away in
with her; nothing shall divide us.' We silence; and, after a night of great agitaran towards him : and Madame de laTour tion, he arose at break of day, and returnsaid to him, ' My son, if you go, what will ed home.
become of us?'
" But why should I continue any longer
" He, trembling, repeated the words, the recital of this history? There is never
' My son !-My son !-You my mother!' but one aspect of human life which we can
cried he; 'you, who would separatethe bro- contemplate with pleasure. Like the globe,
ther from the sister ! We have both been upon which we revolve, our fleeting course
Vourished at your bosom; we have both is but a day ; and if one part of that day
been reared upon your knees; we have be visited by light, the other is thrown into
learnt of you to love each other ; we have darkness."
said so a thousand times; and now you
" Father," I answered, " finish, I conwould separate her from me! You send jure you, the history which you have beher to Europe, that barbarous country gun in a manner so interesting. If the
which refused you an asylum, and to rela- images of happiness are most pleasing, those
tions by whom you were abandoned. You of misfortune are more instructive. Tell
will tell me that I have.no right over her, me what became of the unhappy young
and that she is not my sister. She is every man."
thing to me, riches, birth, family, my sole
"The first
object which Paul beheld in
good ! I know no other. We have had his way home was Mary, who, mounted upbut one roof, one cradle, and we will have on a rock, was earnestly looking towards
butone grave. If she goes, I will follow the sea.
As soon as he perceived her, he
her. The governor will prevent me? Will called to her from a distance, 'Where is
heprevent me from flinging myself into the Virginia ?' Mary turned her head towards
sea? Will he prevent me from following her young master, and began to weep.
her by swimming ? The sea cannot bemore Paul, distracted, and treading back his
fa alto me than the land. Since I cannot steps, ran to the harbour. He was there
live with her, at least I will die before her informed, that Virginia had embarked at
eyes; far from you, inhuman mother! wo. break of day, that the vessel had immeman without compassion! May the ocean, diately after set sail, and could no longer
to which you trust her, restore her to you be discerned. He instantly returned to the

PAUL AND VIRGINIA.
plantation, which he crossed without uttering a word.
Although the pile of rocks behind us
appears almost perpendicular, those green
platforms which separate their summits are
so many stages, by means of which
you may reach, through some difficult
paths, that cone of hanging and inaccessible rock, called. the Thumb. At the foot
of that cone is a stretching slope ofground,
covered with lofty trees, and which is so
high and steep that it appears like a forest
in air, surrounded by tremendous precipices. The clouds, which are attracted
round the summit of those rocks, supply innumerable rivulets, which rush from soimmense a height into that deep valley situated behind the mountain, that from this elevated point we do not hear the sound of
their fall. On that spot you can discern a
considerable part of the-island with its precipices crowned with their majestic peaks;
and, amongst others, Peterbath, and the
Three Peaks, with their valley filled with
woods.
You also command an extensive
view of the ocean, and even perceive the
Isle of Bourbon, forty leagues towards the
west. From the summit of that stupendous
pile of rocks Paul gazed upon the vessel
which had borne away Virginia, and
which now, ten leagues outat sea, appeared
like a black spot in the midst of the ocean.
He remained a great part of the day with
his eyes fixed upon this object ; when it
had disappeared, he still fancied he beheld
it: and when, at length, the traces which
clung to his imagination were lost amidst
the gathering mists of the horizon, he seated
himself on that wild point, for ever beaten
by the winds, which never cease to agitate
the tops of the cabbage and gum-trees, and
the hoarse and moaning murmurs of which,
similar to the distant, sounds of organs, inspire a deep melancholy. On that spot I
found Paul, with his head reclined on the
rock, and his eyes fixed upon the ground.
I had followed him since break of day, and
aftermuch importunity,I prevailed with him
to descend from the heights, and return to
his family. I conducted him to the plantation, where the first impulse of his mind,
upon seeing Madame de la Tour, was to
reproach her bitterly for having deceived
him. Madame de la Tour told us, that a
favourable wind having arose at three
o'clock in the morning, and the vessel being ready to set sail, the governor, attended by his general officers and the missionary, had come with a palanquin in search'bf
Virginia; and that, notwithstanding her
own objections, her tears, and those of
Margaret, all the while exclaiming that it
was for the general welfare, they had carried away Virginia almost dying. ' At
least,' cried Paul, 'if I had bid her fare.
well, I should now be more calm.
I
would have said to her-Virginia, if during
the time we have lived together, one word
may have escaped me which has offended
you, before you leave me for ever, tell me
that you forgive me. I would have said
to her, Since I am destined to see you no
more, farewell, my dear Virginia, fare-

25

well I Live, far from me, contented and
happy!'
"When he saw that his mother and Madame de la Tour were weeping, 'You must
now,' said he, 'seek some other than me to
wipe away your tears:' and then, rushing
out of the house, he wandered up and down
the plantation. He flew eagerly to those
spots which had been most dear to Virginia. He said to the goats and their kids,
which followed him, bleating, ' What do
you ask of me ? You will see her no more,
who used to feed you with her own hand.'
He went to the bower, called the Repose of
Virginia; and, as the birds flew around
him, exclaimed, 'Poor little birds ! you
will fly no more to meet her who cherished
you !' And observing Fidele running backwards and forwards in search of her, he
heaved a deep sigh, and cried, ' Ah ! you
will never find her again.' At length he
went and seated himself upon the rock
where he had conversed with her the preceding evening; and at the view of the
ocean, upon which he had seen the vessel
disappear which bore her away, he wept
bitterly.
" We constantly watched his step, apprehending some fatal consequence from the
violent agitation of his mind.
His mother and Madame de la Tour conjured him,
in the most tender manner, not to increase
their affliction by his despair. At length
Madame de la Tour soothed his mind by la.
vishing upon him such epithets as we e
best calculated to revive his hopes. She
called him her son, her dear son, whom she
destined for her daughter. She prevailed
with him to return to the house, and receive a little nourishment. He seated himself with us at the table, next to the place
which used to be occupied by the companion of his childhood; and, as ifshehad still
been present, he spoke to her, and offered
whatever he knew was most agreeable to
her taste; and then starting from this
dream of fancy, he began to weep. For
some days he employed himself in gathering together every thing which had belonged to Virginia: the last nose-gays she
had worn, the cocoa-shell in which she
used to drink ; and, after kissing a thcusand
times those relics of his friend, to him the
most precious treasures which the world
contained, he hid them in his bosom. The
spreading perfumes of the amber are not so
sweet as the objects which have belonged to
those we love. At length, perceiving that
his anguish increased that of his mother
and Madame de la Tour, and that the wants
of the family required continual labour, he
began, with the assistance of Domingo, to
re air the garden.
' Soon after, this young man, till now
indifferent as a Creole with respect to what
was passing in the world, desired I would
teach him to read and write, that hliemight
carry on a correspondence with Virginia.
He then wished to be instructed in geography, in order that he might form a just idea
of the country where she had disembarked;
and in history, that he might know the
manners of the society in which she was

2

PAUL AND VIRGINIA.

placed. The powerful sentiment of love, tunes of others ! My aunt was much astonwhich directed his present studies, had al- ished, when having, upon my arrival, in.
ready taught him the arts of agriculture, quired what accomplishments I possessed,
and the manner of laying out the most irre- I told her that I could neither read nor
gular grounds with advantage and beauty. write. She asked me what then I had
It must be admitted, that to the fond dreams learned since I came into the world; and
of this restless and ardent passion, mankind when I answered that I had been taught to
are indebted for a great number of arts and take care of the household affairs, and obey
sciences, while its disappointments have your will, she told me, that I had received
given birth to philosophy, which teaches us the education of a servant. The next day
to bear the evils of life with resignation. she placed me as a boarder in a great abbey
Thus, Nature having made lovethegeneral near Paris, where I have masters of all
link which binds all beings, has rendered it kinds, who teach me, among other things,
the first spring of society, the first incite- history, geography, grammar, mathematics,
ment to knowledge as well as pleasure.
and riding. But I have so little capacity,
" Paul found little satisfaction in the for all those sciences, that I make but small
study of geography, which, instead of de- progress with my masters.
'My aunt's kindness, however, does not
scribing the natural history of each
She gives me new
country, only gave a view of its political abate towards me.
boundaries. History, and especially modern dresses for each season; and she has placed
history, interested him little more. He two waiting-women with me, who are both
there saw only general and periodical evils, dressed like fine ladies. She has made me
of which he did not discern the cause ; take the title of countess ; but has obliged
wars for which there was no reason and no me to renounce the name of La Tour,
object; nations without principle, and which is as dear to me as it is to you, from
princes without humanity. He preferred all you have told me of the sufferings my
the reading of romances, which, being filled I father endured in order to marry you. She
with the particular feelings and interests of has replaced your name by that of your famen, represented situations similar to his mily, which is also dear to me, because it
own. No book gave him so much pleasure as was your name when a girl. Seeing myself
Telemachus, from the pictures which it in so splendid a situation, I implored he
draws of pastoral life, and of those passions to let me send you some assistance. Bu
which are natural to thehuman heart. He how shall I repeat her answer? Yet you
read aloud to his mother and Madame de la have desired me always to tell you the
me
Tour those parts which affected him most truth. She told then, that a little would
sensibly; when sometimes, touched by the be of no use to you, and that a great deal
most tender remembrance, his emotion would only encumber you in the simple life
chked his utterance, and his eyes were you led.
" ' I endeavoured, upon my arrival, to
bathed in tears. He fancied he had found
in Virginia the wisdom of Antiope, with send youtidings of myself by another hand;
the misfortunes and the tenderness of Eu- but finding no person here, in whom I
charis. With very different sensations he could place confidence, I applied night and
perused our fashionable novels, filled with day to reading and writing; and Heaven,
And who saw my motive for leafning, no doubt
licentious maxims and manners.
when he was informed that those romances assisted my endeavours; for I acquired
drew a just picture of European society, he both in a short time. I intrusted my first
trembled, not without reason, lest Virginia letters to some of the ladies here, who, I
should become corrupted, and should for- have reason to think, carried them to my
aunt. This time I have had recourse to a
get him.
" More than a year and a half had indeed boarder, who is my friend. I send you her
passed away, before Madame de laTour re- direction, by means of which I shall receive
ceived any tidings of her daughter. Dur- your answer. My aunt has forbid my hold.
ing that period she had only accidentally ing any correspondence whatever, which
heard that Virginia had arrived safely in might, she says, become an obstacle to the
France. At length a vessel, which stopped great views she has for my advantage. No
in its way to the Indies, conveyed to Ma- person is allowed to see me at the gratebut
dame de la Tour a packet, and a letter herself, and an old nobleman, one of her
written with her own hand. Although this friends, who, she says, is much pleased
amiable young woman had written in a with me. I am sure I am not at all so with
guarded manner, in order to avoid wound- him; nor should I, even if it were possible
ing the feelings of a mother, it was easy to for me to be pleased with any one at
discern that she was unhappy. Her letter present.
paints so naturally her situation and her
"' live the midst of affluence, and
in
character, that I have retained it almost have not a livre at my disposal. They say
I might make an improper use of money.
Word for word.
"' My dear and beloved mother, I have Even my clothes belong to my waiting,
already sent you several letters, written women, who quarrel about them before I
with my own hand; but, having received have left them off: In the bosom of riches,
so answer, I fear they have not reached you. I am poorer than when I lived with you;
I have better hopes for this, from the means for I have nothing to give. When I found
I have now taken of sending you tidings that the great accomplishments they taught
of myself, and of hearing from you. I have me would not procure me the power of do.
shed many tears since our separation ; I ing the smallest good, I had recourse to my
who never used toweep, but for the misfor- needle of which happilyyou had learnt me

'I

PAUL AND VIRGINIA.

27

the use. I send several pairs of stockings of rock where she had spoken to him for the
my own making foryou and my mamma last time, and that for her sake he would
Margaret, a cap for Domingo, and oneofmy henceforth give it the name of Fare.
red handkerchiefs for Mary. I also send well Rock.
with this packet some kernels, and seeds of
" She had put those seeds into a little
various kinds of fruits, which I gathered in purse, the tissue of which was extremely
the fields. There are much more beautiful simple; but which appeared above aliprice
flowers in themeadows of this country than to Paul, when he perceived a P and a V
in ours, but nobody cares for them. I am intertwined together, and knew that the
sure that you and my mamma Margaret beautiful hair which formed the cypher
will be better pleased with this bag of seeds, was the hair of Virginia.
than you were with the bag of piasters,
" The whole family listened with tears to
which was the cause our separation, and the letter of that amiable and virtuous
of
of my tears. It will give me great delight young woman. Her mother answered it in
if you should one day see apple trees grow- the name of the little society, and desired
ing at the side of the plantain, and elms her to remain or return as she thought
blending their foliage with our cocoa trees. proper ; assuring her, that happiness had
You will fancy yourself in Normandy, fled from their dwelling since her deparwhich you love so much.
ture, and that, as for herself, she was in"' You desired me to relate to you my consolable.
joys and my griefs. I have no joys far from r:" Paul also sent her a long letter, in
you.
As for my griefs, I endeavour to which he assured her that he would arsoothe them by reflecting that I am in a si- range the garden in a manner agreeable to
tuation in which you placed meby the will of her taste, and blend the plants of Europe
God. But my greatest affliction is,
that no with those of Africa. He sent her some
one here speaks to me of you, and that I fruit culled from the cocoa-trees of the
must speak of you to no one. My waiting- fountain, which were now arrived at matuwomen, or rather those of my aunt, for rity : telling her that he would not add any
they belong more to her than to me, told more of the other seeds of the island, that
me the other day, when I wished to turn the desire of seeing those productions again
the conversation upon the objects most dear might hasten herreturn. He conjured her
tome, ' Remember, madam, that you are a to comply without delay with the ardent
French woman, and must forget that coun- wishes of her family, and, above all, with
try of savages.' Ah i sooner will I forget his own, since he was unable to endure the
myself, than forget the spot on which I was pain of their separation.
born, and which you inhabit ! It is this
" With a careful hand Paul sowed the
country which is to me a land of savages; European seeds, particularly the violet and
for I live alone, having no one to whom I the scabious, the flowers of which seemed
can impart those feelings of tenderness for to bear some analogy to the character and
you which I shall bear with me to the situation of Virginia, by whom they had
grave.
been recommended : but whether they
I am, my dearest and beloved mother,
were injured by the voyage, or whether the
affectionate and dutiful daughter, soil of this part of Africa is unfavourable
'VIRGINIA DE LA TOUR.
to their growth, a very small number of
' I recommend to your goodness M
them blew, and none came to perfection.
I recommend toyour goodness
Mary
"Meanwhile that envy, which pursues
and Domingo, who took so much care of human happiness, spread reports over the
my infancy. Caress Fidele for me, who island which gave great uneasiness to Paul.
found me in the wood.'
The persons who had brought Virginia's
"Paul was astonished that Virginia had letter, asserted that she was upon the point
not said one word of him; she, who had not of being married, and named the noble.
forgotten even the house-dog. But Paul man of the court with whom she was going
was not aware that, however long may be a to be united. Some even declared that she
woman's letter, she always puts the senti- was already married, of which they were
ments most dear to her at the end.
witnesses. Paul at first despised this report,
"In a postscript, Virginia recommended brought by one of those trading ships,
particularly to Paul's care two kinds of which often spread erroneous intelligence
seed, those of the violet and scabious. She in their passage ; but some ill-natured pergave him some instructions upon the na- sons, by their insulting pity, led him to
ture of those plants, and the spots most give some degree of credit to this cruel inproper for their cultivation. ' The first,' telligence. Besides, he had seen in the nosaid she, 'produces a little flower of a deep vels which he had lately read, that perfidy
violet, which loves to hide itself beneath was treated as a subject of pleasantry; and
Jhebushes, but it is soon discovered by its knowing that those books were faithful
delightful odours.' She desired those seeds presentations of European manners, re.
he
might be sown along the borders of the feared that the heart of Virginia was corfountain, at the foot of her cocoa-tree. rupted, and had forgotten its former enThe scabious,' she added, ' produces a gagements. Thus his acquirements only
beautiful flower of a pale blue, and a black served to render him miserable; and what
ground spotted with white. You might increased his apprehension was, that sevefancy it was in mourning; and for this ral ships arrived from Europe, during the
reason it is called the widow's flower. It space of six months, and not one brought
delights in bleak spots beaten by the winds.'
y tidings of Virginia.
She begged this might be sown upon the
' This unfortunate yosng man, with a

'Your

a

28

PAUL AND VIRGINIA.

heart torn by the most cruel agitation,
came often to visit me, that I might confirm
or banish his inquietude, by my experience
of the world.
" I live, as I have already told you, a
eague and a half from hence, upon the
banks of a little river, which glides along
the Sloping Mountain; there I lead a solitary life, without either wife, children, or
slaves.
" After having enjoyed, and lost, the rare
felicity of living with a congei)ial mind, the
state of life which appears the least wretched
is that of solitude. It is remarkable that all
those nations, which have been rendered
unhappy by their political opinions, their
manners, or their forms of government,
have produced numerous classes of citizens
altogether devoted to solitude and celibacy,
such were the Egyptians in their decline,
,he Greeks of the lower empire; and such
in our days are the Indians, the Chinese,

feet high, crowned at their summits with
clustering leaves, and towering above the
wood like one forest piled upon another.
Lianas, of various foliage, intertwining
among the woods, form arcades of flowers
and verdant canopies; those trees for the
most part shed aromatic odours of a nature
so powerful, that the garments of a travel.
ler, who has passed through the forest, retainfor several hours the delicious fragrance. In the season when those trees
produce their lavish blossoms, they appear
as if covered with snow. One of the principal ornaments ofour woods is the calbassia, a tree not only distinguished for its beau.
tiful tint of verdure, but for other properties, which Madame de laTour has describ.
ed in the following sonnet, written at one
of her first visits to my hermitage.
S0

NET

THE CALBASSIA-TREE.
Sublime Calbassia, luxuriant tree
How soft the bloomthy bright
hued foliage throws,
"Thus I pass my days far from mankind While from thy pulpa healing
balsam flows,
wretch from pain c
reeg
whom I wished to serve, and by whom I
have been persecuted. After having tra- ly pensive footsteps ever turntothee !
velled over many countries of Europe, and iince oft, while musing on my lasting woes,
I
white bells repose
some parts of America and Africa, I at !Beneath thy flow'ry
tetgttitch this thin
in
. Symbol of friendship dost thouseemtome.;
length pitched my tentFr
thus has friendship cast her soothing shade
pled island, allured by its mild temperature O'er my unshelterd bosom'skeendistress;
and its solitude. A cottage which I built in Tihus sought to heal the wounds which love has
n ma e, b
the woods, at the foot of a tree, a little field
which I cultivated with my own hands, ari- Ah !not vain lends balmyaid:
in
she
her
ver which glides before my door, suffice for The agonies she cannot cure are less !
the modern Greeks, the Italians, and most
part of the eastern and southern nations of

TO

Europe.

m

my wants and for my pleasures. I blend with
those enjoymentithat of some chosen books,
" Towards the end of summer various
which teach me to become better. They kinds of foreign birds hasten, impelled by
make that world which I have abandoned, an inexplicable instinct, from unknown re.
still contribute to my satisfaction. They gions, and across immense oceans, to ga.
place before me pictures those passions ther the profuse grains of this island; and
of
which render its inhabitants so miserable ; the brilliancy of their expanded plumage
and the comparison which I make between forms a contrast to the trees embrowned by
their destiny and my own, leads me to feel the sun. Such, among others, are various
a sort of negative happiness. Like a man, kinds ofparoquets, the blue pigeon, called
whom shipwreck has thrown upn a rock, here the pigeon of Holland, and the wan
upon
I contemplate, from my solitude, the storms dering and majestic white bird of the Tro.
which roll over the rest of the world; and pic,
which Madame de laTour thus apo.
my repose seems more profound from the I trophized :
distant sounds of the tempest.
" I suffer myself to be led calmly down
S0 N NE T
the stream of time to the ocean of futurity,
BRD OF THE TROPIC
which has no boundaries ; while, in the
TOTHE
WHITE
BtRDOPTHE TOOPtO.

EWHITE

contemplation of the present harmony of
nature, I raise my soul towards its supreme

Author, and hope for a more happy destiny
in

another state of existence.

"Although yoi do not descry my hermitage, which is situated in the midst of a fo-

Bird of the Tropic I thou, who lov'ststray,
to
Where thy long pinions sweep thesultry line,
boundswhich torrid beams confine
Or mark'stthe
ray
the
shuns
By thy averted course, that

ty, at least to one who, like me, loves rather
the seclusion of a home-scene, than great
and exteinsive prospects. "lheriver which

Ofton yoncliff
thy lded
plumesrecline,
And drop those
snowy feathers Indians twine
To erown the warrior's
mrow honoursgy.
with
Dntse no soft instinct in thy soul prevail ?
oes
No sweet affection to thy bosomcling,
And bid thee oft thy absent nest bewail?
Yet thou again that dear spot canst sprinl
to
ButI my long-lost home no more shall .
hal

glides before my door passes in a straight
line across the woods, and appears like a
long canal shaded by trees of all kinds,
There are black date plum-trees, what we
here call the narrow-leaved dodonea, olivewood, gum-trees, and the cinnamon-tree;
while in some parts the cabbage-trees raise
their naked columns more than a hundred

"The domestic inhabitants ofourforests,
monkeys, sport upon the dark branches of
the trees, from which they are distinguish
ed by their grey and greenish skin, and
their black visages. Some hang suspended
by the tail, and balance themselves in air;
others leap from branch to branch, bearing
their young in their arms. Themurderous

rest, among that immense variety of objects
ih lvatd otp s
hs
grounds are disposed with particular beau-

PAUL AND VIRGINIA.

29

gun has never affrighted tnose peaceful departure of Virginia. Sometimes, con.
children of Nature. You sometimes hear templating it as a monument of her benethe warbling of unknown birds from the , volence, he kissed its trunk, and apostro.
southern countries repeated at a distance by phized it in terms of themost passionate rethe echoes of the forest. The river, which igret; and, indeed, I have myself gazed upruns in foaming cataracts over a bed of on it with more emotion and more vene.
rocks, reflects here and there, upon its lim- ration, than upon the triumphal arches at
pid waters, venerable masses of woody Rome.
shade, together with the sport of its happy
" At the foot of this pappaw Iwas always
inhabitants. About a thousand pacesfrumn sure to meet with Paul when he came into
thence the river precipitates itself over se- our neighbourhood.
One day, when I
veral piles of rocks, and forms, in its fall, a found him absorbed in melancholy, we had
sheet of
water, smooth as crystal, but which a conversation, which I will relate to you,
breaks at bottom into frothy surges.
In- if I do not weary you by my long digres.
numerable confused sounds issue from those sions ; perhaps pardonable to my age and
tumultuous waters, which, scattered by the my last friendships.
winds of the forest, sometimes sink, somePaul said to me, 'I am very unhappy.
times swell, and send forth a hollow tone Mademoiselle de laTour has now been gone
like the deep bells of a cathedral. The air, two years and two months; and we have
for ever renewed by the circulation of the heard no tidings of her for eight months
waters, fans the banks of that .river with and two weeks. She is rich, and I am
freshness, and leaves a degree of verdure, poor. She has forgotten me. I have a
notwithstanding the summer heats, rarely great mind to follow her. I will go to
found in this island, even upon the summits France; I will serve the king; make a forof the mountains,
tune ; and then Mademoiselle de la Tour's
" At some distance is a rock placed far aunt will bestow her niece upon me When
enough from the cascade to prevent the ear I shall have become a great lord.'
from being deafened by thelnoise of its wa"' But my dear friend,' I answered,
ters, sufficiently near for the enjoyment 'have you not told me that you are not of
and
of their view, their coolness, and their mur- noble birth ?'
murs. Thither, amidst the heats of sum" 'My mother has told meso,' said Paul.
mer, Madame de la Tour, Margaret, Virgi- ' As for anyself, I know not what noble
nia, Paul and myself, sometimes repaired, birth means.'
and dined beneath the shadow of the rock.
" ' Obscure birth,' I replied, 'in France,
Virginia, who always directed her most or- shuts out all access to great employments ;
dinary actions to the good of others, never nor can you even be received among any
ate any fruit without planting the seed or distinguished body of men.'
kernel in the ground. 'From this,' said
" 'How unfortunate I am?' resumed
she, ' trees will come, which will give their Paul: 'every thing repulses me. I am
fruit to some traveller, or at least to some condemned to waste my wretched life in labird,'
One day,having eaten of the pap- hour, far from Virginia.' And be heaved a
paw-fruit, at the foot of that rock she deep sigh.
planted the seeds. Soon after several pap" ' Since her relation,' he added, 'will
paws sprang up, amongst which was one only give her in marriage to some one with
that yielded fruit. This tree had risen but a great name;-by the aid of study we bea little from the ground at the time of Vir- come wise and celebrated. I will fly then
ginia's departure; but, its growth being ra- to study; I will acquire sciences; I will
pid, in the space of two years it had gained serve my country usefully to my attain>twenty feet of height, and the upper part ments; I shall be independent; I shall be
of its stem was encircled with several layers come renowned; and my glory will belong
of ripe fruit. Paul, having wandered to only to myself.'
that spot, was delighted to see that this lof"'My son ! talents are still more rare
ty tree had arisen from the small seed than birth or riches, and are, undoubtedly,
planted by his beloved friend; but that an inestimable good, of which nothing can
emotion instantly gave place to a deep deprive us, and which every where concili.
melancholy, at this evidence ofherlongab- ate public esteem. But they cost dear;
sence. The objects which we see habitual- they are generally allied to exquisite sensily, do not remind us of the rapidity of life; bility, which renders their possessor miserthey decline insensibly with ourselves; but able. But you tell me that you would serve
those which we behold again, after having mankind. He who, from the soilwhich he
for some years lost sight of them, impress cultivates, draws forth one additional sheaf
us powerfully with the idea of that swift- of corn, serves mankind more than he who
ness with which the tide of our days flows presents them with a book.'
4e. Paul was no less overwhelmed and af
" 'Oh !she then,' exclaimed Paul, 'who
fected at the sight of this great pappaw. planted this pappaw-tree, made a present to
tree loaded with fruit, than is the traveller, the inhabitants of the forest more dear and
when, after a long absence from his own more useful than if she had given them a
sountry, he finds not his contemporaries, library.' And, seizing the tree in his arms,
but their children, whom he left at the he kissed it with transport.
breast, and whom he sees are become fa" ' Ah ! I desire glory only,' he resum.
thers of families. Paul sometimes thought ed, ' to confer it upon Virginia, and render
of hewing down the tree, which recalled her dear to the whole universe. But you,
too sensibly the distracted image of that who know so much, tell me if we shall ever
leangth of time which had elapsed since the be married? I wish I was at least learned
][

so0

PAUL AND VIRGINIA.

enough to look into futurity. Virginia
must come back. What need has she of a
rich relation ? She was so happy in those
huts, so beautiful, and so well dressed, with
a red handkerchief or flowers round her
head ! Return, Virginia ! Leave your palaces, your splendour ! Return to those rocks,
to the shade of our woods and our cocoa.
trees ! Alas! you are, perhaps, unhappy
And he began to weep. ' My father ! conceal
nothing from me. If you cannot tell me
whether I shall marry Virginia or no, tell
me, at least, if she still loves me amidst
those great lords who speak to the king,
and go to see her.'
" Oh ! my dear friend,' I answered, '1
am sure that she loves you for several reasons ; but, above all, because she is virtuous.' At those words he threw himself
upon my neck, in a transport of joy.
"'But what,' said he, 'do you understand by virtue ?'
" ' My son ! to you, who support your
family by your labour, it need not be defined. Virtue is an effort which we make for
the good of others, and with the intention
ofpleasing God.'
' Oh ! how virtuous then,' cried he, 'is
'
Virginia ! Virtue made her seek for riches,
that she might practise benevolence. Virtue led her to forsake this island, and vir.
tue will bring her back.' The idea of her
near return fired his imagination, and his
inquietudes suddenly vanished. Virginia,
he was persuaded, had not written, because
she would soon arrive. It took so little
time to come from Europe with a fair
wind! Then he enumerated the vessels
which had made a passage of four thousand
five hundred leagues in less than three
months; and perhaps the vessel in which
Virginia had embarked might notbe longer
than two. Ship-builders were now so ingenious, and sailors so expert ! He then told
me of the arrangements he would make for
her reception, of the new habitation he
would build for her, of the pleasures and
surprises which each day should bring along
with it when she was his wife. His wife !
That hope was ecstacy, ' At least my dear
father,' said he, 'you shall then do nothing more than you please. Virginia being rich, we shall have a number of negroes, who will labour for you. You shall
always live with us, and have no other care
than to amuse and rejoice
yourself.' And,
his heart throbbing with delight, he flew to
communicate those exquisite sensations to
his family.
"In a short time, however, the most
cruel apprehensions succeeded those enchanting hopes. Violent passions ever
throw the soul into opposite extremes.
Paul returned to my dwelling absorbed in
melancholy, and said to me, ' I hear nothing from Virginia. Had she left Europe,
she would have informed me of her departure. Ah I the reports which I have heard
oncerning her are but too well founded.
Her aunt has married her to some great
lord. She, like others, has been undoneby
the love of riches. In those books, which
paint women so well, virtue is but a subject
of romance. Had Virginia been virtuous,

!'

she would not have forsaken her mother
and me, and while I pass life in thinking
of her, forgotten me. While I am wretch.
ed, sheis happy. Ah ! that thought distracts me; labour becomes painful, and society irksome. Would to Heaven that war
were declared in India, I would go there
and die !'
" 'My son,' I answered, 'that courage,
which prompts us to court death, is but the
courage of a moment, and is often excited
by the vain hopes of posthumous fame.
There is a species of courage more necessary, and more rare, which makes us support, without witness, and without applause, the various vexations of life; and
that is, patience. Leaning not upon the
opinions of others, but upon the will of God,
patience is the courage of virtue.'
" ' Ah !' cried he, ' I am then without
virtue ! Every thing overwhelms and distracts me.'
" ' Equal, constant, and invariable vir.
tue,' I replied, ' belongs not to man. In
the midst of so many passions, by which we
are agitated, our reason is disordered and
obscured: but there is an ever-burning
lamp, at which we can rekindle its flame;
and that is, literature.
" 'Literature, my dear son, is the gift of
Heaven; a ray of that wisdom which governs the universe; and which man, inspired by celestial intelligence, has drawn
down to earth. Like the sun, it enlightens,
it rejoices, it warms with a divine flame,
and seems, in some sort, like the element
of fire, to bend all nature to our use. By
the aid of literature, we bring around us all
things, all places, men, and times. By its
aid we calm the passions, suppress vice, and
excite virtue. Literature is the daughter
of Heaven, who has descended upon earth
to soften and to charm all human evils.
" ' Have recourse to your books then, my
son. The sages who have written before
our days are travellers who have preceded
us in the paths of misfortune; who stretch
out a friendly hand towards us, and invite
us to join their society, when every thing
else
abandons us. A good book is a good
friend.'
" ' Ah !' cried Paul, 'I stood in no need
of books when Virginia was here, and she
had studied as little as me; but when she
looked at me, and called me her friend,
it was impossible for me to be unhappy.'
" ' Undoubtedly,' said I, 'there is no
friend so agreeable as a mistress by whom
we are beloved. There is in the gay graces
of woman a charm that dispels the dark
phantoms of reflection. Upon her face sits
soft attraction, and tender confidence.
What joy is not heightened in which she
shares ? What brow is not unbent by her
smiles ? What anger can resist her tears?
Virginia will return with more philosophy
than you, and will be surprised not to find
the garden finished; she who thought of
its embellishments amidst the persecutions
of her aunt, and far from her mother and
from you.'
"The idea of Virginia's speedy return
re-animated her lover's courage, and he resumed his pastoral occupations; happy

PAUL AND VIRGINIA.

31

amidst his toils, in the reflection that they versing thewoods of the Sloping Mountain,
would find a termination so dear to the and were already on the road which leads
from the Shaddock Grove to the Port, I
wishes of his heart.
"The 24th of December, 1774, at break heard some one walkingbehind us. When
6f day, Paul, when he arose, perceived a the person, who was a negro, and who adwhite flag hoisted upon the Mountain of vanced with hasty steps, had reached us, I
Discovery, which was the signal of a vessel inquired from whence he came, and whidescried at sea. He flew to the town, inor- ther he was going with such expedition.
der to learn if this vessel brought any tid- He answered, ' I came from that part of
ings of Virginia, and waited till the return the island called Golden Dust; and am
of the pilot, who had gone, as usual to visit sent to the Port, to inform the governor
the ship. The pilot brought the governor that a ship from France had anchored upon
information that the vessel was the Saint- the island of Amber; and fires guns of
Geran, of seven hundred tons, commanded distress, for the sea is very stormy.' Havby a captain of the name of Aubin ; that ing said this, the man left us, and pursued
the ship was now four leagues out at his journey.
"' Let us go,' said I to Paul, 'towards
sea, and would anchor at Port Louis the
following afternoon, if the wind was fa- that part of the island, and meet Virginia.
vourable : at present there was a calm. It is only three leagues from hence.' AcThe pilot then remitted to the governor a cordingly we bent our course thither. The
The moon had
number of letters from France, amongst heat was suffocating.
which was one addressed to Madame de la risen, and was encompassed by three large
Tour, in the hand-writing of Virginia. black circles. A dismal darkness shrouded
Paul seized upon the letter, kissed it with the sky; but the frequent flakes of light.
transport, placed it in his bosom, and flew ning discovered long chains of thick clouds,
to the plantation. No sooner did he per- gloomy, low-hung, and heaped together
ceive from a distance the family, who were over the middle of the island, after having
waiting his return upon the Farewell Rock, rolled with great rapidity from the ocean,
than he waved the letter in the air, with- although we felt not a breath of wind upon
out having the power to speak ; and in- the land. As we walked along, we thought
stantly the whole family crowded round we heard peals of thunder; but after listMadame de la Tour to hear it read. Virgi- ening more attentively, we found they were
nia informed her mother that she had suf- the sounds of distant cannon, repeated by
fered much ill-treatment from her aunt, the echoes. Those sounds, joined to the
who, after having in vain urged her to mar- tempestuous aspect of the heavens, made
ry against her inclination, had disinherited me shudder. I had little doubt that they
her ; and at length sent her back at such a were signals of distress from a ship in danseason of the year, that she must probably ger. In half an hour the firing ceased,
reach the Mauritius at the very period of and I felt the silence more appalling, than
the hurricanes. In vain, she added, she the dismal sounds which had preceded.
" We hastened on without uttering a
had endeavoured to soften her aunt, by representing what she owed to her mother, word, or daring to communicate our appreand to the habits of her early years; she hensions. At midnight we arrived on the
had been treated as a romantic girl, whose sea-shore at that part of the island. The
head was turned by novels. At present, billows broke against the beach with a horshe said, she could think of nothing but rible noise, covering the rocks and the
the transport of again seeing and embracing strand with their foam, of a dazzling
her beloved family; and that she would whiteness, and blended with sparks of fire.
have satisfied this dearest wish of her heart By their phosphoric gleams we distinguishthat very day, if the captain would have ed, notwithstanding the darkness, the capermitted her to embark in the pilot's boat; noes of the fishermen, which they had
but that he had opposed her going, on ac- drawn far upon the sand.
" Near the shore, at the entrance of a
count of the distance from the shore, and
of a swell in the ocean, notwithstanding it wood, we saw a fire, round which several
of the inhabitants were assembled. Thiwas a calm.
"Scarcely was the letter finished, when ther we repaired, in order to repose ourthe whole family, transported with joy, re- selves till morning. One of the circle re.
peated, 'Virginia is arrived !' and mis- lated, that in the afternoon he had seen a
tresses and servants embxaced each other. vessel driven towards the island by the
Madame de la Tour said to Paul, ' My son, currents; that the night had hid it from
go and inform our neighbour of Virginia's his view; and that two hours after sun-set
Domingo immediately lighted a he had heard the firing of guns in distress,
arrival.'
torch, and he and Paul bent their way to- but that the sea was so tempestuous no boat
wards my plantation.
could venture out: that a short time after,
"It was about ten at night, and I was he thought he perceived the glimmering of
going to extinguish my lamp, when I per- the watch-lights on board thevessel, which,
ceived, through the palisades of my hut, a he feared, by its having approached so
light in the woods. I arose, and had just near the coast, had steered between the
dressed myself, when Paul, half wild, and main land and the little Island of Amber,
panting for breath, sprung on my neck, mistaking it for the Point of Endeavour,
crying, ' Come along, come along. Virgi- near which the vessels pass in order to gain
nia is arrived I Let us go to the Port : the Port Louis. If this was the case, which,
however, he could not affirm, the ship, he
vessel will anchor at break of day.'
"We instantly set off. As we were tra- apprehended, was in great danger. Another
M2

32

PAUL AND VIRGINIA.

islander then informed us, that he had frequently crossed the channel which separates the Isle of Amber from the coast, and
which he had sounded; that the anchorage was good, and that the ship would
there be in as great security as if it were
in harbour. A third islander declared it
was impossible for the ship to enter that
channel, which was scarcely navigable for
a boat. He asserted, that he had seen the
vessel at anchor beyvond the Isle of Amber,
so that if the wind arose in the morning, it
could either put to sea, or gain the harbour. Different opinions were stated upon
this subject, which, while those indolent
Creoles calmly discussed, Paul and I observed a profound silence. We remained
on this spot till break of day, when the
weather was too hazy to permit of our distinguishing any object at sea, which was
covered with fog. All we could descry was
a dark cloud, which they told us was the
Isle of Amber, at the distance of a quarter
of a league from the coast. We could only
discern on this gloomy day the point of the
beach where we stood, and the peaks of
some mountains in the interior of the
island, rising occasionally from amidst the
clouds which hung around them.
" At seven in the morning we heard the
beat of drums in the woods; and soon after
the governor, Monsieur de la Bourdonnais,
arrived on horseback, followed by a detachment of soldiers armed with muskets,
and a great number of islanders and
blacks. He ranged his soldiers upon the
beach, and ordered them to make a general
discharge, which was no sooner done, than
we perceived a glimmering light upon the
water, which was instantly succeeded by
the sound of a gun. We judged that the
ship was at no great distance, and run towards that part where we had seen the
light. We now discerned, through the
fog, the hulk and tackling of a large vessel ;
and, notwithstanding the noise of the
waves, we were near enough to hear the
whistle of the boatswain at the helm, and
the shouts of the mariners. As soon as
the Saint-Geran perceived that we were
near enough to give her succour, she continued to fire guns regularly at the interval
of three minutes. Monsieur de la Bourdonnais caused great fires to be lighted at
certain distances upon the strand, and sent
to all the inhabitants of that neighbourhood, in search of provisions, planks, cables,
and empty barrels. A crowd of people
soon arrived, accompanied by their negroes,
loaded with provisions and rigging. One
of the most aged of the planters approaching the governor, said to him, ' We have
heard all night hoarse noises in the mountamin,
and in the forests : the leaves of the
trees are shaken, although there is no
wind; the sea-birds seek refuge upon the
land: it is certain that all those signs announce a hurricane.'-' Well, my friends,'
answered the governor, 'we are prepared
or it; and no doubt the vessel is also.'
"Every thing, indeed, presaged the near
approach of the hurricane. The centre of
the clouds in the zenith was of a dismal
black, while their skirto were fringed with

a copper hue. The air resounded with the
cries of the frigate bird, the cur-water, and
a multitude of other sea-birds, who, notwithstanding the obscurity of the atmosphere, hastened from all points of the horizon to seek for shelter in the island.
"Towards nine in the morning we heard
on the side of the ocean the most terrific
noise, as if torrents of water, mingled with
thunder, were rolling down the steeps of
mountains. A general cry was heard of
'There is the hurricane!' and in one mo.
ment a frightful whirlwind scattered the
fog which had covered the Isle of Amber
and its channel. The Saint-Geran then
presented itself to our view: her gallery
was crowded with people, her yards and
main-top-mast liid upon the deck, her flag
shivered, with four cables at her head, and
one by which she was held at the stern.
She had anchored between the Isle of Am.
ber and the main land, within that chain
of breakers which encircles the island, and
which bar she had passed over in a place
where no vessel had ever gone before. She
presented her head to the waves which
rolled from the open sea : and as each billow rushed into the straits, the ship heaved,
so that her keel was in air, and at the same
moment her stern, plunging into the water,
disappeared altogether, as if it were swallowed up by the surges. In this position,
driven by the winds and waves towards the
shore, it was equally impossible for her to
return by the passage through which she
had made her way; or, by cutting her cables, to throw herself upon the beach, from
which she was separated by sand-banks,
mingled with breakers. Every billow which
broke upon the coast, advanced roaring to
the bottom of the bay, and threw planks to
the distance of fifty feet upon the land;
then, rushing back, laid bare its sandy bed,
from which it rolled immense stones, with
a hoarse dismal noise. The sea, swelled by
the violence of the wind, rose higher every
moment: and the channel between this
island and the Isle of Amber was but one
vast sheet of white foam, with yawning
pits of black deep billows. The foam boiling in the gulf was more than six feet high;
and the winds, which swept its surface,
bore it over the steep coast, more than half
a league upon the land. Those innumerable white flakes, driven horizontally as far
as the foot of the mountain, appeared like
snow issuing from the ocean, which was
now confounded with the sky. Thick
clouds, of a horrible form, swept along the
zenith with the swiftness of birds, while
others appeared motionless as rocks. No
spot of azure could be discerned in the firmament; only a pale yellow gleam displayed the objects of earth, sea, and skies.
"From the violent efforts of the ship,
what we dreaded happened. The cables at
the head of the vessel were torn away; it
was then held by one anchor only, and was
instantly dashed upon the rocks, at the
distance of half a cable's length from the
shore. A general cry of horror issued from
the spectators: Paul rushed towards the
sea, when seizing him by the arm, I exclaimed, Would you perish ? '-' Let me

PAUL AND VIRGINIA.

3

go to save her,' cried he, 'or die !' Seeing into the hands of a surgeon, whie we
that despair deprived him of reason, Do- sought along the beach for the corpse of
mingo and I,in order to preserve him, fas- Virginia. But the wind having suddenly
tened a long cord round his waist, and changed, which frequently happens during
seized hold of each end. Paul then preci- hurricanes, our search was vain; and we
pitated himself towards theship, now swim- lamented that we could not even pay this
ming, and now walking upon the breakers. unfortunate young woman the last sad so.
Sometimes he had the hope of reaching the pulchral duties.
vessel, which the sea, in its irregular move" We retired from the spot overwhelmed
ments, had left almost dry, so that you with dismay, and our minds wholly occucould have made its circuit on foot; but pied by one cruel loss, although numbers
suddenly the waves, advancing with new had perished in the wreck.
fury, shrouded it beneath mountains ofwa" In the mean time, Paul, who began to
ter, which then lifted it upright upon its recover his senses, was taken to a house in
keel. The billows at the same moment the neighbourhood, till he was able to be
threw the unfortunate Paul far upon the removed to his own habitation. Thither I
beach, his legs bathed in blood, his bosom bent my way with Domingo, and underwounded, and himself half dead. The mo- took the sad task of preparing Virginia's
ment he had recovered his senses, he arose, mother and her friend for the melancholy
and returned with new ardour towards the event which had happened.
When we
vessel, the parts of which now yawned asun. reached the entranre of the valley of the rider from the violent strokes of the billows. ver of Fan-Palms, some negroes informed
The crew then, despairing of their safety, us that the seahad thrown many pieces of
threw themselves in crowds into the sea, the wreck into the opposite bay. We desupon yards, planks, hen-coops, tables, and cended towards it ; and one of the first obbarrels. At this moment we beheld an ob- jects which struck my sight upon the beach
ject fitted to excite eternal sympathy; a was the corpse of Virginia. The body was
young lady, in the gallery of the stern of half-covered with sand, and in the attitude
the Saint-Geran, stretching out her arms in which we had seen her perish. Herfeatowards him who made so many efforts to tures were not changed; her eyes were
join her. It was Virginia ! She had dis- closed, her countenance was still serene;
covered her lover by his intrepidity. The but the pale violets of death were blended
sight of this amiable young woman, expos- on her cheek with the blush of virgin mo
ed to such horrible danger, filled us with desty. One ofher hands was placed upon
unutterable despair. As for Virginia, with her clothes; and the other, which sheheld
a firm and dignified mien, she waved her on her heart, was fast closed, and so stifhand, as if bidding us an eternal farewell. fened, that it was with difficulty I took
All the sailors had flung themselves into from its grasp a small box. How great
the sea, except one, who still remained up- was my emotion, when I saw it contained
on the deck, and who was naked, and the picture of Paul, which she had promisstrong as Hercules. This man approached ed him never to part with while she lived !
Virginia with respect, and kneeling at her At the sight of this last mark of the fidelity
feet, attempted to force her to throw off
her and tenderness of the unfortunate girl, I
clothes ; but she repulsed him with modes- wept bitterly. As for Domingo, he beat
ty, and turned away her head. Then was his breast, and pierced the air with his
heard redoubled cries from the spectators, cries. We carried the body of Virginia to
Save her ! Save her ! Do not leave her !' a fisher's hut, and gave it in charge to
But at that moment a mountain billow, of some poor Malabar women, who carefully
enormous magnitude, ingulfed itself be- washed away the sand.
tween the Isle of Amber and the coast, and
" While they were employed in this me.
menaced the shattered vessel, towards lancholy office, we ascended with trembling
which it rolled bellowing, with its black steps to the plantation. We found Masides and foaming head. At this terrible dame de laTour and Margaret at prayer,
sight the sailor flung himself into the sea; while waiting for tidings from the ship. As
and Virginia, seeing death inevitable, plac- soon Madame de la Tour saw me comas
ed one hand upon her clothes, the other on ing, she eagerly cried, 'Where is my child?
her heart, and lifting up her lovely eyes, my dear child ?' My silence and my tears
seemed an angel prepared to take her flight apprised her of her misfortune. She was
to heaven,
seized with convulsive stiflings, with ago' Oh, day of horror ! Alas ! every thing nizing pains, and her voice was only heard
was swallowed up by the relentless billows. in groans. Margaret cried, ' Where is my
The surge threw some of the spectators far son ? I do not see my son !' and fainted.
upon the beach, whom an impulse of hu- We ran to her assistance. In a short time
inanity prompted to advance towards Vir- she recovered; and being assured that her
gmia, and also the sailor who had endea- son was safe, and under the care of the go_
voured to save her life. This man, who vernor, she only thought of succouring her
had escaped from almost certain death, friend, who had long successive faintings.
kneeling on the sand, exclaimed, ' Oh, my Madame de la Tour passed the night in
God ! thou hast saved my life, but I would sufferings so exquisite, that I became con.
have given it willingly for that poor young vinced there was no sorrow like a mother's
woman 1'
sorrow. When she recovered her senses,
Domingo and myself drew Paul sense- she cast her languid and steadfast looks on
less to the shore, the blood flowing from heaven. In vain her friend and myself
his mouth and ears. The governor put him pressed her hands in ours : in
atai we

36

PAUL AND VIRGINIA.

called upon her by the most tender names; object affect the natives of different coun.
she appeared wholly insensible; and her tries, and thus was the ritual of various re.
oppressed bosom heaved deep and hollow ligions breathed over the tomb of unfortumoans.
nate virtue.
" In the morning Paul was brought
" Shewas interred near the church of the
home in a palanquin. He was now restor- Shaddock Grove, upon the western side,
ed to reason, but unable to utter a word. at the foot of a copse of bamboos, where, in
His interview with his mother and Ma- coming from mass with her mother and
dame de la Tour, which I had dreaded, Margaret, she loved to repose herself, seat.
produced a better effect than all my cares. ed by him whom she called her brother.
A ray of consolation gleamed upon the
" On his return from the funeral solemcountenances of those unfortunate mothers. nity, Monsieur de la Bourdonnais came
They flew meet him, clasped himin their hither, followed by part of his numerous
to
arms, and bathed him with tears, which train. He offered Madame de la Tour and
excess of anguish had till now forbidden her friend all the assistance which it was in
to flow.Paul mixed his tears with
theirs; his power to bestow, After expressing his
and nature, having thus found relief, a long indignation at the conduct of her unnatustupor succeeded the convulsive pangs they ral aunt he advanced to Paul, and said
had suffered, and gave them a lethargic every thing which he thought most likely
repose like that of death,
to soothe and console him. ' Heaven is my
'Monsieur de la Bourdonnais sent to witness,' said he, 'that I wished to ensure
apprise me secretly that the corpseofVirgi- your happiness, and that of your family.
nia
had been borne to the town by his order, My dear friend, you must go to France : I
from whence it was to be transferred to the will obtain a commission for you, and durchurch of the Shaddock Grove. I hasten- ing your absence will take the same care of
ed to Port Louis, and found a multitude as- your mother as if she were my own. He
sembled from all parts, in order to be pre- then offered him his hand : but Paul drew
sent at the funeral solemnity, as if the away, and turned his head, unable to bear
whole island had lost its fairest ornament. his sight.
The vessels in the harbour had their yards
" I remained at the plantation of my un.
crossed, their flags hoisted, and fired guns fortunate friends, that I might render to
at intervals. The grenadiers led the fune- them and Paul those offices of friendship
ral procession, with their muskets reversed, which soften, though they cannot cure, catheir drums muffled, and sending forth
slow lamity. At the end of three weeks Paul
dismal sounds. Eight young ladies, of the was able to walk, yet his mind seemed to
most considerable families of the island, droop in proportion as his frame gathered
dressed in white, and bearing palms in their strength.
He was insensible to every
hands, supported the pall of their amiable thing : his look was vacant : and when
companion, which was strewed with flow. spoken to, he made no reply. Madame de
ers. They were followed by a band ofchil- la Tour, who was dying, said to him often,
dren, chaunting hymns, and by the gover- ' My son, while I look at you I think I see
nor, his field
officers, all the principal in. Virginia. At the name of Virginia he
habitants of the island, and an immense shuddered, and hastened from her, notcrowd of people.
withstanding the entreaties of his mother,
" This funeral solemnity had been order- who called him back to her friend. He
ed by the administration of the country, used to wander into the garden, and seat
who were desirous of rendering honours to himself at the foot of Virginia's cocoa-tree,
the virtue of Virginia. But when the pro- with his eyes fixed upon the fountain. The
cession arrived at the foot of this moun.- surgeon to the governor, who had shown
tain, the sight of those cottages, of which the most humane attention to Paul and the
at
she had so long been the ornament and whole family, told us that, in order to cure
happiness, and which her loss now filled that deep melancholy which had taken poswith despair, the funeral pomp was inter- session of his mind, we must allow him to
rupted, the hymns and anthems ceased, do whatever he pleased, without contradicand the plain resounded with sighs and la.- tion, as the only means of conquering his
mentations. Companies of young girls ran inflexible silence.
from the neighbouring plantations to touch
" I resolved to follow this advice. The
the coffin of Virginia with their scarfs, first use which Paul made of his returning
chaplets, and crowns of flowers, invoking strength, was to absent himself from the
her as a saint. Mothers asked of heaven a plantation. Being determined not to lose
child like Virginia; lovers, a heart as faith, sight of him, I set out immediately, and
ful; the poor, as tender a friend; and the desired Domingo to take some provisions
slaves, as kind a mistress,
and accompany us. Paul's strength and
" When the procession had reached the spirits seemed renewed as he descended the
place of interment, the negresses of Mada.- mountain. He took the road of the Shadgascar, and the caffres of Mosambic, plac- dock Grove; and, when he was near the
ed baskets of fruit around the corpse, and church, in the Alley ofBamboos, he walk.
hung pieces of stuff upon the neighbouring ed directly to the spot where he saw some
trees, according to the custom of their coun. new-laid earth, and there kneeling down,
try. The Indians of Bengal, and of the and raising up his eyes to heaven, he ofcoast of Malabar, brought cages filled with fered up a long prayer, which appeared to
birds, which they set at liberty upon her me a symptom of returning reason; since
cotffh. Thus did the loss of this amiable this mark of confidence in the Supreme

PAUL AND VIRGINIA.

35

Being showed that his mind began to re- this view I conducted him to the inhabited
sume its natural functions. Domingo and heights of Williams, which he had never
I followed his example, fell upon our visited, and where agriculture and comknees, and mingled our prayers with his. merce ever occasioned much bustle and
When he arose, he bent his way, paying variety. A crowd of carpenters were emlittle attention to us, towards the northern ployed in hewing down the trees, while
part of the island. As we knew that he was others were sawing planks. Carriages were
not only ignorant of the spot where the body passing and repassing on the roads. NuofVirginiawas laid, but even whether it had merous herds of oxen and troops of horses
been snatched from the waves, I asked him were feeding on those ample meadows, over
why he had offered up his prayers at the which a number of habitations were scatbamboos. He answered, ' We tered. On many spots the elevation of the
foot of those
have been there so often!' He continued soil was favourable to the culture of Euhis course until we reached the borders of ropean trees: ripe corn waved its yellow
the forest, when night came on. I pre- sheaves upon the plains; strawberry plants
vailed with him to take some nourishment ; flourished in the openings of the woods, and
and we slept upon the grass, at the foot of hedges of rose-bushes along the roads. The
a tree. The next day I thought he seemed freshness of the air, by giving a tension to
disposed to trace back his steps ; for, after the nerves, was favourable to the Eurohaving gazed a considerable time upon the peans. From those heights, situated near
church of the Shaddock Grove, with its the middle of the island, and surrounded
avenues of bamboos stretching along the by extensive forests, you could neither displain, he made a motion as if he would re- cern Port Louis, the church of the Shadturn; but, suddenly plunging into the for- dock Grove, nor any other object which
est, he directed his course to the north. I could recall to Paul the remembrance of
judged what was his design, from which I Virginia. Even the mountains, which ap.
endeavoured to dissuade him in vain. At pearof various shapes on the side of Port
noon we arrived at that part of the island Louis, present nothing to the eye from
but
called the Gold-Dust. He rushed to the those plains a long promontory, stretchsea-shore, opposite to the spot where the ing itself in a straight and perpendicular
Saint-Geran perished. At the sight of the line, from whence arise lofty pyramids of
Isle of Amber, and its channel, then as rocks, on the summits of which the clouds
smooth as a mirror, he cried, ' Virginia ! repose.
" To those scenes I conducted Paul, and
Oh, my dear Virginia !'and fell senseless.
Domingo and myself carried him into the kept him continually in action, walking
woods, where we recovered him with some with him in rain and sunshine, night and
difficulty. He made an effort to return to day, and contriving that he should lose
the sea-shore; but, having conjured him himself inthe depths of forests, leading him
not to renew his own anguish and ours by over untilled grounds, and endeavouring,
those cruel remembrances, he took another by violent fatigue, to divert his mind from
direction. During eight days, he sought its gloomy meditations, and to change the
every spot where he had once wandered course of his reflections, by his ignorance
with the companion of his childhood. He of the paths where we wandered. But the
traced the path by which she had gone to soul of a lover finds every where the traces
intercede for the slave of the Black River. of the object beloved. The night and the
He gazed again upon the banks of the day, the calm of solitude, and the tumult
Three Peaks, where she had reposed her- of crowds, time itself, while it casts the
self when unable to walk further, and upon shade of oblivion over so many other rethat part of the wood where they lost their membrances, in vain would tear that tenway. All those haunts, which recalled the der and sacred recollection from the heart;
inquietudes, the sports, the repasts, the which, like the needle, when touched by
benevolence of her he loved, the river of the loadstone, however it may have been
the Sloping Mountain, my house, the forced into agitation, is no sooner left to
neighbouring cascade, the pappaw tree she repose, than it turns to the pole by which
had planted, the mossy downs where she it was attracted. When I inquired of
loved to run, the openings of the forest Paul, while we wandered amidst the plains
where she used to sing, called forth suc- of Williams, 'Where are we now going ?'
cessively the tears of hopeless passion; and he pointed to the north, and said, 'Yonder
those very echoes which had so often re- are our mountains; let us return.'
"Upon the whole, I found that every
sounded their mutual shouts of joy, now
only repeated those accents of despair, means I took to divert his melancholy was
fruitless, and that no resource was left but
' Virginia! Oh, my dear Virginia!'
"While he led this savage and wander- an attempt to combat his passion by the aring life, his eyes became sunk and hollow, guments which reason suggested. I an.
his skin assumed a yellow tint, and his swered him, 'Yes, thereare the mountains
health rapidly decayed. Convinced that where once dwelt your beloved Virginia;
present sufferings are rendered more acute and this is the picture you gave her, and
by the bitter recollection of past pleasures, which she held, when dying, to her heart,
and that the passions gather strength in so- that heart which, even in her last moments,
beat for you.' 1 then gave Paul the
litude, I resolved to tear my unfortunate only
friend from those scenes which recalled the little picture which he had given Virginia
loss, and to lead him at the borders of the cocoa-tree fountain.
remembrance of his
to a more busy part of the island. VWithAt this sight a gloomy joy overspread his

PAUL AND VIRGINIA.
looks. He eagerly seized the picture with
his feeble hands, and held it to his lips.
His oupressed bosom seemed readytoburst
with emotion, and his eyes were filled with
tears which had no power to flow.'
" ' My son,' said I, 'listen to him who is
your friend, who was the friend of Virginia, and who, in the bloom of your hopes,
enderavoured to fortify your mind against
the unforeseen accidents of life. What do
you deplore with so much bitterness?
Your own misfortunes are indeed severe.
You have lost the most amiable of women;
she who sacrificed her own interests to
yours, who preferred you to all that fortune could bestow, and considered you as
the only recompense worthy of her virtues.
But might not this very object, from whom
you expected the purest happiness, have
proved to you a source of the most cruel
distress ? She had returned poor, disinherited ; and all you could henceforth have
partaken with her was your labours ; while
rendered more delicate by her misfortunes,
you would have beheld her every day
sinking beneath her efforts to share and
soften your fatigues. Had she brought you
children, this would only have servedto increase her inquietudes and your own, from
the difficulty of sustaining your aged parents and your infant family. You will
tell me, there would have been reserved to
you a happiness independent of fortune,
that of protecting a beloved object, which
attaches itself to us in proportion to its
helplessness: that your pains and sufferings would have served to endear you to
each other, and that your passion would
have gathered strength from your mutual
misfortunes. Undoubtedly, virtuous love
can shed a charm.over pleasures which are
thus mingled with bitterness. But Virginia is no more; yet those persons still live,
whom, next to yourself, she held most
dear; her mothers and your own, whom
your inconsolable affliction is bending with
sorrow to the grave. Place your happiness,
as she did hers, in affording them succour.
And why deplore the fate of Virginia ?
Virginia still exists. There is, be assured,
a region in which virtue receives its reward. Virginia now is happy. Ah! if,
from the abode of angels, she could tell
you, as she did when she bid you farewell,
O, Paul, life is but a trial. I was faithful
to the laws of nature, love, and virtue.
Heaven found I had fulfilled my duties,
and snatched me for ever from all the miseries I might have endured myself, and
all I might have felt for the miseries of
others. I am placed above the reach of all
human evils, and you pity me! I am
become pure and unchangeable as a particle of light, and you would recall to me the
darkness of human life. 0 Paul ! O, my
beloved friend ! recollect those days of happiness, when in the morning we felt the
delightful sensations excited by the unfolding beauties of nature; when we gazed
upon the sun gilding the peaks of those
rocks, and then spreading his rays over the
bosom of the forests. How exquisite were
uour emotions while we enjoyed the glow-

ing colours of the opening day, the odourq
of our shrubs, the concerts of our birds!
Now, at the source of beauty, from which
flows all that is delightful upon earth, my
soul intuitively sees, tastes, hears, touches,
what before she could only be made sensible of through the medium of our weak
organs. Ah ! what language can describe
those shores of eternal bliss which I inhabit for ever ! All that infinite power and
celestial bounty can confer, that harmony
which results from friendship with numberless beings, exulting in the same felicity,
we enjoy in unmixed perfection. Support
then the trial which is allotted you, that
you may heighten the happiness of your
Virginia by love which will know no termination, by hymeneals which will be immortal, There I will calm your regrets, I
will
wipe away your tears. Oh, my beloved friend! my husband ! raise your
thoughts towards infinite duration, and
bear the evils of a moment.'
" My own emotion choaked my utterance. Paul, looking at me steadfastly,
cried, ' She is no more ! she is no more !'
and a long fainting fit succeeded that melancholy exclamation. When restored to
himself he said, 'Since death is a good,
and since Virginia is happy, I would die
too, and-be united to Virginia.' Thus the
motives of consolation I had offered, only
served to nourish his despair. I was like
a man who attempts to save a friend, sinking in the midst of a flood, and refusing to
swim. Sorrow had overwhelmed his soul.
Alas! the misfortunes of early years prepare man for the struggles of life : but Paul
had never known adversity.
"I led him back to his own dwelling,
where I found his mother and Madame de
laTour in a state of increased languor, but
Those lively
Margaret drooped most.
charactersupon which light afflictions make
a small impression, are least capable of resisting great calamities.
"'Oh, my good friend,' said Margaret,
'methought last night I saw Virginia
dressed in white, amidst delicious bowers
and gardens, She said to me,-I enjoy the
most perfect happiness ;-and then approaching Paul with a smiling air, she bore
him away. While I struggled to retain my
son, I felt that I myself was quitting the
earth, and that 1 followed him with inexpressible delight. I then wished to bid my
friend farewell, when I saw that she wa.
hastening after me with Mary and Do.
mingo. But what seems most strange is,
that Madame de la Tour has this very night
had a dream attended with the sareep circumstances.'
"' My dear friend,' I replied, 'nothing,
I believe, happens in this world without
the permission of God. Dreams sometimes
foretell the truth.'
"Madame de la Tour related to me her
dream, which was exactly similar ; and as
I had never observed in either of those persons any propensity to superstition, I was
struck with the singular coincidence of
their dreams, which, I had little doubt,
would be soon realized.

PAUL AND VIRGINIA.

37

" What I expected took place. Paul but their memory is engraven upon our
died two months after the death of Virgi- hearts, in characters which are indelible ;
nia, whose name dwelt upon his lips even and surely if those pure spirits still take an
in his expiring moments. Eight days after interest in what passes upon earth, they
the death of her son, Margaret saw herlast love to wander beneath the roofs of these
hour approach with that serenity which dwellings, which are inhabited by industrivirtue only can feel. She bade Madame ous virtue, to console the poor who cornde la Tour the most tender farewell, 'in plain of their destiny, to cherish in the
the hope,' she said, ' of a sweet and eternal hearts of lovers the sacred flame of fidelity,
re-union. Death is the most precious to inspire a taste for the blessings of nagood,' added she, 'and we ought to desire ture, the love of labour, and the dread of
it. If life be a punishment, we should riches.
wish for its termination ; if it be a trial, we
" The voice of the people, which is ofshould be thankful that it is short.'
ten silent with regard to those monuments
"The governor took care of Domingo reared to flatter the pride of kings, has
and Mary, who were no longer able to la- given to some parts of this island names
bour,and who survived their mistresses which will immortalize the loss of Virginia.
but a short time. As for poor Fidele, he Near the Isle of Amber, in the midst of
pined to death, at the period he lost his sand-banks, is a spot called the Pass of
master.
Saint-Geran, from the name of the vessel
" I conducted Madame de laTour to my which there perished. The extremity of
dwelling, and she bore her calamities with that point of land, which is three leagues
elevated fortitude. She had endeavoured distant, and half covered by the waves, and
to comfort Paul and Margaret till the last which the Saint-Geran could not double on
moments,. as if she herself had no agonies the night preceding the hurricane, is called
to bear. When they were no more, she the Cape of Misfortune; and before us, at
used to talk of them as of beloved friends, the end of the valley, is the Bay of the
from whom she was not distant. She sur- Tomb, where Virginia was found buried in
vived them but one month. Far from re- the sand; as if the waves had sought to reproaching her aunt for those afflictions she store her corpse to her family, that they
had caused; her benign'spirit prayed to might tender it the last sad duties on those
God to pardon her, and to appease that re- shores, of which her innocence had been
morse which the consequences of her cruel- the ornament.
ty would probably awaken in her breast.
" Ye faithful lovers, who were so tender" I heard, by successive vessels which ar. ly united ! unfortunate mothers ! beloved
rived from Europe, that this unnatural re- family ! those woods which sheltered you
lation, haunted by a troubled conscience, with their foliage, those fountains which
accused herself continually of the untimely flowed for you, those hillocks upon which
fate of her lovely niece, and the death of her you reposed, still deplore your loss ! No
mother, and became at intervals bereft of one since presumed to cultivate that desoher reason. Her relations, whom she hat- lated ground, or repair those fallen huts.
ed, took the direction of her fortune, after Your goats are become wild, your orchards
shutting her up as a lunatic, though she are destroyed, your birds are fled, and no.
possessed sufficient use of her reason to feel thing is heard but the cry of the sparrow
all the pangs of her dreadful situation, and hawk, who skims around the valley or
died at length in agonies of despair.
rocks. As for myself, since I behold you
" The body of Paul was placed by the no more, I am like a father bereft of his
side of his Virginia, at the foot of the same children, like a traveller who wanders over
shrubs ; and on that hallowed spot the re- the earth desolate and alone !"
mains of their tender mothers and faithful + In saying these words, the good old man
servants are laid. No marble covers the retired, shedding tears, and mine had often
turf, no inscription records their virtues ; flowed during this melancholy narration.

THE INDIAN COTTAGE.

thirty years ago a society of EngABOUT
lish literati was formed at London, who
undertook to visit the various regions of
the globe, in quest of information in every
department of science, with a view to enlighten mankind, and to make them more
happy. The expenses of this society were
to be defrayed by subscriptions contributed
by merchants, peers, bishops, the universities, the royal family, and even by several
sovereigns of the north of Europe. These
literati were twenty in number, and the
Royal Society of London had furnished
each of them with a volume, containing a
list of the questions to which they were to
procure answers. These questionsamounted in number to 3500. Though they were
all different for each of the travellers, and
adapted to the country which they were
about to visit, they were all connected with
each other in such a manner, that the
light diffused over one must necessarily
have extended to all the others. The pre.
sident of the Royal Society, who had drawn
them up with the aid of his colleagues, was
perfectly sensible that the explanation of
one difficulty frequently depends on the solution of another, and this again on that
which precedes it; so that we may be led,
in the search of truth, much farther than
we could have at first imagined. In short,
to use the very expressions employed by
the president in their instructions, it was
the most splendid edifice that any nation
had ever erected for the purpose of promoting general knowledge; which, he added, was a sufficient proof of the necessity
of academical societies, to arrange and embody the truths dispersed over the whole
extent of the earth,
Besides being provided with this volume
of the questions, each of the learned travellers was commissioned to purchase by
the way the most ancient copies of the
Bible, and the rarest manuscripts of every
kind, or at least to spare no pains to procure accurate copies of them. For this
purpose the subscribers to the fund had
procured all of them letters of recommendation to the councils, ministers, and ambassadors of great Britain, in the places
they were to visit; and what was still

more useful, good bills of exchange, endorsed by the most eminent bankers in
London.
The most learned of these doctors, who
understood the Hebrew, Arabic, and Hindoo languages, was sent overland to the
East Indies, the cradle of every art and of
every science. He first went to Holland,
and visited successively the synagogue
of Amsterdam and the synod of Dordrecht; in France, the Sorbonne, and the
Academy of Sciences at Paris; in Italy, a
great number of academies, museums, and
libraries; among the rest the Museum of
Florence, the Library of St. Mark at Venice, and that of the Vatican at Rome.
While in the last-mentioned city, he was
uncertain whether he should go to Spain,
to consult the famous university of Salamanca, before he proceeded to the East;
but being afraid of the Inquisition, he determined to embark direct for Turkey. He
repaired to Constantinople, where an Effendi permitted him, for money, to inspect
all the books in the mosque of St. Sophia.
Leaving the Turkish metropolis, he went
to Egypt, and after visiting the Copts, the
Maronites of Mount Libanus, and the
monks of Mount Cossim, he continued his
journey to Sana in Arabia, and afterwards
to Ispahan, Kindahar, Delhi, and Agra.
At length, after a peregrination of three
years, he arrived on the banks of the
Ganges, at Benares, the Athens of India,
where he conferred with the Bramins. His
collections of ancient editions, original
works, rare manuscripts, copies, extracts,
and annotations of every kind, by this time,
exceeded in magnitude any thing that had
ever been made by an individual. Suffice
it to say, that it formed ninety packages,
weighing together nine thousand five hundred and forty pounds, avoirdupois. He
was on the point qf embarking for London,
with this rich cargo of knowledge, overjoyed at having exceeded the hopes of the
Royal Society, when a very simple reflection converted all his pleasures into morts
fication.
He considered that, after having conferred with the Jewish Rabbis, the Protestant
Ministers, the Catholic Doctors, the Aca-

40

THE INDIAN COTTAGE.

demians of Paris, of La Crusca, of the Ar- eminently distinguished, he had yet made
cades, and twenty-four more of the most ce- implacable enemies of all the doctors with
lebrated Academies of Italy, the Greek whom he had argued. What then, said
Papas, the Turkish Molhas, the Armenian he, can secure the peace of my country.
Verbiests, the Persian Seidres and Casys, the men, when, instead of truth, I bring them,
Arab Sheikhs, the ancient Parsees, the In- inmy ninety bales, new subjects of doubt
dian:Pandects, so far from having elucidated and of dispute?
any one of the three thousand five hundred
He was on the point of embarking for
questions of the Royal Society, he had on- England, with a mind divided between
ly contributed to multiply doubts relative perplexity and disgust, when the Bramins
to them; and, as they were all connected of Benares informed him that the superior
with each other, the result was the very Bramin of the celebrated pagoda of Jagerreverse of the illustrious president's idea ; naut, situated on the coast of Orixa, on the
namely, the obscurity of one solution dark- sea-shore, near one of the mouths of the
ened the evidence of another; the plainest Ganges, was alone capable of resolving all
truths had become quite problematical, and the questions of the Royal Society of Lonit was even impossible to discover a single don. He was, in truth, the most famous
one in this vast labyrinth of contradictory Pandect or doctor that ever was heard of;
answers and authorities.
people came to consult him from all parts
The doctor formed this judgment from a of India, and even from various other
general survey. Among these questions regions of Asia.
were two hundred on the theology of the ' The English doctor immediately set out
Hebrews; four hundred and eighty on for Calcutta, and applied to the principal
that of the different communions of the officer of the English East-India Company
Greek and Romish churches; three hun- at that place, who, for the honour of his
dred and twelve on the ancient religion of ration, and the glory of the sciences, gave
the Bramins; five hundred and eight on him fbr his conveyance to Jagernaut, a
the Sanscrit or sacred language: three on palanquin, with an awning of crimson
the present state of the nations of India; silk, with gold tassels, and two relays of
two hundred and eleven on the commerce vigorous coulis, or bearers, of four men
of the English in India; seven hundred each; two porters, a water-carrier, a carand nineteen on the ancient monuments rier of refreshments, a pipe-bearer, a para.
in the island of Elephanta or Salsette, near sol-bearer, to screen him from the sun by
Bombay; five on the antiquity of the day, a masalchi, or torch-bearer for the
world; six hundred and seventy-three on night; a wood-cutter, two cooks, two
the origin of ambergris, and on the pro.s
camels and their guides, to carry his properties of the bezoar ; one on the yet un- visions and his baggage; two runners to
examined cause of the current of the announce his approach; four sea-poys or
Indian ocean, which flows six months rajahpoots, mounted on Persian horses to
towards the east, and six months towards escort him, and a standard-bearer with a
the west; and three hundred and seventy- standard, on which were displayed the
eight on the sources and periodical inun- arms of England. You would have taken
dations of the Ganges:
On this occasion the doctor, with his splendid equipage, for
the doctor was advised to collect by the some deputed agent of the India Conway all the information he could, relative pany ; but there was this difference, that,
to the sources and inundations of the Nile, instead of receiving, the doctor was comwhich, for so many centuries, engaged the pissioned to make presents. As it is not
attention of the learned in Europe; but he customary to appear empty-handed in
thought that this subject had been suffi- India before persons of dignified stations,
ciently discussed, and that it was irrelevant ithe governor gave him, at the national
to his mission. Now he had obtained, expense, a beautiful telescope and a Perupon an average, five different solutions to sian carpet for the chief of the Bramins,
each of the questions proposed by the some magnificent dresses for his wife, and
Royal Society; which gave for the whole three pieces of China taffeta, red, white,
three thousand five hundred questions, a and yellow, to make scarfs for his d' ciples.
total of seventeen thousand five hundred The camels being laden with these prewswers; and supposing that each of his sents, the doctor set out in his palanquin,
nineteen colleagues should bring home as with the book of the Royal Society.
By the way he considered, what quesmany, the Royal Society would consequently have to resolve three hundred and tion he should first put to the chief of the
fifty thousand difficulties, before they could Bramins of Jagernaut, whether he should
establish one single truth on a solid basis. begin with one of the three hundred and
Thus their whole collection, instead of sixty-eight, that related to the sources and
making each proposition converge towards inundations of the Ganges, or that conone common centre, according to their in- cerning the alternate and half-yearly curstructions, would, on the contrary, cause rents of the Indian sea, which might conthem to diverge from each other, without tribute towards the discovery of the
any possibility of approximating them. sources and periodical movements of the
over the whole globe; but though
Another reflection likewise gave the docgreat
tor uneasiness. It was this, that this question would have been infinitely
though he had employed in his laborious more interesting to physics, than all the
so
investigations all the coolness of his coun- i nquiries made for many ages relative to
iry, and a politeness for which he was the sourcesandinundations even of the Nile

l'ocean

THE INDIAN COTTAGE.
itself, it had not yet engaged the attention
of the literati of Europe. He therefore
preferred to interrogate the Bramin on the
universality of the Deluge, which has excited so many disputes ; or to go back still
farther, and inquire whether it be true that
the sun has several times altered his course,
and risen in the west, and set in the east,
according to the tradition of the priests of
Egypt, recorded by Herodotus; or to question him concerning the period of the
creation of the world, to which the Indians
give an antiquity of several millions of
years. Sometimes he thought it would be
more useful to consult him upon the best
form of government for a nation, or upon
the rights of man, of which no code exists
in any country; but these last questions
were not in his book.
However, said the doctor to himself, I
should think it advisable, in the first place,
to ask the Indian Pandect how it is possible to discover truth ; for if this is to be
done by means of reason, as I have hitherto
been endeavouring to find it, reason varies
in every individual. I must therefore ask
him where truth is to be sought; for if it
is in books, they all contradict one another : and, lastly, whether truth should be
communicated to men, for no sooner do
you make them acquainted with it, than
you see them at variance with you. These
three preliminary questions were not
thought of by our illustrious president. If
the Bramin of Jagernaut can resolve them,
I shall possess the key to all the sciences;
and what is still more desirable, I shall
live in peace with all the world,
In this manner the doctor reasoned with
himself. After a journey of ten days, he
reached the shores of the gulf of Bengal,
and met a great number of people returning from Jagernaut, and extolling the
knowlege of the chief of the Pandects,
whom they had been to consult. On the
eleventh day, at sunrise, he perceived the
famous pagoda of Jagernaut, built on the
sea shores, which it overlooked with its
high red walls, and its galleries, its domes,
and its turrets of white marble. It rose
from the centre of nine avenues of eververdant trees, which branch off towards
the same number of kingdoms. Each of
these avenues is formed of a different species of trees, of the areka-palm, the teak,
the cocoa, the mango, the latanier, the
camphor, the bamboo, the badamier, the
sandal, and lead towards Ceylon, Golconda,
Arabia, Persia, Thibet, China, Ava, Siam,
and the islands of the Indian ocean. The
doctor proceeded towards the pagoda by the
avenue of bamboos, which runs along the
bank of the Ganges, and by the enchanting
islands at the mouth of the river. This
pagoda, though situated in a plain, is so
lofty, that the traveller who perceives it in
the morning cannot reach it before night.
The doctor was filled with the highest admiration on a nearer view of its grandeur
and magnificence. Its gates of brass glistened with the rays of the setting sun, and
eagles hovered about its roof, which was
lost in the clouds. It was surrounded by

41

vast basins of white marble, which reflect.
ed in their pellucid waters, its domes, its
galleries, and its gates; all round it were
immense courts and gardens, enclosed by
capacious buildings, the habitations of the
Bramins, by whom the sacred edifice was
attended.
The doctor's runners hastened to announce his arrival, and a company of
young bayaderes immediately advanced
from the gardens to meet him, singing and
dancing to the sound of tabors. Round
their necks they had collars made of the
blossoms of mougris, and abouttheirwaists
they had garlands of odoriferous flowers.
Amidst their perfumes, their dancing, and
their music, the doctor proceeded to the
door of the pagoda, at the farther end of
which he perceived, by the light of several
lamps, of gold and silver, the Jagernaut,
the seventh incarnation of Brama, in the
form of a pyramid, without feet or hands,
which he had lost in attempting to carry
the world, in order to save it. At his feet
a number of penitents lay prostrate, with
their faces to the ground; some of whom
promised aloud to hook themselves by the
shoulders to his chariot on his festival,
and others vowed to submit to be crushed
to death under its wheels. Though the
spectacle of these fanatics, who heaved
deep sighs while pronouncing their horrible
vows, excited a kind of terror, the doctor
was preparing to enter the pagoda, when
an aged Bramin, who officiated as doorkeeper, stopped him, and inquired what
business had brought him thither. Being
made acquainted with it, he told the doctor,
that, as he was a frangui, or impure man,
he could not be permitted to appear before
Jagernaut, or his high-priest, till he had
washed himself three times in one of the
lavers of the temple, and had stripped off
every thing that had belonged to any animal; that he must not have about him, in
particular, either the hair of cows, because
i they are adored by the Bramins, or of
hogs, because they hold these creatures in
abhorrence. What then shall I do? re.
plied the doctor ; I have brought, as presents to the chief of the Bramins, a Persian
carpet, made of the hair of the goat of
Angora, and China stuffs, which are of
silk.-All offerings, replied the Bramin, to
the temple of Jagernaut, or to his highpriest, are purified by the very gift; but
this cannot be the case with your garments.
The doctor was therefore obliged to take
off his coat of English wool, his goat-skin
shoes, and his beaver hat; after which, an
aged Bramin, having washed him three
times, covered him with a kind of cotton
stuff, of a yellow colour, and conducted
him to the entrance of the apartment of
the chief of the Bramins. The doctor was
preparing to enter, carrying under his arm
the volume of questions by the Royal Society, when his conductor inquired with
what material the book was covered. It is
bound in calf, replied the doctor. What !
said the enraged Bramin, have I not told
you that the cow was adored by the Bra.
mins, and would you presume to appeaz

S2

THE INDIAN

before their chief with abook covered with
calf's skin? The doctor would have been
obliged to return and purify himself in the
Ganges, had he not spared himself the
trouble, by presenting a few pagodas to his
conductor. He therefore left the book of
questions in his palanquin, consoling himself with the reflection, that he had only
three questions to ask of the Indian doctor.
I shall be perfectly satisfied, said he, if he
tells me how truth should besought, where
it may be found, and whether it should be
communicated to men.
The aged Bramin now introduced the
English doctor, clad in his cotton robe,
bareheaded and barefooted, to the highpriest of Jagernaut, seated in avast saloon,
supported by columns of sandal wood. The
walls were green, being plastered with
stucco, mixed with cow-dung, so brilliant
and so highly polished, that you might see
your face in it. The floor was covered
with very fine mats, six feet square. At
the farther end of the saloon was an alcove, surrounded with a balustrade of
ebony; and over this alcove was seen,
through a lattice-work of red-tinged bamboo, the venerable chief of the Pandects,
with his white beard, and three stripes of
cotton fastened like a shoulder-belt, according to the custom of the Bramins. He
was sitting cross-legged on a yellow carpet,
so completely motionless, that he did not
even turn his eyes. Some of his disciples
were driving the flies from him with fans
of peacocks' feathers; others were burning
the wood of the aloe in silver censers; and
others were playing in the softest manner
on the dulcimer : the rest, in great numbers, among whom were faquirs, joquis,
and santons, were ranged in several rows
on either side of the hall, in profound silence, with their eyes fixed on the ground,
and their arms crossed on their bosoms.
The doctor was advancing to the chief of
the Pandects to pay his compliments, but
his conductor stopped him at the distance
of nine mats, telling him that the omrahs,
or grandees of India were never suffered to
go any farther; that the rajahs, or Indian
sovereigns advanced no nearer than within
six mats; the princes, the sons of the Mogul, no nearer than three; and that the
Mogul alone was allowed the honour of
approaching so near to the venerable chief
as to kiss his feet.
Meanwhile several Bramins carried to
the foot of the alcove, the telescope, the
silks, and the carpets, which the doctor's
attendants had brought to the entrance of
the hall; and the aged Bramin having
looked at them without giving any mark of
approbation, they were conveyed into the
interior of the apartments.
The English doctor was then going to
begin a very florid harangue in the Hindoo
language, when his conductor informed
him that he must be silent till the highpriest should speak to him. He then directed him to squat down on his heels,
cross-legged like a tailor, according to the
custom of the country. The doctor murinured within himself at so many formali-

COTTAGE.
ties; but what will not a man do in ordes
to find truth, especially after he has travelled so far as India in quest of it.
As soon as the doctor was seated, the
music ceased, and, after a profound silence
of a few moments, the chief of the Pan.
dects inquired the cause of his visit to
Jagernaut.
Though the high-priest of Jagernaut had
spoken in the Hindoo language so distinctly as to be heard by the whole assembly,
his words were repeated by one faquir to a
second, by the second to a third, by whom
they were repeated to the doctor. The
latter replied in the same language, that
having heard of the extraordinary reputation of the chief of the Bramins, he had
come to Jagernaut to consult him, and to
inquire the means by which truth might
be discovered.
The doctor's answerwas conveyed to the
chief of the Pandects, by the same interlocutors that had transmitted the question;
and the rest of the conversation was conducted in the same manner.
After a little recollection, the chief of
the Pandects replied: Truth can be known
only by means of the Bramins. The whole
assembly bowed, impressed with admiration for the answer of their chief.
Where must truth be sought? abruptly
rejoined the English doctor. All truth,
replied the aged Indian seer, is contained
in the four beths, written one hundred and
twenty thousand years ago in the Sanscrit
language, which is known only to the Bramins.
At these words shouts of applause resounded from the whole saloon.
The doctor, recovering his temper, then
said to the high-priest of Jagernaut : Since
God has confined truth to books, which are
only understood by the Bramins, it must
thence follow, that God has withheld the
knowledge of it from the greatest part of
mankind, who are ignorant even of the existence of Bramins. Now, were this the
case, God would not be just.
Such was the will of Brama, replied the
high-priest. It is impossible to oppose the
will of Brama. The plaudits of the assembly became still louder. As soon as they
had abated, the Englishman proposed his
third question: Ought truth to be communicated to men ?
It is often prudent, said the aged Pandect, to conceal it from all the world : but
it is the duty of allto tell it to the Bramins.
What ! cried the indignant English doctor, should the truth be told to the Bramins, who never communicate it to any
one. In truth the Bramins are exceedingly unjust.
These words produced a dreadful tumult in the assembly. They had heard
God taxed with injustice without murmuring; but they could not so calmly hear
the same reproach made against them.
selves. The Pandects, the Faquirs, the
Santons, the Joquis, the Bramins, and
their disciples, were all desirous to argue
at once with the English doctor ; but the
high-priest of Jagernaut commanded si-

THE INDIAN COTTAGE.
lence, by striking with his fists, and saying
with a loud voice : The Bramins dispute
not like the doctors of Europe. He then
rose, and retired amid the acclamations
of the whole assembly, who murmured
loudly against the doctor, and would probably have done him a mischief, but for
fear of the English, whose credit is allpowerful on the banks of the Ganges. The
doctor having quitted the saloon, his conductor said to him,-Our most venerable
father would, according to custom, have
caused sherbet, betel, and peffumes, to be
presented to you; but you have excited
his anger.-'Tis I that ought to be angry,
replied the doctor, for having taken so
much useless trouble. But what cause
can your chief have to complain ?-What?
answered his guide, would you pretend to
dispute with him? Do not you know that
he is the oracle of India, and that every
one of his words is a ray of intelligence ?I never doubted it, said the doctor, putting
on his coat, his shoes, and his hat. The
weather was tempestuous, and night approached; he requested leave to remain in
one of the apartments of the pagoda, but
this was refused him, because he was a
frangui. As the ceremony had made him
thirsty, he asked for something to drink.
Some water was brought him in a cup,
which was broken as soon as he had done
drinking, because, as a frangui, he had
polluted it with his touch. The doctor,
highly incensed, called his attendants, prostrate in deep adoration on the steps of the
pagoda, and seating himself in his palanquin, he returned by the Bamboo alley,
along the sea-shore, it being now dusk, and
the sky overcast with clouds. He said to
himself by the way, the Indian proverb is
but too true, that every European who
comes to India, acquires patience if he has
none, or loses it if he has. For my part, I
have certainly lost mine. How provoking,
that I cannot learn by what means truth
may be found, where it should be sought,
and whether it ought to be communicated
to men! Man, therefore, is doomed over
the whole world to errors and disputes : it
was truly worth while to come to India to
consult the Bramins on the subject !
While the doctor was thus reasoning in
his palanquin, one of those storms, which
in India are called a typhion, came on.
The wind blew from the sea, and drove
back the waters of the Ganges, which broke
foaming against the islands at its mouth.
It swept from their shores columns of sand,
and from their forest clouds of leaves,
which it carried across the river and the
fields to a great height into the air. Sometimes it spent its force among the bamboos,
and though these Indian reeds are as high
as the tallest trees, it agitated them like
the grass in the field. Amid clouds of
dust and of leaves was perceived their long
undulating avenue, one part of which was
bending to the right and left to the ground,
while the other rose with a creaking noise.
The doctor's people, afraid lest they should
be crushed by them, or carried away by the
waters of the Ganges, which already began

43

to overflow their banks, turned off across
the plain, directing their steps at random
towards the neighbouring eminences.
Night, however, came on, and they proceeded three hours in the most profound
darkness, not knowing whither they went,
when a flash of lightning, cleaving the
clouds, and illumining the whole horizon,
enabled them to perceive the pagoda of
Jagernaut, the islands of the Ganges, and
the agitated sea, at a great distance to their
right, and close to them a little valley with
a wood situated between two hills. Thither they hastened for shelter, and already
heard the dismal roaring of the thunder
when they reached the entrance of the valley. It was flanked with rocks, and covered
with aged trees of prodigious size. Though
the tempests bowed their tops with a terrible roaring, their enormous trunks stood
as unshaken as the rocks by which they
were surrounded. This portion of the ancient forest seemed to be the asylum of
repose, but it was difficult to penetrate it.
Rotins,which crept around its skirts, covered the foot of the trees, and liannes, entangled from trunk to trunk, formed a
rampart of foliage, behind which appeared
caverns of verdure, but without any entrance. The rajahpoots, however, opened
a passage with their sabres, and the whole
retinue entered with the palanquin. Here
they thought to find shelter from the
storm, when the rain, descending with excessive violence, formed around them a
thousand torrents. In this dilemma, they
espied a light, and a hut beneath the trees,
in the narrowest part of the valley. The
masalchi hastened to light his flambeau;
but soon returned out of breath, crying,
Don't go near the house-it belongs to a
Paria. The whole affrighted troop immediately exclaimed,-A Paria !-a Paria !
The doctor, supposing it to be some ferocious beast, seized his pistols. What is a
Paria ? said he to the torch-bearer.-'Tis a
man who has neither faith nor law. 'Tis
an Indian, added the chief of the rajahpoots, of a cast so infamous, that it is lawful to kill him if he only touches you. If
we enter his house, we shall not be permitted for nine moons to set foot in any pagoda, and to purify ourselves we must bathe
nine times in the Ganges, and be washed
as many times from head to foot with cow's
urine, by the hands of a Bramin.-No,
cried all the Indians, we will not enter the
house of a Paria !-How could you tell,
said the doctor to the torch-bearer, that
your countryman was a Paria! that is, a
man without faith or law ? When I opened
the door ofhis hut, answered the torch-bearer, I saw him lying with his dog on the same
mat with his wife, to whom he was giving
some drink in a cow's horn.-No, repeated
all the doctor's attendants, we will not
enter the habitation of a Paria.-Stay here,
if you please, said the Englishman; for my
part, all the casts of India are alike to me,
when I am seeking a shelter from the rain.
So saying, he leaped out of his palanquin,
put his book of questions and his night-cap
under his arm, and taking his pistols and

44

THE INDIAN COTTAGE.

his pipe in his hand, proceeded alone to.the
door of the hut. No sooner had heknocked, than a man of a very mild countenance
opened the door, and immediately drew
back, saying, Sir, I am but a poor Paria,
who am unworthy to receive you; but if
you think fit to take shelter here, you will
do me great honour.-Brother, replied the
Englishman, I willingly accept your hospitality. The Paria then went out with a
torch in his hand, a load of dry wood on
his shoulder, and a basket full of cocoanuts and bananas under his arm; he approached the doctor's attendants, who were
at some distance from the hut under a tree,
and said to them, Since you will not do me
the honour to come to my habitation, here
are fruits wrapped in their rinds, which
you Tnay eat without fear of pollution, and
there is fire to dry yourselves, and to protect you from the tigers. God preserve
you !-He immediately returned to his hut,
and said to the doctor, Sir, I repeat to you
that I am only an unfortunate Paria; but
as I perceive by your complexion and your
dress that you are not an Indian, I hope
you will not dislike the victuals which your
poor servant shall set before you. At the
same time he placed on a mat upon the
floor, mangoes, cream apples, yams, potatoes
roasted in the ashes, broiled bananas, and
a dish of rice, prepared with sugar and cocoa-nut milk; after which he withdrew to
his mat, seating himself by his wife and
infant child, who was asleep near her in a
cradle. Virtuous man, said the Briton,
you are much my superior, since you do
good to those who despise you. If you refuse to honour me with your company on
the same mat, 1 shall believe that you take
me for a wicked man, and shall instantly
leave your hut, were 1 even to be drowned
by the rain, or devoured by tigers.
The Paria then advancing, sat down on
the same mat with his guest, and both began to eat. Meanwhile the doctor enjoyed
the pleasure of being under a shelter in the
midst of the tempest. The hut was as immoveable as a rock: it was not only situated in the narrowest part of the valley, but
was built under a war, or banian fig-tree,
the ends of whose branches, bending down
to the ground, take root, and form as many
arches, which support the principal stem.
The foliage of this tree was so thick, that
not a drop of water penetrated through it;
and though the hurricane howled horribly,
and the pealing thunder rolled over head,
yet the smoke of the fire which passed
through the middle of the roof, and the
flame of the lamp, were not in the least
agitated. The doctor admired the tranquillity of the Indian and his wife, still
more profound than that of the elements.
Their child, black, and smooth as ebony,
slept in its cradle, which the mother rocked
with her foot, while she amused herself
with making for her infant a necklace of
red and black Angola peas. The father
looked with eyes beaming affection, first at
one and then at the other. The very dog
participated in the general happiness; he
lay with a cat before the fire, opened his

eyes from time to time, and looked with a
sigh at his master.
As soon as the Englishman had done eating, the Paria held him a live coal to light
his pipe, and having lighted his own, he
made a sign to his wife, who placed upon
the mat two cocoa.nut shell goblets, and
a large calabash full of punch, which she
had made during supper, with water, arrack, lemon-juice, and the juice of the
sugar-cane.
While they were smoking and drinking
by turns, the doctor said to the Indian, In
my opinion, you are one of the happiest,
and consequently one of the wisest men I
ever met with. Permit me to ask you a
few questions. How comes it that you are
so tranquil in the midst of such a tremendous storm? You have no other covering
than a tree, and trees attract lightning.Never was there an instance, replied the
Paria, of a baman fig-tree being struck by
lightning.-That is very curious, replied
the doctor; that tree must undoubtedly
have a negative electricity, like the laurel
-- I.do not understand you, answered the
Paria; but my wife believes that the reason of it is, because Brama one day took
shelter under its foliage: for my part, I
think that God having given the banian
fig-tree very thick foliage and arched
bowers, to shelter man from storms in this
tempestuous climate, does not permit them
to be struck by lightning,-Your answer is
truly religious, rejoined the doctor. Then
it is your confidence in God that imparts
such composure to your mind. A good
conscience is much more cheering than
knowledge. Tell me, I pray, to what sect
you belong : for you are not of any of
those that are found in India, since no Indian will associate with you. In the list of
learned casts which I have consulted in my
travels, I have not found that of the Pa.
rias. In what part of India is your pa.
goda ?-Every where, replied the Paria;
my pagoda is Nature ; I adore her Author
at the rising of the sun, and bless Him at
the decline of day. Taught by misfortune,
I never refuse my aid to one more wretched than myself. I endeavour to make my
wife, my child, and even my cat and my
dog happy. I await death at the end of
my life as a sweet slumber at the close of
day.-From what book have you imbibed these principles ? asked the doctor.From that of Nature, replied the Indian;
I know no other.-Ah ! rejoined the Englishman, that is a great book: but who
taught you to read in it ?-Adversity, answered the Paria. As I was of a cast reputed infamous in my country, and could
not be an Indian, I made myself a man
being an outcast from society, I sought refuge with Nature.-But you must at least
have a few books in your retirement, said
the doctor.-Not one, said the Paria; I
cannot even read or write.-You have
spared yourself many doubts and difficulties, said the doctor, rubbing his forehead;
as for me, I have been sent from England,
my native country, to seek truth among
the learned of many nations, in order to

THE INDIAN COTTAGE.
nlighten men, and make them more happy; but after much useless research, and
many serious disputes, I have concluded
that it is folly to seek truth, because when
you have found it, you cannot declare it
without making a great number of enemies.
Tell me now sincerely, are not you of the
same opinion ?--Though I am but an ignorant man, answered the Paria, since you per.
mit me to express my opinion, I think that
it behoves every man to seek truth for his
own happiness; otherwise he would be avar.
icious, ambitious, superstitious, nay even a
cannibal, according to the prejudices or
interests of those by whom he was educated.
The doctor, who still bore in mind the
three questions he had proposed to the
chief of the Paiidects, was delighted with
the answer of the Paria. Since you believe,
said he, that it behoves every man to seek
the truth, tell me what means should he
employ to discover it; for our senses fre.
quently delude us, and our reason leads us
still farther astray. Reason varies almost
in every individual; in fact, I should conceive that it is nothing more than the particular interest of each of them; and on
this account it differs so much all over the
world. There are not two religions, two
nations, two tribes, two families, nay, not
even two men, who think alike. With
what sense then should truth be sought, if
that of intelligence cannot be employed for
the purpose ?-I should imagine, replied
the Paria, that it should be sought with a
simple heart. The senses and the under.
standing maybe deceived; but a simple
heart, though it may itself be deluded, ne.
ver deludes.
Your answer is just, said the doctor;
truth should be sought with the heart, and
not with the understanding. All men feel
in the same manner, and reason differently, because the principles of truth are in
Nature and the consequences they deduce
from them are their interests. Truth
must, therefore, be sought with a simple
heart; for a simple heart never pretended
to understand what it did not understand,
or believe what it did not believe. It is not
instrumental either in deceiving itself or
others; accordingly, a simple heart, instead
of being weak like those of most men seduced by their interests, is strong, and
adapted to the search of truth.-You have
explained my idea much better than I could
have done, replied the Paria; truth is like
the dew of Heaven : to keep it pure, it
must be received in a pure vessel
Admirably well said, sincere man ! answered the Briton; but the most difficult
part still remains to be settled. Where
should truth be sought? A simple heart
depends on ourselves, but truth depends on
others. Where shall we find it, if those
about us are seduced by their prejudices,
or corrupted by their interests, as they in
general are ? I have visited many nations;
I; have ransacked their libraries; I have
consulted their doctors, and have found
nothing but contradictions, doubts, and
opinions, a thousand times more varied
than their languages. If truth cannot be

45

found in the most celebrated storehouses of
human knowledge, whither shall we go in
quest of it. What advantage shall we de.
rive from the possession of a simple heart,
among men of false understandings and
corrupted hearts ?-I should be inclined to
suspect truth, answered the Paria, were it
conveyed to me only through the medium
of men: it is not among them, but in Na.
ture that it should be sought. Nature is
the source of every thing that exists: her
language is not unintelligible and variable,
like that of men and of their books. Men
made books, but Nature made things. To
ground truth on a book would be as absurd
as to deduce it from a picture or a statue,
which can instruct only one country, and
which time is daily impairing. All books
are the art of man, but Nature is the
art of God.
You are perfectly right, answered the
doctor: Nature is the source of natural
truths, but where exists the source of
historical truths, for example, if not in
books ? How can we, at the present day,
ascertain the truth of a circumstance
which occurred two thousand years ago ?
Were those by whom it has been transmit.
ted to us free from prejudices and from
party spirit? Had they a simple heart ?
Besides, have not the books they transmit
to us occasion for copyists, printers, com.
mentators, translators ? and do not all these
alter the truth more or less? As you justly
observe, a book is but the heart of man.
We must, therefore, renounce all historic
truth, since we receive it through the me.
dium of men liable to error.-Of what
importance to our happiness, said the
Indian, is the history of past events? The
history of the present is the history of the
past and the future.
Very well, said the Englishman: but
you will admit that moral truths are necessary for the happiness of mankind. How
are these to be found in Nature? The
animals wage war, kill and devour each
other; the very elements contend with the
elements: shall men follow their example?
-Oh, no ! replied the good Paria; but
every man will find the rule of his conduct
in his own heart, if his heart be simple.
Nature has engraved on it this law : Do
not to others what you would not that
others should do to you.-It is true, answered the doctor; she has regulated the
interests ofmankindbythoseofindividuals;
but how are religious truths to be discovered among so many traditions and forms of
worship which divide nations ?-In Nature
herself, said the Paria ; if we contemplate
her with a simple heart, we shall there
behold God in his power, his intelligence,
his bounty; and, as we are feeble, ignorant,
and miserable, this is sufficient to make us
adore and love him all our lives, without
engaging in foolish disputes.
Admirable, exclaimed the Englishman;
But now, answer me this question: when
we have discovered the truth, ought we to
communicate it to others? If you publish
it you will be persecuted by an infinite
multitude of persons, who live by the con.
N

46

THE INDIAN COTTAGE.

trary error, maintaining that this very
error is truth, and that whatever tends to
destroy it is error.-Truth, replied the
Paria, should be told only to such as have
simple hearts, that is, to good people who
seek it, and not to the wicked by whom it
is rejected. Truth is like a valuable pearl,
and the wicked man like a crocodile, who
cannot hang it to his ears, because he has
none. Throw a pearl to a crocodile;
instead of adorning himself with it, he
would try to devour it; he would break
his teeth, and rush furiously upon you
as the cause of his disappointment.
I have but one more objection to make,
said the Englishman, which is this:
From what you have said, it follows, that
men are doomed to error, though truth is
necessary for them ; for since they persecute
those who proclaim it, what teacher will
venture to undertake the task of instructing
them ?-That teacher, replied the Paria,
who persecutes men, with a view to enlighten them; I mean adversity.-For once
I think you are mistaken, man of Nature,
replied the Englishman. Adversity plunges
men into superstition ; it debases the heart
and the understanding. The more wretched men are, so much the more vile, credulous, and servile, they are.-That is because
they are not sufficiently wretched, rejoined
the Paria. Adversity resembles the black
mountain of Belmber, on the confines of
the burning kingdom of Lahor; while you
are ascending, you perceive nothing before
you but barren rocks, but when you have
gained the summit, you see the heavens
over your head, and at your feet the delicious
plains of Cashmire.
A just and charming comparison ! replied
the doctor; every man has, indeed, in this
life, his mountain to climb, Yours, virtuous recluse, must have been very rugged :
for you have raised yourself toan elevation
which no man that I ever knew had
attained. You must have experienced
great distress. But tell me, for what reason is your cast so degraded, and that of
the Bramins so highly honoured in India ?
I have been to visit the superior of the
pagoda of Jagernaut, who thinks no more
than his idol, and is adored like a god.The reason is, replied the Paria, because
the Bramins pretend that they originally
sprung from the head of Brama, and that
the Parias issued forth from his feet.
They add farther, that Brama, as he was
travelling one day, applied for some refreshment to a Paria, who set before him
human flesh. Since that time their cast
has been honoured, and ours held in abhorrence throughout all India. We are
not permitted to approach the towns, and
any naire or rajahpoot may kill us, if we
go only so near as to breathe upon him.y St. George, exclaimed the Bjriton, that
Is exceedingly foolish and unjust!
How
could the Bramins have persuaded the
Indians to believe such nonsense ?-By
instilling it into their minds in their infancy.-Unfortunate man! said the doctor;
how did you contrive to extricate yourself
fromnt
the abyss of infamy into which the

Bramins had plunged you at your very
birth ? No greater calamity can befall a
man than to be debased in his own eyes;
he is thus deprived of the first of consolations ; for the most soothing of all is, that
which is found in the resources of his own
mind.
I first said to myself, replied the Paria,
Is the history of the god Brama true? It
is related by none but the Bramins, who
are interested in ascribing to themselves a
celestial origin. They have, undoubtedly,
invented the story of the Paria, who endeavoured to make Brama a cannibal, to
revenge themselves on the Parias, for
refusing to believe the reports they circulated concerning their sanctity. I reflected
farther : admitting this circumstance to be
true, God is just; he cannot involve a
whole cast in the guilt of one of its memhers, when the cast had no participation in
it. But supposing the whole cast of Parias
had been accomplices in this crime, their
descendants could not have been implicated.
God punishes not in the children the faults
of their ancestors, whom they never saw,
any more than he punishes in the forefathers the sins of their unborn descend.
ants. But farther; supposing that I am
now included in the punishment of a Paria,
guilty of perfidy against his god thousands of
years ago, without having anticipated in
that guilt, can any thing hated of God
continue to exist, and not be immediately
destroyed? If I lay under the divine malediction, nothing that I plant would thrive.
Lastly, I said to myself, Admitting that I
am hated of God, who is good to me, I
will endeavour to make myself agreeable
to him, by following his example, and
doing good to those whom I ought to
hate.
But, asked the Englishman, how did
you contrive to live, being an outcast from
the world ?-In the first place, answered
the Indian, I reasoned in this manner : If
all mankind are thine enemies, be a friend
to thyself. Thy calamity is not too heavy
for human strength. Be the rain ever so
violent, a little bird receives but a drop at
a time. 1 rambled in the woods, and on
the banks of the rivers, in quest of food,
but in general could find nothing but
some wild fruit, and was under great apprehensions from beasts of prey. Hence I
was convinced that Nature had made
scarcely any thing for man alone, and
that she had attached my existence to that
very society which had cast me out fronm
its bosom. I then repaired to the deserted
fields, which are very numerous in India,
and always found some eatable plant which
had survived the ruin of its cultivators.
In this manner I roved from province to
province, certain of finding every where a
subsistence amid the relics of agriculture.
When I found the seeds of any useful
vegetable, I sowed them, saying, If 1 reap
no benefit from them, others will. I felt
myself less wretched when I saw that I
could do some good. There was one desire
which I was anxious to gratify, that of
visiting some towns. I admired at a dis-

THE INDIAN COTTAGE.

47

ramparts and their towers, the solicitations at the gates of the palaces, for
tance their
prodigious concourse of vessels on their the offal of their banquets; and women
rivers, and caravans on their roads, laden who publicly prostituted themselves for a
with merchandise, conveyed thither from subsistence. At length I arrived at an
every point of the horizon; the troops who immense square, in the centre of which
repaired thither on duty from the remotest stands the palace of the Great Mogul. It
provinces; the processions of ambassadors was covered with the tents of the rajahs,
with their numerous retinues, arriving or nabobs of his guard, and their divisions
from foreign kingdoms, to make known distinguished from each other by torches,
fortunate events, or to conclude alliances. standards, and long canes, with tails of the
I approached as near as I might to their cows of Thibet at the top; the fortress was
avenues, contemplating with astonishment surrounded by a wide ditch full of water,
the vast columns of dust raised by so many and defended by artillery. By the light of
travellers, and I trembled with desire at the fires kindled by the guards, I contemthe confused noise proceeding from great plated the towers of the castle, which were
adjacent country lost in the clouds, and the length of the
cities, which sounds in the
like the murmuring of the waves breaking ramparts, which extended farther than the
sea-shore. I said to myself: An eye could reach. I should have liked to
on the
assemblage of men of so many different enter, but great korahs, or scourges, susconditions, uniting their industry, their pended from the posts, took away all desire
riches, and their joy, must make a city a of setting foot in the place. I stopped
most deligsiful abode. But if I am not therefore at one end of it, near some negro
admitted to approach by day, what should slaves, who permitted me to rest myself by
prevent me from entering by night ? A the fire round which they were sitting.
feeble mouse, which has so many enemies, There I viewed the imperial palace with
goes to and fro wherever he pleases under admiration, and said to myself, Here then,
cover of the darkness; he passes from the dwells the happiest of men; it is for his
hut of the beggar to the palace of the king. obedience that so many religious preach ;
The light of the stars is sufficient to enable for his glory that so many ambassadors arhim to enjoy life; why should I require rive; for his exchequer that so many prothat of the sun ? It was in the vicinity of vinces are stripped; for his pleasures that
Delhi that I made these reflections; they so many caravans travel; and for his safeemboldened me to approach the city at ty that so many armed men watch in sinight, and I entered by the gate at Lahor. lence!
I first traversed a long solitary street, lined While I was making these reflections,
on either side with houses, in front of loud shouts of joy resounded over the
which are piazzas, and under these the whole square, and I saw eight camels deshops of tradesmen. Here and there I corated with streamers pass by. I was inobserved large caravanseras securely shut formed that they were loaded with the
up, and vast bazars, or markets, where heads of rebels, sent to the Mogul by his
reigned profound silence. Advancing into generals from the province of Decan, where
the interior of the city, I came to the one of his'. ns, whom he had appointed
magnificent quarter of the Omrabs, full of governorhadj been carrying on war with
palaces and gardens, situated on the banks him for three years. Soon afterwards arof the Jumna. It rang with the sound of rived a courier on a dromedary, bringing
instruments and the songs of the bayaderes, intelligence of the loss of a frontier town
who were dancing by the river-side by of India, through the treachery of the gotorch-light. I stopped at the gate of a vernor, who had delivered it up to the
garden to enjoy such a pleasing sight, but king of Persia. Scarcely had this courier
was soon compelled to retire by the slaves, passed, when another, despatched by the
who drive away the poor with sticks. On governor of Bengal, came to announce that
leaving the quarter of the grandees, I the Europeans, to whom the emperor, for
passed by several pagodas of my religion, the benefit of commerce, had granted a facwhere a multitude of wretches were lying tory at the mouth of the Ganges, had built
prostrate on the ground, and weeping. I a fortress there, and made themselves mashastened away from these monuments of ters of the navigation of the river. A few
superstitionand of terror. Farther oin, the minutes after the arrival of these two
loud voices of the mollahs, announcing couriers, an officer came out of the palace
from aloft the hours of the night, informed at the head of a detachment of guards.
me that I was at the foot of the minarets The Mogul had ordered him to go to the
of a mosque. Near this place were the quarter of the Omrahs, and to bring three
factories of the Europeans, with their flags, of the principal of them in chains, being
and watchmen incessantly crying, Kaher- accused of a correspondence with the enetake care! I then passed a large mies of the state. He had, the night bedar .r
building, which I knew to be a prison fore, caused a Mollah to be confined, for
from the clanking of chains, and thegroans having in his sermons pronounced a panethat proceeded from it. I soon heard the gyric on the king of Persia, and declared
,ries of pain from a vast hospital, out of the emperor of India an infidel, because he
which were conveyed cart-loads of dead drank wine, in violation of the law of Mabodies. By the way I met thieves running homet. It was farther reported, that he
along the streets, and watchmen pursuing had ordered one of his wives, and two capthem; groups of beggars, who, in spite of tains of his guard to be strangled, and
the blows they received, continued their thrown into the Jumna, for being concerw.

112

446

THE INDIAN COTTAGE.

ed in the rebellion of his son. While I was
reflecting on these tragic occurrences, a
long flame of fire rose all at once from the
kitchens of the seraglio: volumes of smoke
mingled with the clouds, and its red light
illumined the towers of the fortress, its
ditches, the square, the minarets of the
mosques, and extended to the very horizon.
Large kettle-drums of copper, and the kar.
nas, or hautboys of the guard, immediately gave the alarm with a dreadful noise:
troops of cavalry spread over the city,
breaking open the doors of houses near the
palace, and.obliging the inhabitants with
stripes to hasten to extinguish the fire. I
too found how dangerous the neighbourhood of the great is to the little. The great
are like the fire which burns even those
who throw incense into it, if they approach
too near. I endeavoured to escape, but
all the avenues of the square were blocked
up. I should have found it impossible to
get away, had not the side on which I was,
providentially, been that of the seraglio.
As the eunuchs were removing the women
from it upon elephants, they facilitated my
escape; for as fast as the guards compelled
the inhabitants, with stripes, to go and ass.st at the fire, the elephants, with their
trunks, obliged them to retire. Now pursued by the one, now driven back by the
others, I at length escaped from amidst
this terrible confusion, and by the light of
the fire proceeded to the other extremity
of the suburbs, where, in their humble
cottages, far from the great, the poor rested in peace from their labours. There I
again began to take breath. I said to myself: I have at last seen a city; I have beheld the abode of the masters of nations!
Oh ! by how many masters are not they
themselves enslaved ! Even in the season
of repose, they are subservient to voluptuousness, ambition, superstition, and avarice; they have reason to fear, even in
their sleep, a multitude of wretched and
mischievous creatures by whom they are
surrounded, robbers, beggars, prostitutes,
incendiaries, and their very soldiers, priests,
and grandees. What must be the state of
this city by day, if it is so turbulent during
the night? The miseries of man increase
with his pleasures. How much then, is
the emperor, who possesses them all, to be
pitied ! He has occasion to fear civil and
foreign wars, and the very objects that constitute his consolation and his defence, his
generals, his guards, hismollahs,his wives,
and his children. The ditches of his fortress cannot ,heck the phantoms of superstition, nor can his well-trained elephants
repel gloomy cares. For my part I fear
none of all these things; no tyrant possesses any empire either over my body or
my soul. I can serve God according to
the dictates of my conscience, and have
nothing to apprehend from man, if I do
not torment myself: in truth a Paria is
less wretched than an emperor. As I uttered these words, my eyes overflowed
with tears ; and dropping upon my knees,
I returned thanks to heaven, which, to
teach me to endure my miseries, had ex.

hibited to my view others still more intolerable.
Since that time I have confined my visits
to the suburbs of Delhi; there I beheld
the stars shining upon the habitations of
men, and mingling with their fires, as if
the heavens and the city had formed one
and the same domain. When the moon
rose to illumine the scene, 1 perceived
other colours besides those of day. I admired the silvery hue of the trees,reflected
at a distance in the waters of the Jumna.
I traversed unmolested whole quarters solitary and silent, and the entire city then
seemed to be my own; and yet its inhabitants would have refused me a handful of
rice, so great was the detestation in which
religion caused me to be held ! As I could
not find a subsistence among the living, I
sought it among the dead; I repaired to
the cemeteries, to eat upon the tombs the
food offered there by the piety of relations.
Here I loved to meditate: Here, said I to
myself, is the city of peace; here neither
power nor pride can intrude ; here inno
cence and virtue are secure; hee all the
fears of life, even that of dying, are ex.
tinct; here is the inn where the weary traveller rests for ever from his fatigues, and
here the persecuted Paria reposes. With
such ideas I began to think death desira.
ble, and to despise the world. I fixed my
eyes on the sky, where multitudes of stars
were every moment bursting forth to
view. Though a stranger to these destinies. I was convinced that they were connected with those of men, and that Nature,
who has rendered so many things which
they cannot see subservient to their wants,
had assuredly connected with them such
as she had placed in their sight. My soul
then soared into the firmament among the
stars, and when Aurora had added her
rosy tints to their soft and everlasting rays,
I fancied myself at the portals of heaven.
But no sooner did her beams gild the tops
of the pagodas, than I disappeared like a
spirit; I withdrew far from men, to repose
in the fields, at the foot of some trees, where
I was lulled to sleep by the singing of birds.
Tender and unfortunate man ! exclaimed the Briton; how affecting is your narrative ! Believe me, most cities are not
worth seeing but by night. After all, Na.
ture has nocturnal beauties which are not
the least touching ; a famous poet of my
country has celebrated no others. But,
tell me, how did you contrive to make
yourself happy by day-light ?
It was a great thing, replied the Indian,
to be happy by night. Nature resembles a
beautiful woman, who by day exhibits only
the beauties of her face to the eyes of the
vulgar, hut at night reveals all her secret
charms to her lover. But if solitude has
its pleasures, it has likewise its privations;
it appears to the unfortunate a peaceful
haunt, whence he beholds, unaffected, the
impetuous current of the passion of others;
but while he is congratulating himself on
his tranquillity, time hurries him also
along. It is impossible to cast anchor in
the river of life; it carries away both the

THIE INDIAN COTTAGE.
man that struggles against its current, and
him who abandons himself to it; the wise
man as well as the fool, and both arrive at
the conclusion of their days, one after
abusing, and the other without enjoying
them. I desired not to be wiser than Na.
ture, nor to find happiness beyond the limits of the laws she has prescribed for
man. I ardently wished for a friend to
whom I might communicate my pleasures
and my pains. Such a person I long
sought among my equals, but found them
all infected with envy. I however found
one that was affectionate, grateful, faithful, untainted with prejudices : he was
not, indeed of my species; it was the dog
you there see at your feet. He had been
turned out, when quite young, into the
street, where he was near perishing of
hunger. I felt compassion for his fate; I
took care of him: he grew attached to me,
and I made him my inseparable companion. This was not sufficient : I wanted a
friend that was more wretched than a dog,
who was acquainted with all the miseries
of human life, and could assist me to bear
them; who was desirous only of the gifts
of Nature, and with whom I could enjoy
them. It is only by entwining their
branches that two feeble shrubs are ableto
resist the storm. Providence accomplished
my wishes by giving me a good wife. At
the source of my wretchedness I found
that of my felicity. One night when I was
in the cemetery of the Bramins, I perceived by the moon-light a young female
Bramin, half-covered with a yellow veil.
At the sight of a woman of the blood of
m'y tyrants, I drew back with horror; but
I approached her from compassion, when
I beheld the duty in which she was engaged. She was placing food upon a hillock
that covered the ashes of her mother, who
had recently been burned alive with the
corpse of her father, according to the custom of the east; she was burning incense
over it to call her spirit. My eyes filled
with tears, on beholding a person more
wretched than myself. Alas ! I exclaimed; I am bound by the bonds of infamy!
but thou by those of glory. At any rate I
live peacefully at the bottom of my precipice while thou totterest on the brink of
thine. The same doom which has befallen
thy mother, threatens one day to be thy
own. Thou hast received but one life, and
thou must die two deaths; if thy own
death should not bring thee to the grave,
that of thy husband will plunge thee into it
alive. I wept and she wept: our eyes,
suffused with tears, met and spoke to each
other the language of affliction; she turned from me, covered herself with her veil,
and retired. The next night I repaired to
the same place. This time she had placed
a greater quantity of food on the grave of
her mother; she judged that I wanted it,
and as the Bramins frequently poison their
funeral meats to prevent the Parias from
eating of them, she brought nothing but
fruit, that I might entertain no apprehensions of the kind. I was touched with this
token of her humanity, and to show the

49

respect I felt for her filial offering, instead
of taking her fruits, I strewed flowers over
them. These were poppies, expressive of
the part I took in her sorrows. The next
night I observed with joy that she approved
my homage; the poppies were watered,
and she had placed a fresh basket of fruit
at some distance from the grave. Comn
passion and gratitude made me bold. Not
daring to speak to her as a Paria, for fear
of exposing her to trouble, I resolved, as a
man, to express all the affections she had
excited in my soul. To make myself understood, I borrowed, according to the
custom of India, the language of the
flowers; to the poppies I added marigolds.
The next night I found my poppies and
marigolds refreshed with water. The
night following I became still bolder ;
joining with the poppies and marigolds
a flower of foulsapatte, which is used by
shoemakers to stain leather black, as the
expression of an humble and unfortunate
passion. The next morning, at the dawn
of day, I hastened to the grave; but found
the flower withered, because it had not
been watered. The succeeding night I
placed there, with trembling hand, a tulip,
whose red leaves and black heart expressed
the flames by which I was consumed: the
next day I found my tulip in the same
state as the foulsapatte. I was overwhelmed with grief; yet the second day afterward
I carried thither a rose-bud with its thorns,
as a symbol of my hopes mingled with
many fears. But what was my despair
when I beheld, by the first glimmering
of day, my rose-bud hurled far from the
grave! I thought I should have lost my
senses. I then resolved to speak to her,
let the consequences be what they would.
The following night the moment she appeared, I threw myself at her feet, but
unable to utter a word, I presented her my
rose. Unhappy man ! said she, thou
speakest to me of love, to me who shall
soon be no more. After the example of
my mother, I must accompany my husband,
who is just dead, to the funeral pile. He
was old; I was married to him when a
child. Adieu; retire and forget me; in
three days I shall be but a handful of ashes.
She said, and sighed.
Impressed with
profound sorrow, I replied : Unfortunate
Bramin, Nature has burst the bonds which
society had imposed upon you; now break
yourself those of superstition. This you
may do by accepting me for your husband.
-What ! exclaimed she, with tears, shall
I shun death to live with thee in disgracae!
Ah ! if thou lovest me, let me die!Heaven forbid, I rejoined, that I should
extricate you from your misery only to
plunge you into mine ! Beloved Bramin !
let us flee together to the recesses of the
fore :t; it is better to trust ourselves with
tigers than with men. But Heaven, in
which I confide, will not abandon us. Let
us go: love, night, thy wretchedness, thy
innocence, are all in our favour. Let us
hasten, unfortunate widow, thy funeral
pile is already preparing, and thy deceased
husbanst summons thee away! She then

50

THE INDIAN COTTAGE.

fixed her eyes with a sigh on the grave of
her mother, then turned them towards
heaven, and dropping one of her hands into
mine, took my rose with the other. I
%ookher immediately by the arm, and we
departed. 1 threw her veil into the Ganges, to make her relations believe she had
drowned herself. We continued our
course several nights along the banks of
the river, concealing ourselves by day in
the rice-fields. At length we arrived in
this country, formerly depopulated by war.
I penetrated into the recesses of this wood,
where I have built this hut, and planted a
little garden, and here we live perfectly
happy. I revere my wife as the luminary
of day, and I love her as that of night. In
this retirement we are every thing to each
other; we are despised by the world; but
as we mutually esteem each other, the
praises which I bestow, or which I receive
from her, appear more grateful than the
applause of a whole nation. So saying, he
looked at his infant in his cradle, and at
his wife, who was shedding tears of joy.
The doctor, wiping his eyes, said to his
host: In truth, what is honoured among
men is often deserving of their contempt,
and what is despised by them is often
worthy of being honoured. But God is
just! you are a thousand times more happy
in your obscurity, than the chief of the
Bramins of Jagernaut in all his glory. He
is exposed, like the rest of his cast, to all
the revolutions of fortune: on them fall
most of the calamities of the civil and
foreign wars which have for so many ages
desolated your beautiful country; 'tis they
who are required to raise forced contributions, on account of the empire they possess
over the opinion of the people. But what is
still more cruel for them, they are the first
victims of their inhuman religion. By
preaching up error, they impress it so
deeply on their own minds, that they lose
the sentiment of truth, justice, humanity,
and piety; they are bound in the chains
of superstition, with which they endeavour
to enthral their countrymen. They are
obliged to prform incessant absolutions
and purifications, and to abstain from a
great number of innocent pleasures. Finally, what cannot be said without horror,
in consequenceof theirbarbarous doctrines,
they beholdtheirrelatives, mothers, sisters,
daughters, burned alive. In this manner
they are punished by Nature, whose laws
they have violated. As for you, you may
be sincere, benevolent, just, hospitable,
pious: and you escape the strokes of fortune, and the miseries of opinion, by means
of your humiliation itself.
After this conversation, the Paria left his
guest to take his repose, and retired with
his wife, taking with him the cradle of his
child, into an adjoining room.
At day-break, the next morning, the
doctor was awaked by the singing of the
birds, which had built nests in the
branches of the Indian fig tree, and by
the voices of the Paria and his wife, who
were jointly offering their morning suppliCation. He rose, and was exceedingly

mortified when, on the Paria and his wife
opening their door to wish him good morning, he perceived that they had no other
bed in the hut than the conjugal couch,
which they had relinquished to him, and
had sat up all night themselves. After
they had saluted him, they hastened to
prepare breakfast. Meanwhile he took a
turn in the garden; he found that it was
surrounded, like the hut, with arcades of
the Indian fig tree, so thickly entwined,
as to form a hedge impervious even to the
eye. He only perceived above their foliage
the red sides of the rock, which flanked
the valley all around him; and from which
issued a little stream that watered this
garden, planted without any kind of order.
He observed mangoustans, orange-trees,
cocoa-trees, litchis, durions, manguiers,
jicquiers, bananas, and other vegetables,
in fruit or flower, growing promiscuously.
Their very trunks were covered; the
betel twined itself round the areka palm,
and the pepper climbed up the sugar-cane.
The air was enbalmed with their perfumes.
Though most of the trees were still in the
shade, the first rays of Aurora began to
tinge their tops, around which fluttered
innumerable colibris, sparkling like rubies
and topazes, while the bengali and the
sensasoule, or the bird with five hundred
voices, executed their melodious concerts
on their nests. The doctor was walking
beneath these charming shades, free from
learned and ambitious thoughts, when the
Paria came to invite him to breakfast.
Your garden is delightful, said the English.
man, the only fault I find with it is, that
it is too small. Were I in your place, I
would add a green to it, and extend it into
the forest.-Sir, replied the Paria, the less
space we occupy, the more secure we are;
a leaf is sufficient for the nest of a hum
ming bird. They entered the hut, where
they found the Paria's wife in a corner,
suckling her child. After a silent repast,
the doctor was preparing to depart, when
the Indian said to him: My guest, the
country is still inundated with the rain of
the night, the roads are impassable; stay
this day with us.-I cannot, said the
doctor, I have too many people with me.
I see, rejoined the Paria, that you are in
haste to quit the country of the Bramins,
and to return to that of the Christians,
whose religion teaches all men to live like
brethren. The doctor rose, sighing; on
which the Paria made a sign to his wife,
who, with downcast eyes, silently presented
to the doctor a basket filled with flowers
and fruits. The Paria then addressed the
Englishman in these terms:Excuseourpoverty, Sir; we have neithor
ambergris nor the wood of aloes with
which to perfume our guests, according to
the custom of India; but I hope you will
not despise this little basket, filled by the
hand of my wife. There are in it neither
poppies nor marigolds, but jatmin, mougris,
and bergamotte, which, by their perfumes,
are emblems of our affection, the remem.
brance of which shall remain when we
shall see you no more. The doctor took

THE INDIAN COTTAGE.
the basket, and said to the Paria : I cannot
make a sufficient acknowledgment for
your hospitality, or testify all the esteem I
feel for you. Accept this gold watch ; it
is the work of the most celebrated watchmaker in London.-We have no occasion
for a watch, Sir, answered the Paria ; we
have one which never stands still, and is
never out of order; I mean the sun.-My
watch strikes the hours, added the doctor.
-Our birds sing them, rejoined the Paria.
-At least, said the doctor, accept these
strings of beads, to make red necklaces for
your wife and child.-My wife and child,
answered the Indian, will never want red
necklaces as long as our garden produces
Angola peas.-Then take these pistols,
said the doctor, to defend yourselves
against robbers in your solitude.-Poverty,
said the Paria, is a rampart which protects
us from robbers; the very silver which
decorates your pistols would be sufficient
to attract them hither. In the name of
God who protects us, and from whom we
expect our reward, deprive us not of the
recompense for our hospitality !-And yet,
replied the Englishman, I should wish you
to have some token of remembrance.Well, my honoured guest, replied the Paria,
since you desire it, I will take the liberty
to propose an exchange; give me your pipe
and take mine. When I smoke in yours,
I shall call to mind that an European
Pandect once deigned to accept the hospitality of a poor Paria. The doctor immediately presented to him his pipe of English
leather, with a mouth-piece of yellow
amber, and received in return that of the
Paria, made of bamboo, with a bowl of
baked earth.
He then called his attendants, who were
in a deplorable condition after such a
dismal night; and having embraced the

Paria, he stepped into his palanquin. The
Paria's wife, who could not restrain her
tears, remained at the door of the hut,
with her child in her arms; but her husband accompanied the doctor to the extremity of the wood, loading him with
benedictions. May God reward you, said
he, for your goodness towards the unfortunate! May he conduct you in safety to
England, that land of learning and of
friendship, whose children seek the truth
over the whole world, for the happiness of
mankind !-I have traversed half the globe,
replied the doctor, and have met with
nothing but error and discord: 1 have
found truth and happiness no where but in
your cottage. At these words they parted
with mutual tears. The doctor was already
at a great distance when he still saw the
virtuous Paria at the foot of a tree,
making signs with his hands to bid him
adieu.
The doctor on his return to Calcutta,
embarked for Chadernagoer, whence he
set sail to England. On his arrival in
London, he delivered the ninety bales of
manuscripts to the president of the Royal
Society, who deposited them in the British
Museum, where the literati and journalists
are still engaged in translating, praising,
abusing, and criticising them. As for the
doctor, he kept to himself the Paria's
three answers on truth. He often smoked
on his pipe, and when he was asked, what
was the most useful information he had
acquired in his travels, he would reply,
Truth should be sought with a simple
heart: it is to be found only in Nature,
and should be communicated only to the
good. To this he would add: Happiness is
to be found no where but in the company
of a good wife.

GUJILIER'S
INTO

TRAVELS

SEVERAL

REMOTE NATIONS OF THE WORLD.
BY JONATHAN

Wita krtrJ

SWIFT, D.D..

If

!'iv

fJifr.

CONTENTS.

Page
Page
. vii Chap. 6. Of the inhabitants of Lilliput;
.
of
SKETCH the Life of Swift
.
. ix
their learning, laws, and customs;
Preface to Gulliver's Travels
x
the manner of educating their chilThe Publisher to the Reader
dren. The Author's way of living
A Letter from Captain Gulliver to his
in that country. His vindication of
xi
.
.
Cousin Sympson
. I5
a great lady
Chap.7. The Author, being informed
PART I.
of a aesign to accuse him of high.
treason, makes his escapeto Blcfuscu.
A VOYAGE TO LILLIPUT.
His reception there

Chap. 1. The Author gives some account of himself and family; his
first inducements to travel. He is
shipwrecked, and swims for his life ;
gets safe on shore in the country of
Lilliput ; is made a prisoner, and
.
.
carried up the country
Chap. 2. The Emperor of Lilliput, attended by several of the nobility,
comes to see the Author in his confinement. The Emperor's person
and habit described. Learned men
appointed to teach the Author their
language. He gains favour by his
mild disposition. His pockets are
searched, and his sword and pistols
taken from him

.

Chap. 3. The Author diverts the Emperor, and his nobility of both sexes,
in a very uncommon manner. The
diversions of the court of Lilliput
described. The Author has his
liberty granted him upon certain
conditions .

.

.

19

The
S. Author, by a lucky acciChap.
dent finds means to leave Blefuscu ;
and, after some difficulties, returns
. 22
.
safe to his native country
PART II.

1.

A VOYAGE TO BROBDINGNAG.

5

Chap. 1. A great storm described; the
long.boat sent to fetch water; the
Author goes with it to discover the
country. He is left on shore, is
seized by one of the natives, and
carried to a farmer's house. His
reception, with several accidents
that happened there. A description
of the inhabitants

.

.

.

Chap. 2. A description of the farmer's
daughter. The Author carried to a
market-town, and then to the metropolis. The particulars of his jour8

ney.

.....

25

2J

Chap. 4. Mildendo, the metropolis of
Chap. 3. The Author sent for to court.
The Queen buys him of his master
Lilliput, described, together with
the farmer, and presents him to the
the Emperor's palace. A conversaKing. He disputes with his majesty's
tion between the Author and a pringreat scholars. An apartment at
the affairs
cipal secretary, concerning
court provided for the Author. He
of that empire. The Author's offers
is in high favour with the Queen.
to serve the Emperor in his wars . 11
He stands up for the honour of his
Chap. 5. The Author, by an extraorown country. His quarrels with the
dinary stratagem, prevents an in31
.....
.
Queen's dwarf
is
vasion. A high title of honour
Chap. 4. The country described. A
conferred upon him. Ambassadors
proposal for correcting modern maps.
the Emperor of Blefuscu,
arrive from
The King's palace, and some account
and sue for peace. The Emperor's
of the metropolis. The Author's
apartments on fire by accident; the
way of travelling. The chief temple
Author instrumental in saving the
......
described . .
. 13
.
.
rest of the palace

CONTENTS.

iv

Page
Chap. 5. Several adventures that happened to the Author. The execution of a criminal. The Author
shows his skill in navigation .
. 37
Chap. 6. Several contrivances of the
Author to please the King and
Queen. He shows his skill in music.
The King inquires into the state of
England, which the Author relates
to him. The King's observations
thereon
40
Chap. 7. The Author's love of his
country. He makes a proposal of
much advantage to the King, which
is rejected. The King's great ignorance in politics. The learning of
that country very imperfect and confined. The laws and military affairs,
44
and parties in the state
Chap. 8. The King and Queen make
a progress to the frontiers. The
Author attends them. The manner
in which he leaves the country very
particularly related. He returns to
England
6
PART III.

some eminent persons upon that
subject.
70
Chap. 11. The Author leaves Luggnagg, and sails to Japan. From
thence he returns in a Dutch ship to
Amsterdam, and from Amsterdam
.....
73
to England
..
PART IV.
A VOYAGE TO THE COUNTRY OF
THE HOUYHNHNMS.
Chap. 1. The Author sets out as captain of ahim, confine men conspire
ship. His him a long
against
time to his cabin, and set him on
shore in an unknown land. He
travels up into the country. The
Yahoos, a strange sort of animal,
described. The Author meets two

VOYAGE TO LAPUTA, BALNIBARBI,
LUGGNAGG, GLUBBDUBDRIB, AND
JAPAN.
Chap. 1. The Author sets out.on his
third voyage. Is taken by pirates.
The malice of a Dutchman. His
arrival at an island. He is received
into Laputa
Chap. 2. The humours and dispositions of the Laputians described.
An account of their learning. Of
the king and his court. The Author's reception there. The inhabitants subject to fear and disquietudes. An account of the women.
Chap. 3. A phenomenon solved by mo.
dern philosophy and astronomy.
The Laputians' great improvements
in the latter. The King's method
.
of suppressing insurrections
Chap. 4. The Author leaves Laputa;
is conveyed to Balnibarbi; arrives
at the metropolis. A description of
the metropolis, and the country adjoining. The Author hospitably received by a great Lord. His conversation with that Lord
Chap. 5. The Author permitted to see
the grand academy of Lagado. The
academy largely described. The
arts wherein the professors employ
themselves
Chap. 6. A further account of the academy. The Author proposes some
improvements, which are honourably received
Chap. 7. The Author leaves Lagado,
arrives at Maldonada. No ship
ready. He takes a short voyage to
Glubhdubdrib. His reception by
the governor

Page
Chap. 8. A further account of Glubbdubdrib. Ancient and modern his.tory corrected
.
.
.
.
66
Chap. 9. The Author returns to Maldonada. Sails to the kingdom of
Luggnagg. The Author confined.
le is sent for to court. The manner
of his admittance. The King's great
.
68
lenity to his subjects
Chap. 10. The Luggnaggians commended. A particular description
of the Struldbrugs, with Author con.
versations between the many and

Houyhnhnms

51

53

56

58

60

63

65

.

Chap. 2. The Author conducted by a
Houyhnhnm to his house. The
house described. The Author's reception. The food of the Houyhnhnms. The Author in distress
for want of meat. Is at last relieved. His manner of feeding in this
country
Chap. 3. The Author studies to learn
the language. The Houyhnhnm,
his master, assists in teaching him.
The language described. Several
Houyhnhnms of quality come out of
curiosity to see the Author. He
gives his master a short account of
his voyage
Chap.4. The Houyhnhnm's notion of
truth and falsehood. The Author's
discourse disapproved by his master.
The Author gives a more particular
account of himself, and the acci.
dents of his voyage
.
.
Chap. 5. The Author, at his master's
command, informs him of the state
of England. The causes of war
among the princes of Europe. The
Author begins to explain the English constitution
Chap. 6. A continuation of the state of
England under Queen Anne. The
character of a first minister of state
in European courts
Chap. 7. The Author's great love of
his native country. His master's observations upon the constitution and

Llrll

CONTEN2 S.
Page
P ge
administration of England, as decanoe by the help of a fellow-serscribed by the Author, with paral! vant, and puts to sea at a venture
95
lel cases and comparisons. His masChap. 11. The Author's dangerous voy.
ter's observations upon human naage. He arrives at New Holland,
ture. .
.
..
.
..
89
hoping to settle there. Is wounded
Chap. 8. The Author relates several
with an arrow by one of the natives.
particulars of the Yahoos. The
Is seized and carried by force into a
great virtues of the Houyhnhnms.
Portuguese ship. The great civiliThe education and exercise of their
ties of the captain. The Author aryouth. Their general assembly .
91
rives at England
.
98
Chap. 9. A grand debate at the gene.
Chap. 12. The Author's veracity. His
ral assembly of the Houyhnhnms,
design in publishing this work. His
and how it was determined. The
censure of those travellers who
learning of the Houyhnhnms. Their
swerve from the truth. The Aubuildings. Their manner of buri.
thor clears himself from any sinister
als. The defectiveness of their lanends in writing. An objection anguage.
..
..
93
swered. The method of planting
Chap. 10. The Author's economy, and
colonies. His native country comhappy life, among the Houyhnhnms.
mended. The right of the crown to
His great improvement in virtue by
those countries described by the Auconversing with them. Their conthor, is justified. The difficulty of
versations. The Author has notice
conquering them. The Author takes
given him by his master, that he
his last leave of the reader; promust depart from the country. He
poses his manner of living in fufalls into a swoon for grief; but subtare; gives good advice, and conmits. He contrives and finishes a
eludes .
.
.
.
.
. 101

SKETCH OF THE LIFE
OF

DR. JONATHAN SWIFT.

Teis very ingenious and extraordinary
man was born on the 30th of November,
1667, in Hoey's court, Dublin. He was
descended from an ancient family in
Yorkshire. His father (the son to the Rev.
Thomas Swift, whose fortune was lost in
the civil wars by his adherence to Charles
I.) went to Ireland in pursuit of employment- where he died about two years after
his marriage to a Leicestershire lady, and
seven months before the birth of his only
son, who became the celebrated Dean of St.
Patrick's.
When young Swift was but a year old,
he was carried away by his nurse, without
the knowledge of his mother, to Whitehaven, where the woman kept him nearly
three years, tending him with great
affection, and teaching him to read. On
his being recovered and brought back to
Ireland, he was sent to the school of Kilkenny, and in his fourteenth year to
Trinity College, Dublin. Here his course
of study was so desultory and irregular,
that on application for his first degree, he
was set aside for insufficiency, and at last
was permitted to take it specialigratia, a
kind of disgraceful indulgence, which he
immediately resolved to efface, by a severe
and regular application for nearly seven
years to the requisite sciences.
Dunng
this time it is allowed that he made a
proficiency answerable to his future fame.
In 1688 he went to England to see his
mother, who was now settled at Leicester,
and was introduced to Sir William Temple,
who behaved to him with great kindness,
and afforded him opportunities of frequently seeing King William, whose notions
being entirely military, he offered to make
Swift a captain of horse. Our author,
however, preferring the church, was admitted to his master's degree at Oxford, in
1692, and took orders. His hopes of promotion, from the interest of Sir William
Temple, not being so soon gratified, as he
thought he had reason to expect, a quarrel
took place about the year 1694, and they
parted probably with mutual dissatisfaction. There was, however, enough of
respect or friendship left to promote a

reconciliation, which took place soon after,
and in the mean time Swift obtained the
prebend of Kilroot, in the diocese of Connor, worth about £100 a year, and on
Sir William Temple's death, in 1700, he
received a legacy from him, and the copyright of his posthumous works, which he
published with a short life.
Soon after the loss of Sir William, he
went as secretary and chaplain to Lord
Berkeley, one of the lords justices of Ireland. From this new patron he was induced to hope for the deanery of Derry,
but it was given to another, and Swift was
obliged to be content with the livings of
Laracor and Rathbeggin. At Laracor he
fixed his residence, and this place became
remarkable for his acquaintance with Miss
Johnson, the daughter of the steward of
Sir William Temple, but afterwards better
known by the name of Stella. She and her
friend Mrs. Dingley lived here in the closest
intimacy with Swift, but guardedly, and
without reproach; in his absence they
resided at the parsonage-house, and on his
return they went to other lodgings. The
affection which subsisted between Swift
and Stella appears to have been warm and
sincere, and on the part of the lady, at least
irrevocable. Why it did not terminate in
marriage is a question which none of his
biographers have been able to solve in a
satisfactory manner.
In 1701, having taken his doctor's degree,
he began to pay frequent visits to England,
and associated with political characters in
hopes of rising by their interest, and re.
paying their favours by the strength of his
judgment and the vigour of his pen. He
became accordingly acquainted with Harley
and other eminent public men, and certainly was trusted and consulted by them
in such a manner, and with so little reserve, as to show they had the highest
opinion of his talents. But, notwithstanding this, he received no preferment until
the year 1713, when he was made Dean of
St. Patrick's; and after the death of Queen
Anne, his connection with the English
ministers in a great measure ceased.
However disappointed in his English

viii

SKETCH OF THE LIFE OF SWIFT.

connexions, an unexpected incident afford.
ed him the means of rising to an uncommon degree of popularity in Ireland. One
Wood had obtained a patent to coin copper
money for the use of that country, a
measure which Dean Swift considered as
ruinous to the working people, and repre.
sented the mischiefs likely to arise from it
in a series of letters signed the Drapier.
In consequence of this the scheme failed,
the dean was hailed as the saviour of his
country, and became such a favourite
oracle, that nothing could be undertaken
in Ireland without consulting him.
Amidst all this popularity, however, he
was fast becoming an object rather of
sympathy than envy. In 1736 he lost his
memory, and this was accompanied with
an irascibility of temper, soured by frequent disappointments, and exasperated by
disease, and he gradually sunk into a state
which rendered conversation and society
no longer possible. In this deplorable
state, with few intervals of sanity, he
lingered till the year 1745, when he was
happily released in the month of October,
and in his 78th year.
His works occupied a considerable part
of his vigorous days : most of them were
published without his name, and since his
death they have been augmented by the
discovery of his letters and miscellaneous
pieces, first collected and edited by Dr.
Hawkesworth, afterwardsby Mr. Sheridan,
and since in two valuable and correct
editions by Mr. Nichols. They consist of
an uncommon variety of political, poetical,
religious, critical, and miscellaneous pieces,
written upon the whole in an elegant style,
and with such facility of pen, and such
apposite and judicious reflections, interspersed with wonderful humour, as has
justly procured him the character of one of
the first writers of his age. His humour
indeed appears to have been inexhaustible,
there being scarcely any species of wit of
which he has not left many examples; and
as a coi respondent, he probably was never
excelled for elegance, vivacity, and original
turns of thought.
Among his many productions, none has
been received with so much avidity as that
now before the reader. It was first published in 1727; "a production," says Dr.
Johnsons " so new and strange, that it

filled the reader with a mingled emotion
of merriment and amazement. It was
received with such avidity, that the price
of the first edition was raised before the
second could be made: it was read by the
high and the low, the learned and illiter.
ate. Criticism was for a while lost in
wonder; no rules of judgment were applied to a book written in open defiance of
truth. and regularity."
Notwithstanding the obvious intention
of the author, which was to ridicule am.
bition, false politics, and the general follies
of nations and individuals, when it was
first published, the vulgar, who seldom
enter very heartily into the nature of
satire, took it up as a book of travels. Dr.
Arbuthnot informs us, that Lord Scarbo.
rough fell in company with a master of a
ship, who told him that he was very well ac.
quainted with Gulliver, but that the print..
er had mistaken; that he lived in Wapping,
and not at Rotherhithe; and the Doctor
himself lent the book to an old gentleman,
who went immediately to his map to search
for Lilliput !
The only serious objection that has been
made to this work as a legitimate satire,
respects the fourth part, or The Voyage to
the Houyhnhnms. It has been represented
as a design to depreciate human nature, to
fill the mind with misanthropy, and to
injure virtue and the social qualities, by
rendering a man dissatisfied, suspicious,
and crafty. How far, however, these consequences have followed, or are likely to
follow, has never been ascertained. The
question has been ably argued by Mr.
Sheridan in his very copious Life of Swift,
and perhaps the decision will always be
made according to the peculiar temper and
feelings of him who enters into the controversy. In one respect, indeed, all may be
allowed to blame this part, as being far
more extravagant than the others, and
presenting images more gross and indelicate than just satire requires. Although,
therefore, it may be read without injury,
it is probable that it is seldom read without
some portion of disgust, while the other
voyages afford a mixture of instruction
and entertainment, which has not been
equalled by any work of the kind inany
language.

PREFACE.

THsE
first part of these Travels appeared in
1726; the second early in 1727. Bishop
Atterbury, in a letter from Paris to Mr.
Morice, December 24, 1726, having seen
the work advertised, expresses his impatience to see it:-' I shall long,' he says,
'till it is with me;' and March 31, 1727,
adds, ' I had the first part of Gulliver,
but not the second; however, it has been
sent me here, and I have had the pleasure
of reading it. Both parts are translating
here, though the French will not be able
to relish the humour of that piece, nor
understand the meaning of it.'--The bishop
was perfectly right. Neither Gulliver nor
John Bull can properly be either relished
or understood by our volatile neighbours.
Gulliver, however, was immediately trans.
lated by the Abbe Des Fontaines, and had
an extensive sale.*
S"These voyages are considered as a
mere political romance,-to correct Vice,
by showing its deformity in opposition to
Virtue, and to amend the false system of
philosophy, by pointing out the errors, and
applying salutary means to amend them."
Orrery.

to Lilliput and Brobdingnag arises one
general remark, which, however obvious,
has been overlooked by those who consider
them as little more than the sport of a
wanton imagination. When human actions
are ascribed to pigmies and giants, there
are few that do not excite either contempt,
disgust, or horror; to ascribe them therefore to such beings, was perhaps the most
probable method of engaging the mind to
examine them with attention, and judge
of them with impartiality, by suspending
the fascination of habit, and exhibiting
familiar objects in a new light. The use
of the fable then is not less apparent than
important and extensive; and that this
use was intended by the author, can be
doubted only by those who are disposed to
affirm, that order and regularity are the
effects of chance.
"To mortify pride, which indeed was
not made for man, and produces not only
the most ridiculous follies, but the most
extensive calamity, appears to have been
one general view of the author in every
part of these Travels. Personal strength
and beauty, the wisdom and the virtue of
mankind, become objects not of pride but
"This important year (1727) gent into of humility, in the diminutive stature
the world ' Gulliver's Travels,' a .gwrucand contemptible weakness of the Lillip
tion so rew and so strange, that it ft~ed tians, in the horrid deformity of the Brob.
the reader with a mingled emoti.,n of dingnagians, in the learned folly of the
merriment and amazement. It was re- Laputians, and in the parallel drawn be
ceived with such avidity, that the price of tween our manners and those of the
the first edition was raised before the second
ouyhnhnms."
Hawkesworth.
could be made; it was read by the high
and the low, the learned and illiterate.
"The Lilliputians of Swift may pass for
Criticism was for a while lost in wonder, probable beings, not so much because we
No rules of judgment were applied to a know that a belief in pigmies was once
book written in open defiance of truth and current in the world (for the true ancient
regularity. But when distinctions came to pigmy was at least thrice as tall as those
be made, the part which gaveleast pleasure whom Gulliver visited), but because we
was that which describes the Flying Island, find that every circumstance relating to
and that which gave most disgust must be them accords with itself, and their supthe history of the Houyhnhnms. While posed character. It is not the size of the
Swift was enjoying the reputation of his people only that is diminutive; their
new work, the news of the king's death country, seas, ships, and towns are all in
arrived, and he kissed the hands of the new exact proportion: their theological and
king and queen three days after their political principles, their passions, manners,
accession."
Johnson.
customs, and all the parts of their conduct,
betray a levity and littleness perfectly
"' Gulliver's Travels' and the ' Tale of suitable: and so simple is the whole
a Tub' are indisputably the two most capi-. narration, and apparently so artless and
tal works of Swift."
Warton.
sincere, that I should not wonder if it had
imposed (as I have been told it has) upon
"From the whole of those two voyages some persons of no contemptible under.
standing. And some degree of credit may,
SSee a correspondence on this translation, be.
tween the Abbd and the Dean, i July and August
17"7,in eol xi.-N.

perhaps for the same reason, be due to the
giants.

" When Swift grounds his narrative
0

X

THE PUBLISHER TO THE READER.

upon a contradiction to nature; when he
presents us with rational brutes, and
irrational men; when he tells us of horses
building houses for habitation, milking
cows for food, riding in carriages, and
holding conversations on the laws and
policies of Europe; not all his genius (and
he there exerts it to the utmost) is able to

reconcile us to so monstrous a fiction: we
may smile at some of his absurd exaggera.
tions; we may be pleased with the energy
of style, and accuracy of description, in
particular places; and a malevolent heart
may triumph in the satire ; but we can
never relish it as a fable, because it is at
once unnatural and self-contradictory."
Beattie-

THE PUBLISHER TO THE READER.

Ts author of these Travels, Mr. Lemuel
Gulliver, is my ancient and intimate friend;
there is likewise some relation between us
on the mother's side. About three years
ago, Mr. Gulliver growing weary of the
concourse of curious people coming to him
at his house in Redriff, made a small purchase of land, with a convenient house,
near Newark, in Nottinghamshire, his
native country; where he now lives retired, yet in good esteem among his neighbours.
Although Mr. Gulliver was born in
Nottinghamshire, where his father dwelt,
yet I have heard him say his family came
from Oxfordshire; to confirm which, I
have observed in the church-yard at Banbury in that county, several tombs and
monuments of the Gullivers.
Before he quitted Redriff, he left the
custody of the followingpapers in my hands,
with the liberty to dispose of them as I
should think fit. I have carefully perused
them three times; the style is very plain
and simple; and the only fault I findis, that
the author, after the manner of travellers,
is a little too circumstantiaL There is an
air of truth apparent through the whole;
and indeed the author was so distinguished
for his veracity, that it became a sort of
proverb among his neighbours at Redrif, when any one affirmed a thing, to
say, 'it was as true as if Mr. Gulliver had
spoken it.'

By the advice of several worthy persons,
to whom, with the author's permission, I
communicated these papers, I now yenture to send them into the world, hoping
they may be, at least for some time, a
better entertainment to our young noblemen, than the common scribbles of politics
and party.
This volume would have been at least
twice as large, if I had not made bold to
strike out innumerable passages relating
to the winds and tides, as well as to the
variations and bearings in the several
voyages, together with the minute descriptions of the management of the ship in
storms, in the style of sailors; likewise
the account of longitudes and latitudes;
wherein I have reason to apprehend, that
Mr. Gulliver may be a little dissatisfied :
but I was resolved to fit the work as much
as possible to the general capacity of
readers. However, if my own ignorance
have led me to commit
in sea affairs shall
some mistakes, I alone am answerable for
them: and if any traveller has a curiosity
to see the whole work at large, as it came
from the hands of the author, I will be
ready to gratify him.
As for any further particulars relating
to the author, the reader will receive
satisfaction from the first pages of the
book.
' RICHARD SYMPSON.

A LETTER
FROM CAPTAIN GULLIVER TO HIS COUSIN SYMPSOI

WRITTEN IN THE YEAR

I BOPE you will be ready to own publicly,
whenever you shall be called to it, that
by your great and frequent urgency you
prevailed on me to publish a very loose
and uncorrect account of my travels, with
directions to hire some young gentleman
of either university to put them in order,
and correct the style, as my cousin Dampier did, by my advice, in his book called
A Voyage round the world.' But I do
not remember I gave you power to consent
that any thing should be omitted, and
much less that any thing should be
inserted: therefore, as to the latter, I
do here renounce every thing of that kind;
particularly a paragraph about her majesty
Queen Anne of most pious and glorious
memory; although I did reverence and
esteem her more than any of human
species. But you, or your interpolator,
ought to have considered, that it was not
my inclination, so was it not decent to
praise any animal of our composition
before my master HouyWhnnm: And besides, the fact was altogether false; for to
my knowledge, being in England during
some part of her majesty's reign, she did
govern by a chief minister; nay even by
two successively, the first whereof was the
lord of Godolphin, and the second the lord
of Oxford; so that you have made me say
the thing that was not. Likewise in the
account of the academy of projectors, and
several _passages of my discourse to my
master Houhnhnm, you have either omit.
tedsomematerialcircumstances, or minced
or changed them in such a manner, that 1
do hardly know my own work. When I
formerly hinted to you something of this
in a letter, you were pleased to answer,
' That you were afraid of giving offence ;
that people in power wera very watchful
ever the press, and apt not only to interpret, but to punish every thing which
looked like an inuendo' (as I think you
call it). But, pray how could that which
I spoke so many years ago, and at about
five thousand leagues distance, in another
reign, be applied to any of the Yahoos,
who now are said to govern the herd ;
especially at a time when I little thought,
or feared, the.unhappiness of living under

1727.

?

them
Have not I the most reason to
complain, when I see these very Yahle
carried by Houyhnhnms in a vehicle, as i1
they were brutes, and those the rationa
creatures ? And indeed to avoid so monstrous and detestable a sight was one
principal motive of my retirement hither.
Thus much I thought proper to tell you
in relation to yourself, and to the trust I
reposed in the next place complain of mk
I do in you.
own great want of judgment, in being
prevailed upon by the entreaties and false
reasoning of you and some others, very
much against my own opinion, to suffer my
travels to be published. Pray bring to
your mind how often I desired you to
consider, when you insisted on the motive
of public good, that the Yahoos were a
species of animals utterly incapable of
amendment by precepts or example: andso
it has proved; for, instead of seeing a full
stop put to all abuses and corruptions, at
least in this little island, as I had reason
to expect; behold, after above six months
warning, I cannot learn that my book has
produced one single effect according to my
intentions. I desired you would let me
know, by a letter, when party and faction
were extinguished; judges learned and
upright; pleaders honest and modest, with
some tincture of common sense, and
Smithfield blazing with pyramids of law
books; the young nobility's education en.
tirely changed; the physicians banished;
the female Yahoos abounding in virtue,
honour, truth, and good sense; courts
and levees of great ministers thoroughly
weeded and swept; wit, merit, and learning
rewarded; all disgracers of the press in
prose and verse condemned to eat nothing
but their own cotton, and quench their
thirst with their own ink. These, and a
thousand other reformations, I firmly
counted upon by your encouragement;
as indeed they were plainly deducible from
the precepts delivered in my book. And
it must be owned, that seven months were
a sufficient time to correct every vice and
folly to which Yahoos are subject, if their
natures had been capable of the least
disposition to virtue or wisdom, Yet, so

o2

xii

A LETTER.

far have you been from answering my
expectation in any of your letters; that on
the contrary you are loading our carrier
every week with libels, and keys, and
reflections, and memoirs, and second parts;
wherein I see myself accused of reflecting
upon great state folks ; of degrading human
nature (for so they have still the confidence
tostyle it), and of abusing the female sex.
I find likewise that the writers of those
bundles are not agreed among themselves;
for some of them will not allow me to be
of my own travels; and others
the a
make me author of books, to which I am
wholly a stranger.
I find likewise that yourprinter has been
so careless as to confound the times, and
mistake the dates, of my several voyages
and returns; neither assigning the true
year, nor the true month, nor day of the
month :* and 1 hear the original manuscript is all destroyed since the publication
of my book; neither have I any copy left;
however, I have sent you some cortections,
which you may insert, if ever there should
be second edition: and yet I cannot stand
to them; but shall leave that matter to my
judicious and candid readers to adjust it as
they please.
I hear some of our sea Yahoos find fault
with my sea-language, as not proper in
many parts, nor now in use. I cannot
help it. In my first voyages, while I was
young, I was instructed by the oldest mariners, and learned to speak as they did.
But I have since found that the sea Yahoos
are apt, like the land ones, to become new.
fangled in their words, which the latter
change every year; insomuch, as I remember upon each return to my own
country their old dialect was so altered,
that I could hardly understand the new.
And 1 observe, when any Yahoos come
from London out of curiosity to visit me
That the original copy of these Travels was
altered by the person through whose hands it was
conveyed to the press, is a fact; but the passages
of which Mr. Gulliver complains in this letter are
to be found only in the first editions ; for the Dean
having restored the text wherever it had been al.
tered, sent the copy to the late Mr. Motte by the
hands of Mr. Charles Ford. This copy has been
exactly followed in every subsequent edition, except
that printed in Ireland by Mr. Faulkner ; the
editor of which, supposing the Dean to be serious
when he mentioned the corruptions of dates, and
_et finding them unaltered, thought fit to alter
them himself; there is however scarce one of these
alterations in which he has not committed a blon.
der : enough while he was thus busy in defacing
the parts that were perfect, he suered the accidental blemishes of others to remain. &i

at my house, we neither of us are able to
deliver our conceptions in a manner intelligible to the other.
If the censure of the Yahoos could any
way affect me, I should have great reason
to complain, that some of them are so bold
as to think my book of travels a mere
fiction out of mine own brain; and have
gone so far as to drop hints, that the
Houyhnhnms and Yahoos have no more
existence than the inhabitants of Utopia.
Indeed I must confess, that as to the
people of Lilliput, Brobdingrag,(for so the
word should have been spelt, and not er.
roneously Brobdingnag) and Laputa, I
have never yet heard of any Yahoo so presumptuous as to dispute their being, or the
facts I have related concerning them;
because the truth immediately strikes
every reader with conviction. And is
there less probability in my account of the
Houyhnhnms or Yahoos, when it is manifest
as to the latter, there are so many thou.
sands even in this country, who only differ
from their brother brutes in Houyhnknm.
land, because they use a sort of jabber, and
do not go naked? I wrote for their amend.
ment, and not their approbation. The
united praise of the whole race would be
of less consequence to me, than the neigh.
ing of those two degenerate Houynhhnms
I keep in my stable; because from these
degenerate as they are, I still improve in
some virtues without any mixture of vice.
Do these miserable animals presume to
think, that I am so degenerated as to
defend my veracity? Yahoo as I am, it is
well known through all Houyhnhnm-land,
that, by the instructions and example of
my illustrious master, I was able in the
compass of two years (although 1 confess
with the utmost difficulty) to remove that
infernal habit of lying, shuffling, deceiving,
and equivocating, so deeply rooted in the
very souls of all my species; especially the
Europeans.
I have other complaints to make upon
this vexatious occasion ; but I forbear
troubling myself or you any further. 1
must freely confess, that since my last,
some corruptions of my Yahoo nature have
revived in me by conversing with a few of
your species, and particularly those of my
own family, by an unavoidable necessity ;
else I should never have attempted so
absurd a project as that of reforming the
Yahoo race in this kingdom : But I have
now done with all such visionary schemes
for ever.

A

VOYAGE TO LILLIPUT.

PART I.

me, and by him I was recommended to
several patients. I took part of a small
house in the Old Jewry; and being
advised to alter my condition, I married
Mrs. Mary Burton, second daughter tQ
Mr. Edmund Burton, hosier, in Newgatestreet, with whom I received four hundred
pounds for a portion.
But my good master Bates dying in two
years after, and I having few friends, my
MY father had a small estate in Notting- business began to fail ; for my conscience
hamshire; I was the third of five sons. would not suffer me to imitate the bad
ractice of too many among my brethren.
He sent me to Emanuel College in Camaving therefore consulted with my wife,
bridge, at fourteen years old, where I
resided three years, and applied myself and some of my acquaintance, I determined
close to my studies; but the charge of to go again to sea. I was surgeon sucmaintaining me, although I had a very cessively in two ships, and made several
scanty allowance, being too great for a voyages, for six years, to the East and
narrow fortune, I was bound apprentice to West Indies, by which I got some adMr. James Bates, an eminent surgeon in dition to my fortune. My hours of leisure
London, with whom 1 continued four I spent in reading the best authors,
years; and my father now and then send- ancient and modern, being always proing me small sums of money, I laid them vided with a good number of books ; and
out in learning navigation, and other parts when I was ashore, in observing the manof the mathematics, useful to those who ners and dispositions of the people, as well
intend to travel, as I always believed it as learning their language; wherein I had
would be, some time or other, my fortune a great facility, by the strength of my
to do. When I left Mr. Bates, I went memory.
The last of these voyages not proving
down to my father; where, by the assistance of him and my uncle John, and very fortunate, I grew weary of the sea,
Qome other relations, I got forty pounds, and intended to stay at home with my wife
and a promise of thirty pounds a year to and family. I removed from the Old
maintain me at Leyden: there I studied Jewry to Fetter-Lane, and from thence to
physic two years and seven months, Wapping, hoping to get business among
knowing it would be useful in long the sailors, but it would not turn to acvoyages.
count. After three years' expectation
Soon after my return from Leyden, I that things would mend, I accepted an
was recommended by my good master, Mr. advantageous offer from Captain William
Bates, to be surgeon to the Swallow, Prichard, master of the Antelope, who
Captain Abraham Pannel, commander ; was making a voyage to the South Sea.
with whom I continued three years and a We set sail from Bristol, May 4, 1699,
half, making a voyage or two into the and our voyage was at first very prosLevant, and some other parts. When 1I perous.
came back I resolved to settle in London ;
It would not be proper, for sene reasons,
to which Mr Bates, my master, encouraged to trouble the reader with the particular
CHAPTER I.

The Autlhor gives some account of himself
andfamily : hisfirst inducements totravel.
He -sshipwnurecked, swims for his life;
and
gets safe on shore in the country of Lilliput; is made a prisoner, and carried up
the country.

2

GULLIVER'S TRAVELS.

of our adventures in those seas; let it hands, and a quiver at his back. In the
suffice to inform him, that in our passage mean time, I felt at least forty more of
from thence to the East-Indies, we were the same kind (as I conjectured) following
driven by a violent storm to the north-west the first. I was in the utmost astonishof Van Diemen's Land. By an observa, ment, and roared so loud, that they all
tion, we found ourselves in the latitude of ran back in a fright; and some of them,
30 degrees 2 minutes south. Twelve of as I was afterwards told, were hurt with the
our crew were dead by immoderate falls they got by leaping from my sides
upon the ground. However, they soon
labour and ill food; the rest were in
very weak condition. On the 5th of No- returned, and one of them, who ventured
vember, which was the beginning of sum- so far as to get a full sight of my face,
mer in those parts, the weather being very lifting up his hands and eyes by way of
hazy, the seamen spied a rock within half admiration, cried out in a shrill but
a cable's length of the ship; but the wind distinct voice, hekinals degul: the others
was so strong, that we were driven directly repeated the same woids several times,
upon it, and immediately split. Six of the but I then knew not what they meant. I
crew, of whom I was one, having let down Ilay all this while, as the reader may
the boat into the sea, made a shift to get !believe, in great uneasiness; at length,
clear of the ship and the rock. We rowed, struggling to get loose, 1 had the fortune
by my computation, about three leagues, ito break the strings, and wrench out the
till we were able to work no longer, being pegs that fastened my left arm to the
already spent with labour while we were in ground; for, by lifting it up to my face, I
the ship. We therefore trusted ourselves Idiscovered the methods they had taken to
to the mercy of the waves, and in about bind me, and at the same time with a
half an hour the boat was overset by a violent pull, which gave me excessive
sudden flurry from the north. What pain, I a little loosened the strings that
became of my companions in the boat, as tied down my hair on the left side, so
well as of those who escaped on the rock, that I was just able to turn my head about
or were left in the vessel, I cannot tell ; two inches. But the creatures ran off a
but conclude they were all lost. For my second time, before I could seize them;
own part, I swam as fortune directed me, whereupon there was a great shout in a
and was pushed forward by wind and tide. very shrill accent, and after it ceased I
I often let my legs drop, and could feel no 'heard one of them cry aloud tolgo pubsac;
bottom; but when I was almost gone, and when in an instant I felt above a hundred
able to struggle no longer, I found myself arrows discharged on my left hand, which
within my depth; and by this time the pricked me like so many needles; and
storm was much abated. The declivity besides, they shot another flight into the
was so small, that I walked near a mile air, as we do bombs in Europe, whereof
before I got to the shore, which I conjec- many, I suppose, fell on my body, (though
tured was about eight o'clock in the I felt them not) and some on my face,
evening. I then advanced forward near which I immediately covered with my left
half a mile, but could not discover any hand. When this shower of arrows was
sign of houses or inhabitants; at least I over, I fella groaning with grief and pain,
was in so weak a condition, that I did not and then striving again to get loose, they
observe them. I was extremely tired, and discharged another volley larger than the
with that, and the heat of the weather, first, and some of them attempted with
and about half a pint of brandy that I spears to stick me in the sides; but by
drank as I left the ship, I found myself good luck I had on a buff jerkin, which
much inclined to sleep. I lay down on the they could not pierce. I thought it the
grass, which was very short and soft, most prudent method to lie still, and my
where I slept sounder than ever I remem- design was to continue so till night, when,
bered to have done in my life, and, as I my left hand being already loose, I could
reckoned, about nine hours; for when I easily free myself: and as for the inhabiawaked, it was just day-light. I attempted tants, I had reason to believe I might be a
to rise, but was not able to stir : for as I match for the greatest, army they could
happened to lie on my back, I found my bring against me, if they were all of the
arms and legs were strongly fastened on same size with him that I saw. But foreach side to the ground; and my hair, tune disposed otherwise of me. When the
which was long and thick, tied down in people observed I was quiet, they disthe same manner. I likewise felt several charged no more arrows; but, by the
slender ligatutes across my body, from my noise I heard, I knew their numbers inarm-pits to my thighs. I could only look creased; and about four yards from me,
upwards, the sun began to grow hot, and over against my right ear, I heard a
the light offended my eyes. I heard a knocking for above an hour, like that of
confused noise about me; but in the people at work; when turning my head
posture I lay, could see nothing except that way, as well as the pegs and strings
the sky. In a little time I felt something would permit me, I saw a stage erected
alive moving on my left leg, which advanc- about a foot and a half from the ground,
ing gently forward over my breast, came capable of holding four of the inhabitants,
almost up to my chin; when bending my with two or three ladders to mount it :
eyes downward as much as I could, I per- from whence one of them, who seemed to be
eived it to be a human creature not six a person of quality, made me a long speech,
inches high, with a bow and arrow in his iwhereof I understood not one syllable.

A VOYAGE '10
But I should have mentioned, that before
the principal person began his oration, he
cried out three times, Langro dehul san;
(these words and the former were afterwards repeated and explained to me.)
Whereupon, immediately about fifty of
the inhabitants came and cut the strings
that fastened the left side of my head,
which gave me the liberty of turning it
to the right, and of observing the person
and gesture of him that was to speak. He
appeared to be of a middle age, and taller
than any of the other three who attended
him, whereof one was a page that held up
his train, and seemed to be somewhat
longer than my middle finger; the other
two stood one on each side to support him.
He acted every part of an orator, and I
could observe many periods of threatenings,and others of promises, pity, and
kindness. I answered in a few words,
but in the most submissive manner, lifting
up my left hand, and both my eyes to the
sun, as calling him for a witness; and
being almost famished with hunger,
having not eaten a morsel for some hours
before I left the ship, I found the demands
of nature so strong upon me, that I could
not forbear showing my impatience
(perhaps against the strict rules of
decency) by putting my finger frequently
to my mouth, to signify that I wanted
food. The hurgo (for so they call a great
lord, as I afterwards learnt) understood
me very well. He descended from the
stage, and commanded that several
ladders should be applied to my sides, on
which above a hundred of the inhabitants
mounted and walked towards my mouth,
laden with baskets full of meat, which
had been provided and sent thither by
the king's orders, upon the first intelli.
gence he received of me. I observed
there was the flesh of several animals, but
could not distinguish them by the taste.
There were shoulders, legs, and loins, shaped like those of mutton, and very well
dressed, but smaller than the wings of a
lark. I ate them by two or three at a
mouthful, and took three loaves at a time,
about the bigness of musket bullets. They
supplied me as fast as they could, showing
a thousand marks of wonder and astonishment at my bulk and appetite. I then
made another sign, that I wanted drink,
They found by my eating that a small quantity would not suffice me; and being a most
ingenious people, they slung up, with great
dexterity, one of their largest hogsheads,
then rolled it towards my hand, and beat
out the top; T Drank it off at a draught,
do,
which I might ,ell for it did not hold
nalf a pint, and tasted like a small wine of
Burgundy, butmuch more delicious. They
brought me a second hogshead, which I
drank in the same manner, and made signs
for more: but they had none to give me.
When I had performed these wonders,
they shouted for joy, and danced upon my
breast, repeating several times as they did
at first, Hekinah degul. They made me a
sign that I should throw down the two
hogsheads, but first warning the people

LILLIPUT.

3

below to stand out of the way, crying aloud,
Borach mevolah; and when they saw the
vessels in the air, there was a universal
shout of Hekinah degul. I confess I was
often tempted, while they were passing
backwards and forwards on my body, to
seize forty or fifty of the first that came in
my reach, and dash them against the
ground. But the remembrance of what I
had felt, which probably might not be the
worst they could do, and the promise of
honour I made them, for so I interpreted
my submissive behaviour, soon drove out
these imaginations. Besides, 1 now considered myself as bound by the laws of
hospitality, to a people who had treated
me with so much expense and magnificence. However, in my thoughts I could
not sufficiently wonder at the intrepidity ol
these diminutive mortals, who durst venture to mount and walk upon my body,
while one of my hands was at liberty, without trembling at the very sight of so prodigious a creature as I must appear to them.
After some time, when they observed that
I made no more demands for meat, there
appeared before me a person of high rank
from his imperial majesty. His excellency,
having mounted on the small of my right
leg, advanced forwards up to my face, with
about a dozen of his retinue ; and produc
mnghis credentials under the signet royal,
which he applied close to my eyes, spoke
about ten minutes without any signs of
anger, but with a kind of determinate resolution; often pointing forwards, which,
as I afterwards found, was towards the
capital city, about half a mile distant;
whither it was agreed by his majesty in
council, that I must be conveyed. I answered in few words, but to no purpose,
and made a sign with my hand that was
loose, putting it to the other, (but over his
excellency's head for fear of hurting him
or his train) and then to my own head and
body, to signify that I desired my liberty.
It appeared that he understood me well
enough, for he shook his head by way of
disapprobation, and held his hand in a pos.
ture to show that I must be carried as a
prisoner. However, he made other signs
to let me understand, that I should have
meat and drink enough, and very good
treatment. Whereupon I once more
thought of attempting to break my bonds;
but again, when I felt the smart of their
arrows upon my face and hands, which
were all in blisters, and many of the darts
still sticking in them, and observing likewise that the number of my enemies increased, I gave tokens to let them know
that they might do with me what they
pleased. Upon this, the hurgo and his
train withdrew, with much civility and
cheerful countenances. Soon after I heard
a general shout, with frequent repetitions
;
of the words Peplom selan and I felt
great numbers of people on my left side relaxing the cords to such a degree, that I
was able to turn upon my right, and to ease
myself with making mater; which I very
plentifully did, to the great astonishment or
the people; who, conjecturing by my mo

4

GULLIVER S TRAVELS.

tion what I was going to do, immediately than three hours, I was raised and slung
opened to the right and left on that side, into the engine, and there tied fast. All
to avoid the torrent, which fell with such this I was told; for, while the operation
noise and violence from me. But before was performing, I lay in a profound sleep,
this, they had daubed my face and both my by the force of that soporiferous medicine
hands with a sort of ointment, very plea- infused into my liquor. Fifteen hundred
sant to the smell, which, in a few minutes, of th emperor's largest horses, each about
removed all the smart of their arrows. fou inches and a half high, were employed
These circumstances, added to the refreshi to draw me towards the metropolis, which,
ment I had received by their victuals and as I said, was half a mile distant.
drink, which were very nourishing, disAbout four hours after we began our
posed me to sleep. I slept about eight journey, I awaked by a very ridiculous ao.
hours, as I was afterwards assured; and it cident; forthe carriage being stopped a
was no wonder, for the physicians, by the while, to adjust something that was out of
emperor's order, had mingled a sleepy po- order, two or three of the young natives
tion in the hogsheads of wine.
had the curiosity to see how I looked when
It seems, that upon the first moment I I was asleep; they climbed up into the
was discovered sleeping on the ground, engine, and advancing very softly to my
after my landing, the emperor had early face, one of them, an officer in the guards,
notice of it by an express ; and determined put the sharp end of his half-pike a good
in council, that I should be tied in the way up into my left nostril, which tickled
manner I have related, (which was done in my nose like a straw, and made me sneeze
the night while I slept;) that plenty of violently ; whereupon they stole offunmeat and drink should be sent me, and a perceived, and it was three weeks before I
machine prepared to carry me to the capi- knew the cause of my waking so suddenly.
tal city.
We made a long march the remaining part
This resolution perhaps may appear very of the day, and rested at night with five
bold and dangerous, and I am confident hundred guards on each side of me, half
would not be imitated by any prince in with torches, and half with bows and arEurope on the like occasion. However, in rows, ready to shoot me if I should offer to
my opinion, it was extremely prudent, as stir. The next morning at sun-rise we
well as generous: for, supposing these continued our march, and arrived within
people had endeavoured to kill me with two hundred yards of the city-gates about
their spears and arrows, while I was asleep, noon. The emperor, and all his court,
I should certainly have awaked with the came out to meet us; but his great officers
first sense of smart, which might so far would by no means suffer his majesty to enhave roused my rage and strength, as to danger his person, by mounting on my body.
have enabled me to break the strings
At the place where the carriage stopped
wherewith I was tied ; after which, as there stood an ancient temple, esteemed to
they were not able to make resistance, so be the largest in the whole kingdom ;
they could expect no mercy.
which, having been polluted some years
These people are most excellent mathe- before by an unnatural murder, was, acmaticians, and arrived to a great perfection cording to the zeal of those people, looked
in mechanics by the countenance and en- upon as profane, and therefore had been
couragement of the emperor, who is a re- applied to common use, and all the ornanowned patron of learning. This prince ments and furniture carried away. In this
has several machines fixed on wheels, for edifice it was determined I should lodge.
the carriage of trees and other great IThe great gate fronting to the north was
weights. He often builds his largest men about four feet high, and almost two feet
of war, whereof some are nine feet long, in wide, through which I could easily creep.
the woods where the timber grows, and On each side of the gate was a small win.
has them carried on these engines three or dow, not above six inches from the ground :
four hundred yards to the sea. Five hun- into that on the left side, the king's smith
dred carpenters and engineers were imme- conveyed fourscore and eleven chains, like
diately set at work to prepare the greatest thosethat hang to a lady's watch in Europe,
engine they had. It was a frame of wood and almost as large, which were locked to
raised three inches from the ground, about my left leg with six-and-thirty padlocks..
seven feet long, and four wide, moving Over against this temple, on the other side
upon twenty-two wheels. The shout I of the great highway, at twenty feet disheard was upon the arrival of this engine, tance, there was a turret at least five feet
which it seems set out in four hours after high. Here the emperor ascended, with
my landing. It was brought parallel to
me, as I lay. But the principal difficulty
t h
e
m
d,
tu
ia
wa-t- aiean.l
i t
e ever cause, thou gh it sometimes excites indignaEighty poles, each of one foot
were tion, never the object contempt ; but this apis
of

J

high,

erected for this purpose, and very strong pears tobe true, only because courage is supposed
uards
thie
imply
superiority; forthis officer
cords, of the bigness of packthread, were
by
and
sdniculous contemptiblesets
many
teed by oks .to
fastened b hooksb~ach~.w ban dages, which ,becomesof the most daring curiosity,
an sct extremey
the workmen had girt round my neck, my him in comparison with Gulliver, to whom he
hands, my body, and my legs. Nine hun- was so much inferior, that a blast of the manwaouldhave endangered his life ;
mountain's
nostrils
dred of
to drawthe strongest men by m employed antheroism itselfnot proof philosophy, who
these cords , were y
i
is
against ridicule,
Y
they surely
are Lilliputians
in

t

up
p

a puoly

in

which

fastened on the poles, and thus, in less consider
ridicule as the of truth.--H.
test

A VOYAGE TO LILLIPUT.

b

many principal lords of his court, to have 1 rose, to p rform that business in open
an opportunity of viewing me, as I was air, at the full extent of my chain; and
told, for I could not see them. It was reck- due care was taken every morning beforeoned that above a hundred thousand in- company came, that the offensive matter
habitants came out of the town upon the should be carried off in wheel-barrows, by
same errand; and in spite of my guards, I two servants appointed for that purpose
believe there could not be fewer than ten I would not have dwelt so long upon a
thousand at several times, who mounted circumstance that, perhaps, at first sight
my body by the help of ladders. But a may appear not very momentous if I had
proclamation was soon issued, to forbid it not thought it necessary to justify my cha.
upon pain of death. When the workmen racter, in point of cleanliness, to the world;
found it was impossible for me to break which, I am told, some of my malignes
loose, they cut all the strings that bound have been pleased, upon this and other
me; whereupon I rose up, with as melan- occasions, to call in question.
choly a disposition as ever I had in my
When this adventure was at an end, I
life. But the noise and astonishment of came back out of my house, having
the people, at seeing me rise and walk, are occasion for fresh air. The emperor
not to be expressed. The chains that held was already descended from the tower, and
my left leg were about two yards long, and .advancing on horseback towards me, which
gave me nut only the liberty of walking I had like to have cost him dear; for the
backwards and forwards in a semicircle; beast, though very well trained, yet wholly
but, being fixed within four inches of the unused to such a sight, which appeared as
gate, allowed me to creep in, and lie at my if a mountain moved before him, reared up
full length in the temple.
on his hinder feet : but that prince, who is
an excellent horseman, kept his seat, till
his attendants ran in, and held the bridle,
while his majesty had time to dismount.
When he alighted. he surveyed me round
CHAPTER II.
with great admiration; but kept beyond
the length of my chain. He ordered his
The Emperor of Lilliput, attendedby several cooks and butlers, who were already preof the nobility, comes to see the Author in pared, to give me victuals and drink,
his confinement. The Emperor's person which they pushed forward in a sort of
and habit described. Learned men ap- vehicles upon wheels, till I could reach
pointed to teach the Author theirlanguage. them. I took these vehicles and soon
He gains favour by his mild disposition. emptied them all; twenty of them were
His pockets are searched, and his sword filled with meat, and ten with liquor ;
each of the former afforded me two or
and pistols takenfrom him.
three good mouthfuls; and I emptied the
WHEN I found myself on my feet, I looked liquor of ten vessels, which was contained
about me, and must confess I never beheld in earthen vials, into one vehicle, drink
a more entertaining prospect. The coun- ing it off at a draught; and so I did with
try around appeared like a continued gar- the rest. The empress, and young princes
den, and the enclosed fields, which were of the blood of both sexes, attended by
generally forty feet square, resembled so many ladies, sat at some distance in their
many beds of flowers. These fields were chairs; but upon the accident that hapintermingled with woods of half a stang,* pened to the emperor's horse, they alighted,
and the tallest trees, as 1 could judge, and came near his person, which I am now
appeared to be seven feet high. I viewed going to describe. He is taller by almost
the town on my left hand, which looked the breadth of my nail, than any of his
like the painted scene of a city in a court ; which alone is enough to strike an
theatre.
awe into the beholders. His features are
I had been for some hours extremely strong and masculine, with an Austrian lip
pressed by the necessities of nature; which and arched nose, his complexion olive, his
was no wonder, it being almost two days countenance erect, his body and limbs well
since I had last disburdened myself. I proportioned, all his motions graceful, and
was under great difficulties between urgen. his deportment majestic. He was then
cy and shame. The best expedient I past his prime, being twenty-eight years
could think of, was to creep into my and three quarters old, of which he had
house, which I accordingly did; and reigned about seven in great felicity, and
shutting the gate after me, I went as far generally victorious. For the better conas the length of my chain would suffer, venience of beholding him, I lay on my
and discharged my body of that uneasy side, so that my face was parallel to his
load. But this was the only time I was and he stood but three yards off: however,
ever guilty of so uncleanly an action; for I have had him since many times in my
which I cannot but hope the candid reader hand, and therefore cannot be deceived in
will give some allowance, after he has the description. His dress was very plain
maturely and impartially considered my and simple, and the fashion of it between
case, and the distress I was in. From this the Asiatic and the European : but he
time my constant practice was, as soon as had on his head a light helmet of gold,
adorned with jewels, and a plume on the
a crest. He held his sword drawn in his
stang is a pole or perch ; sixteen feet
A
a"-ork
A sasal
band to defend himself, If I should happen

and

6

GULLIVE

'S TRAVELS.

to break loose: a it was almost three inches their beds, sewn together, made up the
long; the hilt and scabbard were gold breadth and length; and these were fou.
enriched with diamonds. His voice was double; which, however, kept me bu,
shrill, but very clear and articulate; and I very indifferently from the hardness of the
could distinctly hear it when I stood up. floor, that was of smooth stone. By the
The ladies and courtiers were all most same computation, they provided me
magnificently clad; so that the spot they with sheets, blankets, and coverlets,
stood upon seemed to resemble a petticoat tolerable enough for one who had been so
spread on the ground, embroidered with long inured to hardships.
figures of gold and silver. His imperial
As the news of my arrival spread through
majesty spoke often to me, and I returned the kingdom, it brought prodigious numanswers : but neither of us could under- hers of rich, idle, and curious people to see
stand a syllable. There were several of me; so that the villages were almost
his priests and lawyers present (as I con- emptied; and great neglect of tillage and
jectured by their habits), who were com- household affairs must have ensued, if his
mnanded to address themselves to me; and imperial majesty had not provided, by
I spoke to them in as many languages as I several proclamations and orders of state,
had the least smattering of, which were against this inconveniency. He directed,
high and Low Dutch, Latin, French, that those who had already beheld me
Spanish, Italian, and Lingua Franca. should return home, and not presume to
but all to no purpose. After about two come within fifty yards of my house, withhours the court retired, and I was left out license from the court; whereby the
with a strong guard, to prevent the im- secretaries of state got considerable fees.
pertinence, and probably the malice of the
In the mean time the emperor held frerabble, who were very impatient to crowd quent councils, to debate what course
about me as near as they durst; and some should be taken with me; and I was
of them had the impudence to shoot their afterwards assured, by a particular friend,
arrows at me, as I sat on the ground by a person of great quality, who was as much
the door ofmyhouse, whereof one very nar- in the secret as any, that the court was
rowly missed my left eye. But the colonel under many difficulties concerning me.
ordered six of the ringleaders to be seized, They apprehended my breaking loose;
and thought no punishment so proper as to that mydiet would be very expensive, and
deliver them bound into my hands; which I might cause a famine. Sometimes they
some of his soldiers accordingly did, push- determined to starve me; or at least to
ing them forwards with the butt-ends of shoot me in the face and hands with
their pikes into my reach. I took them poisoned arrows, which would soon des.
all in my right hand, put five of them patch me; but again they considered, that
into my coat-pocket, and as to the sixth, the stench of so large a carcass might
I made a countenance as if I would eat produce a plague in the metropolis, and
him alive. The poor man squalled terribly, probably spread through the whole kingand the colonel and his officers were in dom. In the midst of these consultations,
much pain, especially when they saw me several officers of the army went to the
take out my penknife: but I soon put door of the great council-chamber, and
them out of fear; for, looking mildly, and two of them being admitted, gave an acimmediately cutting the strings he was count of my behaviour to the six criminals
bound with, I set him gently on the above-mentioned; which made so favoura.
ground, and away he ran. I treated the ble an impression in the breast of his
rest in the same manner, taking them one majesty, and the whole board, in my
by one out of my pocket; and I observed behalf, that an imperial commission was
both the soldiers and people were highly issued out, obliging all the villages, nine
delighted at this mark of my clemency, hundred yards round the city, to deliver
which was represented very much to my in every morning six beeves, forty sheep,
advantage at court.
Towards night I got with some difficulty and other victuals for my sustenance'
together with a proportionable quantity of
into my house, where I lay on the ground, bread, and wine, and other liquors; for
and continued to do so about a fortnight; the due payment of which, his majesty
during which time, the emperor gave gave assignments upon his treasury : for
orders to have a bed prepared for me. this prince lives chiefly upon his own
Six hundred beds of the common mea- demesnes: seldom, except upon great
sure were brought in carriages, and worked occasions, raising any subsidies upon his
up in my house; a hundred and fifty of subjects, who are bound to attend him in
#
his wars at their own expense. An estabSThe masculine strength of features, which Iishment was also made of six hundred
Guliver
ould net see tli he sid his face upn persons to be my domestics,
who had board-

f

a being, whom he held in his hand; the helmet, wages allowed
for their maintenance, and
the plume, and the sword, are a
reproof of tents built
them very conveniently on
human pride; the objects of which are trifling leach side for my door It was likewise
of
distinctions, whether
tof
person or rank the ordered, that three hundred tailors should

fine

which derive.not only their origin but their use
from the folly, weakness, and imperfection, of our-

make me a suit of clothes, after the fashion
of the country : that six of his majesty's
fiuliver ha observed great exactness in th greatest scholars should be employed to
proportion and appearance of the objects thue instruct me in their language: and lastly,
Uaezm..=rser.
that the emperor's horses, and those of the

jut

A VOYAGE TO LILLIPUT.

7

nobility and troops of guards, should be set us both a sneezing for several times to.
frequently exercised in my sight, to accus- gether. In his right waistcoat-pocket we
torn themselves to me. All these orders found a prodigious bundle of white thin
were duly put in execution; and in about substances, folded one over another, about
three weeks I made a great progress in the bigness of three men, tied with a strong
)earning their language; during which cable, and marked with black figures;
time the emperor frequently honoured me which we humbly conceive to be writings,
with his visits, and was pleased to assist every letter almost half as large as the
my masters in teaching me. We began palm of our hands. In the left there was
already to converse together in some sort; a sort of engine, from the back of which
and the first words I learnt, were to were extended twenty long poles, resemthe pallisados before your majesty's
express my desire " that he would please bling
to give me my liberty;" which I every court: wherewith we conjecture the manday repeated on my knees. His answer, mountain combs his head; for we did not
as I could comprehend it, was, " that this always trouble him with questions, because
must be a work of time, not to be thought we found it a great difficulty to make him
on without the advice of his council, and understand us. In the large pocket, on
that first I must lumos kelminpesso desmar the right side of his middle cover (so I
lon emposo;" that is, swear a peace with translate the word ranfi-lo, by which they
him and his kingdom. However, that I meant my breeches,) we saw a hollow pil.
should be used with all kindness. And he lar of iron, about the length of a man,
advised me to " acquire, by my patience fastened to a strong piece of timber larger
and discreet behaviour, the good opinion of than the pillar; and upon one side of the
himself and his subjects." He desired pillar, were huge pieces of iron sticking out,
" I would not take it ill, if he gave orders cut into strange figures, which we know
to certain proper officers to search me; for not what to make of. In the left pocket,
probably I might carry about me several another engine of the same kind. In the
weapons, which must needs be dangerous smaller pocket on the right side, were
things, if they answered the bulk of so several round fiat pieces of white and red
I said, "His metal, of different bulk; some of the
prodigious a person."
majesty should be satisfied; for I was white, which seemed to be silver, were so
ready to strip myself, and turn up my large and heavy, that my comrade and I
pockets before him." This I delivered could hardly lift them. In the left pocket
part in words, and part in signs. He re- were two black pillars irregularly shaped :
plied, " that, by the laws of the kingdom, we could not, without difficulty, reach the
I must be searched by two of his officers; top of them, as we stood at the bottom of
that he knew this could not be done with- his pocket. One of them was covered, and
out my consent and assistance; and he had seemed all of a piece : but at the upper end
so good an opinion of my generosity and of the other there appeared a white round
justice, as to trust their persons in my substance, about twice the bigness of our
hands : that whatever they took from me, heads. Within each of these was enclosed
should be returned when I left the country, a prodigious plate of steel; which, by our
or paid for at the rate which I would set orders, we obliged him to show us, because
upon them." I took up the two officers in we apprehended they might be dangerous
my hands, put them first into my coat- engines. He took them out of their cases,
pockets, and then into every other pocket and told us, that in his own country his
about me, except my two fobs, and another practice was to shave his beard with one of
secret pocket, which I had no mind should these, and cut his meat with the other.
be searched, wherein I had some little ne- There were two pockets which we could
cessaries that were of no consequence to not enter : these he called his fobs; they
any but myself. In one of my fobs there were two large slits cut into the top of his
was a silver watch, and in the other a small middle cover, but squeezed close by the
quantity of gold in a purse. These gentle- pressure of his belly. Out of the right fob
men, having pen, ink, and paper, about hung a great silver chain, with a wonder.
thee made an exact inventory of every ful kind of engine at the bottom. We di.
th'hg they saw; and when they had done, rected him to draw out whatever was at
desired I would set them down, that they the end of that chain; which appeared to
might deliver it to the emperor. This in- be a globe, half silver, and half of some
ventory I afterwards translated into Eng- transparent metal; for, on the transparent
side, we saw certain strange figures cir.
lish, and is word for word as follows:
Imprimis, In the right coat-pocket of cularly drawn, and thought we could touch
the great man-mountain (for so I interpret them, till we found our fingers stopped by
after the
the words quinbusflestrin,) strictest that lucid substance. He put this engine
search, we found only one great piece of to our ears, which made an incessant noise,
coarse-cloth large enough to be a foot- like that of a water-mill: and we conjec.
cloth for your majesty's chief room of ture it is either some unknown animal, or
state. In the left pocket we saw a huge the god that he worships; but we are more
silver chest, with a cover of the same inclined to the latter opinion, because he
metal, which we, the searchers, were not assured us, (if we understood him right,
able to lift. We desired it should be open- for he expressed himself very imperfectly)
ed, and one of us stepping into it, found that he seldom did any thing without conhimself up to the mid leg in a sort of dust, sulting it. He called it his oracle, and
part whereof flying up to our laces said, it pointed out the time for every ao

some

GULLIVER'S TRAVELS.
lion of his life.,
From the left fob he
took out a net almost large enough for a
fisherman, but contrived to open and shut
like a purse, and served him for the same
use: we found therein several massy
pieces of yellow metal, which, if they be
real gold, must be of immense value.
'Having thus, in obedience to your
majesty's commands, diligently searched all
his pockets, we observed a girdle about his
waist made of the hide of some prodigious
animal, from which, on the left side, hung
a sword of the length of five men; and on
the right, a bag or pouch divided into two
cells, each cell capable of holding three of
your majesty's subjects. In one of these
cells were several globes, or balls, of a most
ponderous metal, about the bigness of our
heads, and required a strong hand to lift
them: the other cell contained a heap of
certain black grains, but of no great bulk
or weight, for we could hold above fifty of
them in the palms of our hands.
" This is an exact inventory of what we
found about the body of the man-mountain, who used us with great civility, and
due respect to your majesty's commission.
Signed and sealed on the fourth day of the
eighty-ninth moon of your majesty's auspicious reign.
" Clefrin Frelock, Marsi Frelock."
When this inventory was read over to
the emperor, he directed me, although in
very gentle terms, to deliver up the several
particulars. He first called for my scimitar, which I took out, scabbard and all.
In the mean time he ordered three thousand of his choicest troops (who then attended him) to surround me at a distance,
with their bows and arrows just ready to
discharge; but I did not observe it, for
mine eyes were wholly fixed upon his majesty. He then desired me to draw my
scimitar, which, although it had got some
rust by the sea water, was, in most parts,
exceeding bright. I did so, and immediately all the troops gave a shout between
terror and surprise; for the sun shone
clear, and the reflection dazzled their eyes,
as I waved the scimitar to and f:o in my
hand. His majesty, who is a most magnanimous prince, j was less daunted than I
could expect: lie ordered me to return it
into the scabbard, and cast it on the ground
as gently as I could, about six feet from
the end of my chain. The next thing he
demanded was one of the hollow iron pillars ; by which he meant my pocket pistols. I drew it out, and at his desire, as
well as I could, expressed to him the use
of it; and charging it only with powder,
which, by the closeness of my poucl, hap-

pened to escape wetting in the sea (an in.
convenience against which all prudent
mariners take special care to provide,) I
first cautioned the emperor not to be afraid,
and then I let it off in the air. The as.
tonishment here was much greater than at
the sight of the scimitar. Hundreds fell
down as if they had been struck dead; and
even the emperor, although he stood his
ground, could not recover himself for some
time. I delivered up both my pistols in
the same manner as I had done my sci.
mitar, and then my pouch of powder and
bullets; begging him that the former
might be kept from fire, for it would kindle
with the smallest spark, and blow up his
imperial palace into the air. I likewise
delivered up my watch, which the emperor
was very curious to see, and commanded
two of his tallest yeomen of the guards to
bear it on a pole upon their shoulders, as
draymen in England do a barrel of ale.
He was amazed at the continual noise it
made, and the motion of the minute-hand,
which he could easily discern; for their
sight is much more acute than ours: he
asked the opinions of his learned men
about it, which were various and remote,
as the reader may well imagine without my
repeating; although indeed I could not
very perfectly understand them. I then
gave up my silver and copper money, my
purse with nine large pieces of gold, and
some smaller ones;

ray knife and razor,

my comb and silver snuff-box, my hand.
kerchief and journal-book. My scimitar,
pistols, and pouch, were conveyed in carriages to his majesty's stores; but the rest
of my goods were returned me.
I had, as I before observed, one private
pocket, which escaped their search, wherein there was a pair of spectacles (which I
sometimes use for the weakness of mine
eyes,) a pocket perspective, and some other
little conveniences; which, being of no con.
sequence to the emperor, I did not think
myself bound in honour to discover, and I
apprehended they might be lost or spoiled.
if I ventured them out of my possession.

CHAPTER III.
The Author diverts the Emperor, and is
nobility of both sexes, in a very uncommon
manner. The diversions of the Court of
Lilliput described. The Author has his
liberty granted hint upon certain conditions.

My gentleness and good behaviour had
gained so far on the emperor and his court,
the army and people in
I began to conceive hopes or
tions travellers, byshowing' little need getting my liberty in a short time. I took
of
how
truth
to be misunderstood make falsehood specito
all possible methods to cultivate this facous.-H.
t He who does not
himself disposed to ho- vourable disposition. The natives came,
nour this magnanimity, should
reflect, that a right by degrees, to be less apprehensive of any
to judge of moral and intellectual excellence is, danger from me. I would sometimes lie
with great absurdity and injustice, arrogated by
him who admires, in a being six feet high, any down, and let five or six of them dance on
qualities that he despises in one whose stature does my head; and at last the boys and girls
not exceed six inches.-H.
would venture to come and play atlide ad

*Perhapsthe author intendedto expose the and indeed upon
probable of opinions derived from the re~a- general, that
fallacy

fnd

A VOYAGE TO LILLIPUT,
from the former, and such as I have not
observed the least resemblance of in any
other country of the new or old world.
The emperor holds a stick in his hands, both
ends parallel to the horizon, while the candidates advancing, one by one, sometimes
leap over the stick, sometimes creep under
it, backward and forward, several times,
according as the stick is advanced or depressed. Sometimes the emperor holds one
end of the stick, and his first minister the
other; sometimes the minister has it entirely to himself. Whoever performs his
part with most agility, and holds out the
longest in leaping and creeping, is reward.
ed with the blue-coloured silk; the red is
given to the next, and the green to the
third, which they all wear girt twice round
about the middle; and you see few great
persons about this court who are not adorn.
ed with one of these girdles.
The horses of the army, and those of the
royal stables, having been daily led before
me, were no longer shy, but would come
up to my very feet without starting. The
riders would leap them over my hand, as I
held it on the ground; and one of the emperor's huntsmen, upon a large courser,
took my foot, shoe and all; which was indeed a prodigious leap. I had the good
fortune to divert the emperor one day after
a very extraordinary manner. I desired he
would order several sticks of two feet high,
and the thickness of an ordinary cane, to
be brought me; whereupon his majesty
commanded the master of his woods to give
directions accordingly; and the next morning six woodmen arrived with as many carriages, drawn by eight horses to each. I
took nine of these sticks, and fixing them
firmly in the ground in a quadrangular
figure, two feet and a half square, I took
four other sticks, and tied them parallel at
each corner about two feet from the ground;
then I fastened my handkerchief to the
nine sticks that stood erect; and extended
it on all sides, till it was tight as the top of
a drum; and the four parallel sticks, rising
about five inches higher than the handkex
chief, served as ledges on each side.
When I had finished my work, I desirea
the emperor to let a troop of his best horse,
twenty-four in number, come and exercise
upon this plain. His majesty approved of
the proposal, and I took them up, one by
one, in my hands, ready mounted and arm.
ed, with the proper officers to exercise them.
As soon as they got into order, they divided
into two parties, performed mock skir.
mishes, discharged blunt arrows, drew their
swords, fled and pursued, attacked and re.
tired, and in short discovered the best mi.
litary discipline I ever beheld. The parallel sticks secured them and their horses
from falling over the stage; and the emperor, was so much delighted, that he ordered this entertainment to be repeated
several days, and once was pleased to be
lifted up and give the word of command;
and with great difficulty persuaded even
* Summerset or summersault, a gambol of a tumb. the empress herself to let me hold her in
ler, in which he springs up, turns heels over head her close chair within two yards of the
in the air, and cones down upon his feet.-Orig.
stage, when she was able to take a full
reek in my hair. I had now made a good
progress in understanding and speaking the
language. The emperor had a mind one
day to entertain me with several of the
country shows, wherein they exceeded all
nations I have known, both for dexterity
and magnificence. I was diverted with
none so much as that of the rope-dancers,
performed upon a slender white thread, ex.
tended about two feet, and twelve inches
from the ground; upon which I shall desire liberty, with the reader's patience, to
enlarge a little.
This diversion is only practised by those
persons, who are candidates for great employments, and high favour at court. They
are trained in this art from their youth,
and are not always of noble birth, or liberal education. When a great office is
vacant, either by death or disgrace (which
often happens,) five or six of those candidates petition the emperor to entertain his
mnajesty and the court with a dance on the
rope; and whoever jumps the highest,
without falling, succeeds in the office.
Very often the chief ministers themselves
are commanded to show their skill, and to
convince the emperor that they have not
lost their faculty. Flimnap, the treasurer,
is allowed to cut a caper on the straight
rope, at least an inch higher than any
other lord in the whole empire. I have
seen him do the summerset* sevral times
together, upon a trencher fixed on a rope
which is no thicker than a common packthread in England. My friend Reldresal,
principal secretary for private affairs, is, in
my opinion, if I am not partial, the second
after the treasurer; the rest of the great
officers are much upon a par.
These diversions are often attended with
fatal accidents, whereof great numbers are
on record. I myself have seen two or three
candidates break a limb. But the danger
is much greater, when the ministers them.
selves are commanded to show their dexterity! for, by contending to. excel themselves and their fellows, they strain so far
that there is hardly one of them who has
not received a fall, and some of them two
or three. I was assured that, a year or
two before my arrival, Flimnap would infallibly have broke his neck, if one of the
king's cushions, that accidently lay on the
ground, had hot weakened the force of his
fall.
There is likewise another diversion,
which is only shown before the emperor
and empress, and first minister, upon particular occasions. The emperor lays on the
table three fine silken threads of six inches long; one is blue, the other red, and
,ne third green. These threads are pro.
posed as prizes for those persons whom the
emperor has a mind to distinguish by a peculiar mark of his favour. The ceremony
is performed in his majesty's great chamber
of state, where the candidates are to undergo a trial of dexterity, very different

10

GULLIVER'S TRAVELS,

view of the whole performance. It was my in close order, and marcf them under me;
good fortune, that no ill accident happened the foot by twenty-four abreast, and the
an these entertainments; only once a fiery horse by sixteen, with drums beating, colhorse, that belonged to one of the captains, ours flying, and pikes advanced. This body
pawing with his hoof, struck a hole in my consisted of three thousand foot, and a
handkerchief, and his foot slipping, he over- thousand horse. His majesty gave orders,
threw his rider and himself; but I imme- upon pain of death, that every soldier in
diately relieved them both, and covering his march should observe the strictest dethe hole with one hand, I set down the cency with regard to my person; which
troop with the other, in the same manner however could not prevent some of the
is I took them up. The horse that fell was younger officers from turning up their eyes
strained in the left shoulder, but the rider as they passed under me: and, to confess
got no hurt; and I repaired my handker- the truth, my breeches were at that time
chief as well as I could: however, I would in so ill a condition, that they afforded
not trust to the strength of it any more, in some opportunities for laughter and admiration.
such dangerous enterprises.
I had sent so many memorials and petiAbout two or three days before I was set
at liberty, as I was entertaining the court tions for my liberty, that his majesty at
with this kind of feats, there arrived an ex- length mentioned the matter, first in the
press to inform his majesty, that some of his cabinet, and then in a full council; where
subjects, riding near the place where I was it was opposed by none, except Skyresh
first taken up, had seen a great black sub- Bolgolam, who was pleased, without any
stance lying on the ground, very oddly shap. provocation, to be my mortal enemy. But
ed, extending its edges round, as wide as it was carried against him by the whole
his majesty's bedchamber, and rising up in board, and confirmed by the emperor.
the middle as high as a man; that it ,"as That minister was galbet, or admiral of the
no living creature, as they at first appre- realm, very much in his master's confidence,
hended, for it lay on the grass without mo- and a person well versed in affairs, but of
tion; and some of them had walked round a morose and sour complexion. However,
it several times; that, by mounting upon he was at length persuaded to comply; but
each other's shoulders, they had got to the prevailed that the articles and conditions
top, which was flat and even, and, stamp- upon which I should be set free, and to
ing upon it, they found that it was hollow which I must swear, should be drawn up
within; that they humbly conceived it by himself. These articles were brought
might be something belonging to the man- to me by Skyresh Bolgolam in person atmountain ; and if his majesty pleased, they tended by two under-secretaries, and sevewould undertake to bring it with only five ral persons of distinction. After they were
horses. I presently knew what they meant, read, I was demanded to swear to the perand was glad at heart to receive this in- formance of them; first in the manner of
telligence. It seems, upon my first reach. my own country, and afterwards in the
ing the shore after our shipwreck, I was method prescribed by their laws; which
in such confusion, that before I came to was, to hold my right foot in my left hand,
the place where I went to sleep, my hat, and to place the middle finger of my right
which I had fastened with a string to my hand on the crown of my head, and my
head while I was rowing, and had stuck on thumb on the tip of my right ear. But beall the time I was swimming, fell off after cause the reader may be curious to have
I came to land; the string, as I conjecture, some idea of the style and manner of exbreaking by some accident, which I never pression peculiar to that people, as well as
observed, but thought my hat had been lost to know the article upon which I recovered
at sea. I entreated his imperial majesty my liberty, I have made a translation of
to give orders it might be brought to me as the whole instrument, word for word, as
soon as possible, describing to him the use near as I was able, which I here offer to
and the nature of it : and the next day the the public.
" Golbasto Momarem Evlame Gurdile
waggoners arrived with it, but not in a
very good condition; they had bored two Shefin Mully Ully Gue, most mighty emholes in the brim, within an inch and half peror of Lilliput, delight and terror of the
of the edge, and fastened two hooks in the universe, whose dominions extend five
holes; these hooks were tied by a longcord thousand blustrugs (about twelve miles in
to the harness, and thus my hat was dragg- circumference) to the extremities of the
ed along for above half an English mile; globe; monarch of allmonarchs, taller than
but, the ground in that country being ex- the sons of men; whose feet press down to
tremely smooth and level, it received less the centre, and whose head strikes against
damage than I expected.
the sun; at whose, nod the princes of the
Two days after this adventure, the em- earth shake their knees; pleasant as the
peror, having ordered that part of his army spring, comfortable as the summer, fruitful
which quarters in and about his metropolis, as autumn, dreadful as winter. His most
to be in readiness, took a fancy of diverting sublime majesty proposes to: the manhimself in a very singular manner. He de- p;nountain, lately arived at our celestial do.
sired I would stand like a Colossus, with minions, the following articles, which, by a
my legs as far asunder as I conveniently solemn oath, he shall be obliged to perform.
could. He then commanded his general
" 1st, The man-mountain shall not de.
(who was an old experienced leader, and a part from our dominions, without our Ugreat patron of mine) to draw up the troops cense under our great seal.

A VOYAGE TO LILLIPUT.
Sd, Hleshall not presume to come into
zu 'metropolis, without our express order;
at which time, the inhabitants shall have
two hours' warning to keep within doors.
" 3d, The said man-mountain shall confine his walks to our principal high roads,
and not offer to walk, orliedown, in a meadow or field of corn.
"4th, As he walks the said roads, he
shall take the utmost care not to trample
upon the bodies of any of our loving subjects, their horses, or carriages, nor take
any of our subjects into his hands without
their own consent.
"5th, If an express requires extraordinary despatch, the man.mountain shall be
obliged to carry, in his pocket, the messenger and horse a six days' journey, once in
every moon, and return the said messenger
back (if so required) safe to our imperial
presence.
"6th, He shall be our ally against our
enemies in the island of Blefuscu,* and do
his utmost to destroy their fleet, which is
now preparing to invade us.
"7th, That the said man-mountain shall,
at his time of leisure, be aiding and assisting to our workmen, in helping to raise
certain great stones, towards covering the
wall of the principal park, and our other
royal buildings.
8th, That thesaid man-mountain shall,
in two moons' time, deliver in an exact
survey of the circumference of our
dominions, by a computation of his own
paces round the coast.
" Lastly, That, upon his solemn oath to
observe all the above articles, the said
man-mountain shall have a daily allowance
of meat and drink sufficient for the support of 1724 of our subjects, with free
access to our royal person, and other marks
of our favour. Given at our palace at
Belfaborac, the twelfth day of the ninetyfirst moon of our reign."
I swore and subscribed to these articles
with great cheerfulness and content,
although some of them were not so honourable as I could have wished; which proceeded wholly from the malice of Skyresh
Bolgolam, the high-admiral: whereupon
my chains were immediately unlocked, and
I was at futll liberty. The emperor himself,
in person, did me the honour to be by at
the whole ceremony. I made my acknow.
ledgments by prostrating myself at his
majesty's feet: but he commanded me to
rise; and after many gracious expressions,
which, to avoid the censure of vanity, I
shall not repeat, he added, "that he hoped
I should prove a useful servant, and well
deserve all the favours he had already
conferred upon me, or might do for the
future."
The reader may please to observe, that,
in the last article of the recovery of my
liberty, the emperor stipulates to allow me
a quantity of meat and drink sufficient for

had

Engl
ansd

In hisof Lllpt, he eeo
dsription
e.
F

mesr

immedia
ely

h

11

the support of 1724 Lilliputians. Some
time after, asking a friend at court how
they came to fix on that determinate
number, he told me that his majesty's
mathematicians, having taken the height
of my body by the help of a quadrant, and
finding it to exceed theirs in the proportion
of twelve to one, they concluded from the
similarity of their bodies, that mine must
contain at least 1724 of theirs, and conse.
quently would require as much food as
was necessary to support that number of
Lilliputians. By which the reader may
conceive an idea of the ingenuity of the
people, as well as the prudent and exact
economy of so great a prince.

CHAPTER IV.
Mildendo, the metropolis of Lilliput, described,
together with the Emperor's
palace. A conversation between the
Author and a principal secretary, con.
cerning the affairs of that empire. The
Author's offers to serve the Emperor in
his wars.
THe. first request I made, after I had
obtained my liberty was, that I might
have license to see Mildendo, the metropo
lis; which the emperor easily granted me,
but with a special charge to do no hurt
either to the inhabitants or their houses.
The people had notice by proclamation, of
my design to visit the town. The wall,
which encompassed it, is two feet and a
half high, and at least eleven inches broad,
so that a coach and horses may be driven
very safely round it; and it is flanked with
strong towers at ten feet distance. I
stepped over the great western gate, and
passed very gently and sideling through
the two principal streets only in my short
waistcoat, for fear of damaging the roofs
and eaves of the houses with the skirts of
my coat. I walked with the utmost circumspection, to avoid treading on any
stragglers who might remain in the streets;
although the orders were very strict, that
all people should keep in their houses, at
their own peril. The garret windows and
tops of houses were so crowded with
spectators, that I thought in all my travels
I had not seen a more populous place.
The city is an exact square, each side of
the wall being five hundred feet long.
The two great streets, which run across
and divide it into four quarters, are five
feet wide. The lanes and alleys, which I
could not enter, but only viewed them as I
passed, are from twelve to eighteen inches.
The town is capable of holding five hundred
thousand souls: the houses are from three
to five stories: the shops and markets well
provided.
The emperor's palace is in the centre of
the city where the two great streets meet.
It is enclosed by a wall of two feethugh,

eand twenty feet distance from the
t
intendhadwall;majesty's permission tobuiiw is.
the I
his
step aver
this
and

description
of Blefuscu, seems to
he
peopleand kingdom of France.-Orrery.j

the space being so wide

12

GULLIVER'STRAVELS.

oetween that and the palace, I could easily during my solicitations at court. I offered
view it on every
side. The cutward court to lie down that he might the more conis a square of forty feet, and includes two veniently reach my ear; but uxc choose
other courts : in the inmost are the royal rather to let me hold him in my .ar d
apartments, which I was very desirous to during our conversation. He began with
see, but found it extremely difficult; for compliments on my liberty; said "he
the great gates, from one square into might pretend to some merit in it;"
another, were but eighteen inches high, but however added, "that if it had not
and seven inches wide. Now the buildings been for the present situation of things at
of the outer court were at least five feet court, perhaps I might not have obtained
high, and it was impossible for me to stride it so soon. For," said he, "as flourishing
over them without infinite damage to the a condition as we may appear to be in to
pile, though the walls were strongly built foreigners, we labour under two mighty
of hewn stone, and four inches thick. At evils: a violent faction at home, and the
the same time the emperor had a great danger of an invasion, by a most potent
desire that I should see the magnificence enemy, from abroad. As to the first, you
his palace ; but this I was not able to do are to understand, that for above seventy
till three days after, which 1 spent in moons past there have been two struggling
cutting down with my knife some of the parties in this empire, under the names of
largest trees in the royal park, about a Tramecksan and Slamecksan,* from the
hundred yards' distant from the city. Of high and low heels of their shoes, by which
these trees I made two stools, each about they distinguish themselves. It is alleged,
three feet high, and strong enough to bear indeed, that the high heels are most agree.
my weight. The people having received able to our ancient constitution; but, hownotice a second time, I went again through ever this be, his majesty has determined to
the city to the palace with my two stools make use only of low heels in the adminisin my hands. When I came to the side of tration of the government, and all offices
the outer court, I stood upon one stool, in the gift of the crown, as you cannot but
and took the other in my hand; this I observe; and particularly that his majesty's
lifted over the roof, and gently set it down imperial heels are lower at least by a drurr
on the space between the first and second than any of his court : drurr a measure
is
court, which was eight feet wide. I then about the fourteenth part of an inch. The
stepped over the building very convenient, animosities between these two parties run
ly from one stool to the other, and drew up so high, that they will neither eat, nor
the first after me with a hooked stick. By drink, nor talk with each other. We
this contrivance I got into the inmost compute the Tramecksan, or high heels, to
court; and, lying down upon my side, I exceed us in number; but the power is
applied my face to the windows of the mid. wholly on our side. We apprehend his
dle stories, which were left open on pur. imperial highness, the heir to the crown,
pose, and discovered the most splendid to have some tendency towards the high
apartments that can be imagined. There heels; at least we can plainly discover that
I saw the empress and the young princes, one of his heels is higher than the other,
in their several lodgings, with their chief which gives him a hobble in his gait.
attendants about them. Her imperi Now, in the midst of these intestine dismajesty was pleased to smile very gracious- ' quiets, we are threatened with an invasion
ly upon me, and gaveme out of the window ; from the island of Blefuscu, which is the
her hand to kiss.
other great empire of the universe, almost
But I shall not anticipate the reader as large and powerful as this of his majesty.
with further descriptions of this kind, For as to what we have heard you affirm,
because I reserve them for a greater work, that there are other kingdoms and states in
which is now almost ready for the press; the world inhabited by human creatures as
containing a general description of this large as yourself, our philosophers are in
empire, from its first erection, through a much doubt, and would rather conjecture
long series of princes; with a particular that you dropped from the moon, or one of
account of their wars and politics, laws, the stars; because it is certain, that a hun.
learning, and religion; their plants and dred mortals of your bulk would in a short
animals ; their peculiar manners and cus- time destroy all the fruits and cattle of his
toms, with other matters very curious and majesty's dominions : besides, our histories
useful; my chief design at present being of six thousand moons make no mention of
only to relate such events and transactions any other regions than the two great
as happened to the public or to myself empires of Lilliput and Blefuscu. Which
during a residence of about nine months in two mighty powers have, as I was going to
that empire.
tell you, been engaged in a most obstinate
One morning, about a fortnight after I war for six-and.thirty moons past. It
had obtained my liberty, Reldresal, princi- began upon the following occasion : it is
pal secretary (as they style him) for private allowed on all hands, that the primitive
affairs, came to my house attended only by

,f

one servant.
He ordered his coach to
waitat a distance, and desired I would
give hm an hour's audience ; which I

* High-church and low-church, or whig and
tQry. As every accidental di,
between man

frence

and man inperson andcircumstances is by this
so specureadily consented to, on account of his work rendered extremely contemptible; ridiculous,
djrencesare shown to beequally
essd personal merits, as well as of
quality and personal
offices
the many

Rood

Wive

when the

zeal
wLth

which they are

opposed

and

he had done me defended toomuschexceeds their importance.-x.

13

A VOYAGE TO LILLIPUT.

way of breaking eggs, before we eat them,
was upon the larger end; but his present
CHAPTER V.
majesty's grandfather, while he was a
boy, going to eat an egg, and breaking it The Author, by an extraordinary
stratagenm
according to the ancient practice, happen.
prevents an invasion. A high title of hon.
ed to cut one of his fingers ; whereupon
our is conferred upon him. Ambassadors
the emperor his father published an edict,
.arrivefrom the Emperor of Blefuscu, and
commanding all his subjects, upon great J rueforpeace. The Emperor's apartments
penalties, to break the smaller erl of
en fire by accident; the Author instru.
their eggs. The people so highly resent"nentalin saving the rest of the palace.
ed this law, that our histories tell us, there
have been six rebellions raised on that ac- 1 THE empire of Blefuscu is an island situatcount; wherein one emperor lost his life, ed to the north-east of Lilliput, from which
and another his crown. These civil commo- it is parted only by a channel of eight
tions were constantly fomented by the hundred yards wide. I had not yet seen
monarchs of Blefuscu; and when they ! it, and upon this notice of an intended inwere quelled, the exiles always fled for re- j vasion, I avoided appearing on that side of
fuge to that empire. It is computed that the coast, for fear of being discovered by
eleven thousand persons have at several some of the enemy's ships, who had receivtimes suffered death, rather than submit to ed no intelligence of me; all intercourse bebi eak their eggs at the smaller end. Many tween the two empires having been strictly
hundred large voluines have been published \forbidden during the war, upon pain of
upon this controversy : but the books of death, and an embargo laid by our emperor
the Big-endians have been long forbidden, upon all vessels whatsoever. 1 communiand the whole party rendered incapable by cated to his majesty a project I had formed,
law of holding employments. During the of seizing the enemy's whole fleet; which,
course of these troubles, the emperors of as our scouts assured us, lay at anchor in
Blefuscu did frequently expostulateby their the harbour, ready to sail with the first fair
ambassadors, accusing us of making a wind. I consulted the most experienced
schism in religion, by offending against a seamen upon the depth of the channel,
fundamental doctrine of our great prophet which they had often plumbed; who told
Lustrog, in the fifty-fourth chapter of the me, that in the middle at high-water it
Blundecral, which is their Alcoran. This was seventy glumglgs deep, which is about
however is thought to be a mere strain six feet of European measure; and the rest
upon the text; for the words are these: of it fifty glumglufs at most. I walked to.
that all true believers break their eggs at wards the north-east coast, over against
the convenient end; and which is the con- Blefuscu; where, lying down behind a hilvenient end, seems, in my humble opinion, lock, I took out my small perspective glass,
to be left to every man's conscience, or at and viewed the enemy's fleet at anchor,
least in the power of the chief magistrate
of about fifty men of war, and a
to determine. Now, the Big-endian exiles great number of transports: I then came
have found so much credit in the emperor Iback to my house, and gave orders (for
of Blefuscu's court, and so much private which I had a warrant) for a great quantity
assistance and encouragement from their of the strongest cable and bars of iron.
party here at home, that a bloody war has The cable was about as thick as packthread
been carried on between the two empires and the bars of the length and size of a
for six-and-thirty moons, with various suc- knitting-needle. I trebled the cable to
cess; during which time we have lost forty make it stronger, and for the same reason
capital ships, and a much greater number I twisted three of the iron bars together,
of smaller vessels, together with thirty bending the extremities into a hook. Hay.
thousand of our best seamen and soldiers; ing thus fixed fifty hooks to as many cables,
and the damage received by the enemy is 1 went back to the north-east coast, and
reckoned to be somewhat greater than putting off my coat, shoes, and stockings,
ours. However, they have now equipped walked into the sea, in my leathern jerkin,
a numerous fleet, and are just preparing to about half an hour before high water. I
make a descent upon us; and his imperial waded with what haste I could, and swam
majesty, placing great confidence in your in the middle about thirty yards, till I felt
valour and strength, has commanded me ground. I arrived at the fleet in less than
to lay this account of his affairs before you." half an hour. The enemy was so frighten.I desired the secretary to present my ed when they saw me, that they leaped out
humble duty to the emperor; and to let of their ships, and swam to shore, where
him know, "that I thought it would not there could not be fewer than thirty thou.
become me, who was a foreigner, to inter- sand souls ; I then took my tackling, and,
fere with parties; but I was ready, with fastening a hook to the hole at the prow of
the hazard of my life, to defend his person each, I tied all the cords together at the
and state against all invaders.a"
end. While 1 was thus employed, the
enemy discharged several thousand arrows,

'consisting

" Gulliver, without examining the subject of dis- many of which stuck in my hands and face;
pute, readily engaged todefend the emperor against
beside the excessive smart,
me
invasion ; because he knew that no such monarch
y greathad a right to invade the dominions of another, for much disturbance in my work.
est apprehension was for mine eyes, which
the propagation of truth.-H.

and,

d

i

gave

I should have infa iibly lost, if I had not
P

14

GULLIVER'S TRAVELS.

suddenly thought of an expedient. I kept, into a province, and governing it by a
of viceroy; of destroying the Big-endian
among other little necessaries, a pair
spectacles in a private pocket, which, as I exiles, and compelling that people to break
observed before, had escaped the emperor's the smaller end of their eggs, by which he
searchers. These I took out and fastened would remain the sole monarch of the
as strongly as I could upon my nose, and whole world. But I endeavoured to divert
thus armed, went on boldly with my work, him from this design, by many arguments
in spite of the enemy's arrows, many of drawn from the topics of policy as well as
which struck against the glasses of my justice; and I plainly protested, " that I
spectacles, but without any other effect, would never be an instrument of bringing
further than a little to discompose them. a free and brave people into slavery ;" and,
I had now fastened all the hooks, and, tak- when the matter was debated in council,
ing the knot in my hand, began to pull; the wisest part of the ministry were of my
but not a ship would stir, for they were opinion.
This open bold declaration of mine was
all too fast held by their anchors, so that
the boldest part of my enterprise remained. so opposite to the schemes and politics of
imperial majesty, that he could never
I therefore let go the cord, and leaving the his
hooks fixed to the ships, I resolutely cut forgive me. He mentioned it in a very artwith my knife the cables that fastened the ful manner at council, where I was told
anchors, receiving about two hundred shots that some of the wisest appeared at least
in my face and hands ; then I took up the by their silence, to be of my opinion ; but
knotted end of the cables, to which my others, who were my secret enemies, could
hooks were tied, and with great ease drew not forbear some expressions which by a
fifty of the enemy's largest men of war side-wind reflected on me; and from this
time began an intrigue between his majesty,
after me.
of
The Blefuscudians, who had not the and a junto ministers, maliciously bent
least imagination of what I intended, were against me, which broke out in less than
at first confounded with astonishment. two months, and had like to have ended in
They had seen me cut the cables, and my utter destruction. Of so little weight
thought my design was only to let the ships are the greatest services to princes, when
run adrift or fall foul on each other : but put into the balance with a refusal to gratify
when they perceived the whole fleet mov- their passions.
About three weeks after this exploit,
ing in order, and saw me pulling at the
end, they set up such a scream of grief and there arrived a solemn embassy from Blewith humble offers of a peace ;
despair asit is almost impossible to describe fuscu,
or conceive. When I had got out of dan- t which was soon concluded, upon conditions
ger, I stopped awhile to pick out the ar- very advantageous to our emperor, whererows that stuck in my hands and face; and i with I shall not trouble the reader. There
rubbed on some of the same ointment that were six ambassadors, with a train of about
was given me at my first arrival, as I have five hundred persons : and their entry was
formerly mentioned. I then took off my very magnificent, suitable to the grandeur
spectacles, and waiting about an hour, till of their master, and the importance of their
the tide was a little fallen, I waded through business. When their treaty was finished,
the middle with my cargo, and arrived safe wherein I did them several good offices by
at the royal port of Lilliput.
the credit I now had, or at least appeared
The emperor and his whole courtstooato have, at court, their excellencies, who
on the shore, expecting the issue of this were privately told how much I had been
great adventure. They saw the ships move their friend, made me a visit in form. They
forward in a large half-moon, but could not began with many compliments upon my
discern me, wlho was up to my breast in valour and generosity, invited me to that
water. When I advanced to the middle of kingdom in the enJperst their master's
the channel, they were yet more in pain, name, and desired me to show them some
because 1 was under water to my neck. proofs of my prodigious strength, of which
The emperor concluded me to be drowned, they had heard so many wonders; wherein
and that the enemy's fleet was approaching I readily obliged them, but shall not trouble
in a hostile manner: but he was soon the reader with the particulars.
When I had for some time entertained
eased of his fears; for the channel growingshallower every step I made, I came in their excellencies, to their infinite satis.a short time within hearing, and holding faction and surprise, I desired they would
up the end of the cable, by which the fleet do me the honour to present my most
was fastened, I cried in a loud voice, humble respects to the emperor their master, the renown of whose virtues had so
" Long live the most puissant king of Lilliput!" This great prince received me at justly filled the whole world with admira.
my landing with all possible encomiums, tion, and whose royal person I resolved to
and created me a nardac upon the spot, attend, before I returned to my own counwhich is the highest title of honour among try. Accordingly, the next timeI had the
honour to see our emperor, I desired his
them.
His majesty desired I would take some general license to wait on the Blefuscudian
other opportunity of bringing all the rest monarch, which hlie was pleased to grant
of his enemy's ships into his ports. And me, as I could perceive, in a very cold
so unmeasurable is the ambition of princes, mainner; but could not guessthe reason,
that he seemed to think of nothing less till I had a whisper from a certain person,
than reducing the whole empire of Blefuscu "that Flimnap and Bolgolam had repro

A VOYAGE TO LILLIPUT.
tented my intercourse with those ambassadors as a mark of disaffection;" from
which I am sure my heart was wholly free.
And this was the first time 1 began to
conceive some imperfect idea of courts and
ministers.
It is to be observed, that these ambassa
dors spoke to me by an interpreter, the
languages of both empires differing as
much from each other as any two in
Europe, and each nation priding itself upon the antiquity, beauty, and energy of
their own tongues, with an avowed contempt of that of their neighbour : yet our
emperor, standing upon the advantage he
had got by the seizure of their fleet,
obliged them to deliver their credentials,
and make their speech, in the Lilliputian
tongue. And it must be confessed, that
from the great intercourse of trade and
commerce between both realms, from the
continual reception of exiles which is
mutual among them, and from the custom,
in each empire, to send their young
nobility and richer gentry to thb other, in
order to polish themselves by seeing the
world, and understanding men and manners;there are few persons of distinction,
or merchants, or seamen, who dwell in the
maritime parts, but what can hold conversation in both tongues; as I found some
weeks after, when I went to pay my
respects to the emperor of Blefuscu, which,
in the midst of great misfortunes through

35

as they could: but the flame was so
violent that they did little good. I might
easily have stifled it with my coat, which
I unfortunately left behind me for haste,
and came away only in my leathern jerkin.
The case seemed wholly desperate and
deplorable; and this magnificent palace
would have infallibly been burnt down to
the ground, if, by a presence of mind
unusual to me, I had not suddenly thought
of an expedient. I had, the evening
before, drunk plentifully of a most delicious
wine called glimigrim (the Blefuscudians
call itflunec, but ours is esteemed the better
sort,) which is very diuretic. By the
luckiest chance in the world, I had not
dischargedmyselfofanypartofit. Theheat
1 had contracted by coming very near the
flames, and by labouring to quench them,
made the wine begin to operate by urine :
which I voided in such a quantity, and
applied so well to the proper places, that
in three minutes the fire was wholly extinguished, and the rest of that noble pile,
which had cost so many ages in erecting,
preserved from destruction.
It was now day-light, and I returned to
my house without waiting to congratulate
with the emperor: because, although I had
done a very eminent piece of service, yet
I could not tell how his majesty might
resent the manner by which I had performed it: for, by the fundamental laws of
the realm, it is capital in any person, of

the malice of my enemies, proved a very what quality soever, to make water within
happy adventure to me, as I shall relate the precincts of the palace. But I was a
little comforted by a message from his
in its proper place.
The reader may remember, that when I majesty, "that he would give orders to the
upon which I recover- grand justiciary for passing my pardon in
signed those articles
ed my, liberty, there were some which I form ;" which, however, I could not
disliked, upon account of their being too obtain; and I was privately assured, that
servile; neither could any thing but an the empress, conceiving the greatest ab.
extreme necessity have forced me to sub- horrence of what I had done, removed to
mit. But being now a nardacof the high- the most distant side of the court, firmly
est rank in that empire, such offices were resolved that those buildings should never
looked upon as below my dignity, and the be repaired for her use: and, in the pre.
emperor (to do him justice) never once sence of her chief confidents, could not
mentioned them to me. However, it was forbear vowing revenge.
not long before I had an opportunity of
doing his majesty, at least as I then
thought, a most signal service. I was
CHAPTER V1.
alarmed at midnight with the cries of many
hundred people at my door; by which,
being suddenly awaked, I was in some Qf the inhabitantsof Lilliput; their learnthe manner of
ing, laws,and customs;
kind of terror. I heard the word burglurn
educating their children. The Author's
repeated incessantly: several of the
in
way of living that country. His vindiemperor's court, making their way
cation of a great lady.
through the crowd, entreated me to come
Immediately to the palace, where her
imperial majesty's apartment was on fire, ALTnOUTGH I intend to leave the description
by the carelessness of a maid of honour, of this empire to a particular treatise, yet,
who fell asleep while she was reading a in the mean time, I am content to gratify
romance. 1 got up in an instant ; and the curious reader with some general
orders being given to clear the way before ideas.As the common size of the natives
me, and it being likewise a moonshine is somewhat under six inches high, so
night, I made a shift to get to the palace there is an exact proportion in all other
without trampling on any of the people. I animals, as well as plants and trees; for
found they had already applied ladders to instance, the tallest horses and oxen are
the walls of the apartment, and were well between four and five inches in height,
provided with buckets, but the water was the sheep an inch and half, more or less:
at some distance. These buckets were their geese about the bigness of a sparrow,
about the size of a large thimble, and the and so the several gradations downwards,
poor people supplied me with them as fast till you come to the smallest, which to my

16

GULLIVER'S

TRAVELS.

sight, were almost invisible; but nature undone, and the knave gets the advantage.
has adapted the eyes of the Lilliputians to I remember, when I was once interceding
all objects proper for their view: they see with the king for a criminal who had
xith great exactness, but at no great wronged his master of a great sum of
distance. And, to show the sharpness of money, which he had received by order,
their sight towards objects that are near, I and ran away with; and happening to tell
have been much pleased with observing a his majesty, by way of extenuation, that
cook pulling a lark, which was not so large it was only a breach of trust, the emperor
..s a common fly : and a young girl thread4.ought it monstrous in m: ;o offer as a
iag an invisible needle with invisible silk. defence the greatest aggravation of the
Their tallest trees are about seven feet :crime; and truly I had little to say in
high : I mean some of those in the great Ireturn, farther than the common answer,
royal park, the tops whereof I could but that different nations had different cus.
just reach with my fist clenched. The toms; for, I confess, I was heartily
other vegetables are in the same propor- ashamed.*
tion ; but this I leave to the reader's imagiAlthough we usually call reward and
nation.
punishment the two hinges upon which all
I shall say but little at present of their government turns, yet I could never
learning, which, for many ages, has observe this maxim to be put in practice
flourished in all its branches among them: by any nation, except that of Lilliput.
but their manner of writing is very pecu- Whoever can there bring sufficient proof,
liar, being neither from the left to the that he has strictly observed the laws of
right, like the Europeans; nor from the his country for seventy-three moons, has a
right to the left, like the Arabians; sr claim to certain privileges, according to his
from up to down, like the Chinese; ut quality or condition of life, with a propor.
aslant, from one corner of the paper to the tionable sum of money out of a fmund
other, like ladies :a England.
appropriated for that use : he likewise
They bury their dead with their heads acquires the title of snilpall, or legal, which
directly downward, because they hold an is added to his name, but does not desceni
opinion, that in eleven thousand moons to his posterity. And these people thought
they are all to rise again ; in which period it a prodigious defect of policy among us,
the earth (which they conceive to be flat) when I told them that our laws were
will turn upside down, and by this means enforced only by penalties, without any
they shall, at their resurrection, be found mention of reward. It is upon this account
ready standing on their feet. The learned that the image of Justice, in their courts
among them confess the absurdity of this of judicature, is formed with six eyes, two
doctrine; but the practice still continues, before, as many behind, and on each side
in compliance to the vulgar.
one, to signify circumspection; with a bag
There are some laws and customs in this of gold open in her right hand, and a sword
empire very peculiar; and if they were sheathed in her left, to show she is more
not so directly contrary to those of my disposed to reward than to punish.
own dear country, I should be tempted to
In choosing persons for all employments,
say a little in their justification. It is only they have more regard to good morals
to be wished they were as well executed. than to great abilities; for, since governThe first I shall mention, relates to in- ment is necessary to mankind, they believe
formers. All crimes against the state, are that the common size of human underpunished here with the utmost severity; standing is fitted to some station or other:
but, if the person accused makes his and that Providence never intended to
innocence plainly to appear upon his trial, make the management of public affairs a
the accuser is immediately put to an mystery to be comprehended only by a few
ignominious death; and out of his goods persons of sublime genius, of which there
or lands the innocent person is quadruply seldom are three born in an age: but they
recompensed for the loss of his time, for suppose truth, justice, temperance, and
the danger he underwent, for the hardship the like, to be in every man's power; the
of his imprisonment, and for all the practice of which virtues, assisted by excharges he has been at in making his perience and a good intention, would qualify
defence; or, if that fund be deficient, it is any man for the service of his country,
largely supplied by the crown. The emperor except where a course of study is required.
also confers on him some public mark of But they thought the want of moral virhis favour, and proclamation is made of tues was so far from being supplied by
his innocence through the whole city.
superior endowments of the mind, that
They look upon fraud as a greater crime employments could never be put into such
than theft, and therefore seldom fail to dangerous hands as those o persons so
punish it with death; for they allege, that qualified; and at least, that the mistakes
bare and vigilance, with a very common committed by ignorance, in a virtuous disanderstanding, may preserve a man's position, would never be of such fatal congoods from thieves, but honesty has no i sequence to the public weal, as the pracfence against superior cunning; and since tices of a man, whose inclinations led him
it is necessary that there should be a to be corrupt, and who had great abilities
perpetual intercourse of buying and selling,
An c of pramen has been since paed, y
and dealing upon credit; where fraud is
permitted and connived at, or has no law which acme breachesof trust have bse mald,
to punish it, the honest dealer is always capiml.-ArisaL.

A VOYAGEI

TO LILLIPUT.

17

to manage, to multiply, and defend his corruptions.
In like manner, the disbelief of a Divine
Providence renders a man incapable of
holding any public station; for, since kings
avow themselves to be the deputies of Providence, the Lilliputians think nothing can
be more absurd than for a prince to employ
such men as disown the authority under
which he acts.
In relating these and the following laws,
I would only be understood to mean the
original institutions, and not the most
scandalous corruptions, into which these
people are fallen by the degenerate nature
of man. For, as to that infamous practice
of acquiring great employments by dancing
on the ropes, or badges of favour and distinction by leaping over sticks and creeping
under them, the reader is to observe, that
they were first introduced by the grandfather of the emperor now reigning, and
grew to the present height by the gradual
increase of party and faction.
Ingratitude is among them a capital
crime, as we read it to have been in some
other countries : for they reason thus;
that whoever makes ill returns to his benefactor, must needs be a common enemy
to the rest of mankind, from whom he has
received no obligation, and therefore such
a man is not fit to live.
Their notions relating to the duties of
parents and children, differ extremely from
ours. For, since the conjunction of male
and female is founded upon the great law
of nature, in order to propagate and continue the species, the Lilliputians will
needs have it, that men and women are
joined together, like other animals, by the
motives of concupiscence; and that their
tenderness towards their young proceeds
from the like natural principle; for which
reason, they will never allow that a child is
under any obligation to his father for begetting him, or to his mother for bringing
him into the world; which, considering the
miseries ofhuman life, was neither h benefit
in itself, nor intended so by his parents,
whose thoughts, in their love encounters,
were otherwise employed. Upon these, and
the like reasonings, their opinion is, that
parents are the last of all others to be
trusted with the education of their own
children; and therefore they have in every
town public nurseries, where all parents,
except cottagers and labourers, are obliged
to send their infants of both sexes to be
reared and educated, when they come to
the age of twenty moons, at which time
they are supposed to have some rudiments
of docility. These schools are of several
kinds, suited to different qualities, and both
sexes. They have certain professors well
skilled in preparing children for such a

puties. The clothes and food of the children are plain and simple. They are bred
up in the principles of honour, justice,
courage, modesty, clemency, religion, and
love of their country; they are always em.
ployed in some business, except in the
times of eating and sleeping, which are
very short, and two hours for diversions
consisting of bodily exercises. They are
dressed by men till four years of age, and
then are obliged to dress themselves, although their quality be ever so great; and
the women attendants, who are aged proportionably to ours at fifty, perform only
the most menial offices. They are never
suffered to converse with servants, but go
together in smaller or greater numbers to
take their diversions, and always in the
presence of a professor, or one of his deputies; whereby they avoid those early bad
impressions of folly and vice, to which our
children are subject. Their parents are
suffered to see them only twice a year; the
visit is to last but an hour; they are allowed to kiss the child at meeting and parting; but a professor, who always stands by
on those occasions, will not suffer them to
whisper, or use any fondling expressions,
or bring any presents of toys, sweetmeats,
and the like.
The pension from each family for the
education and entertainment of a child,
upon failure of due payment, is levied by
the emperor's officers.
The nurseries for children of ordinary
gentlemen, merchants, traders, and handicrafts, are managed proportionably after
the same manner; only those designed for
trades are put out apprentices at eleven
years old; whereas those of persons of
quality continue in their exercises till fifteen, which answers to twenty-one with us:
but the confinement is gradually lessened
for the last three years.
In the female nurseries, the young girls
of quality are educated much like the males,
only they are dressed by orderly servants
of their own sex; but always in the presence of a professor or deputy, till they
come to dress themselves, which is at five
years old. And if it be found that these
nurses ever presume to entertain the girls
with frightful or foolish stories, or the common follies practised by chambermaids
among us, they are publicly whipped thrice
about the city, imprisoned for a year, and
bamnished for life to the most desolate part
of the country. Thus the young ladies are
as much ashamed of being cowards and
fools, as the men, and despise all personal
ornaments, beyond decency and cleanhiness: neither did I perceive any difference
in their education made by their difference
of sex, only that the exercises of the females were not altogether so robust; and

condition of life as befits the rank of their

that some rules were given them relating

parents, and their own capacities, as well
as inclinations. I shall first say something
of the male nurseries, and then of the female
S'ihe nurseries for males of noble or eminent birth, are provided -with grave and
learned professors, and their several de.

to domestic life, and a smaller compass of
learning was enjoined them: for their
maxim is, that among people of quality, a
wife should be always a reasonable and
agreeable companion, because she cannot
always be young. When the girls are
twelve years old, which among them is the

18

GULLIER'S

marriageable age, their parents or guardians take them home, with great expressions of gratitude to the professors, and
seldom without tears of the young lady and
her companions.
In the nurseries of females of the meaner
sort, the children are instructed in all
kinds of works proper for their sex, and
their several degrees: those intended for
apprentices are dismissed at seven years
old, the rest are kept to eleven.
The meaner families who have children
at nurseries, are obliged, besides their annual pension, which is as low as possible,
to return to the steward of the nursery a
small monthly share of their gettings, to
be a portion for the child; and therefore
all parents are limited in their expenses by
the law. For the Lilliputians think nothing
can be more unjust, than for people, in
subservience to their own appetites, to
bring children into the world, and leave
the burthen of supporting them on the public. As to persons of quality, they give se.
cvrity to appropriate a certain sum for
each child, suitable to their condition ; and
these funds are always managed with good
husbandry and the most exact justice.
The cottagers and labourers keep their
children at home, their business being only
to till and cultivate the earth, and therefore their education is of little consequence
to the public: but the old and diseased
among theni, are supported by hospitals;
for begging is a trade unknown in this
empire.
And here it may, perhaps, divert the
curious reader, to give some account of my
domestics, and my manner of living in this
country, during a residence of nine months
and thirteen days. Having a head mechanically turned, and being likewise forced
by necessity, I had made for myself a table
and chair convenient enough, out of the
largest trees in the royal park. Two hundred sempstresses were employed to make
me shirts, and linen for my bed and table,
all of the strongest and coarsest kind they
could get; which, however, they were
fo!ced to quilt together in several folds, for
thle thickest was some degrees finer than
lawn. Their linen is usually three inches
wide, and three feet make a piece. The
sempstresses took my measure as I lay on
the ground, one standing at my neck, and
another at my mid-leg, with a strong cord
extended, that each held by the end, while
a third measured the length of the cord
with a rule of an inch long. Then they
measured my right thumb, and desired no
more; for by a mathematical computation,
that twice round the thumb is once round
the wrist, and so on to the neck and the
waist, and by the help of my old shirt,
which 1 displayed on the ground before
them for a pattern, they fitted me exactly'.
Three hundred tailors were employed in
the same manner to make me clothes; but
they had another contrivance for taking
my measure. I kneeled down, and they
raised a ladder from the ground to my
neck; upon this ladder one of them
and
omounted, let fall a plumb-line from my

TRAVELS.
collar to the floor, which just answered the
length of my coat : but my waist and arms
1 measured myself. When my clothes
were finished, which was done in my house
(for the largest of theirs would not have
been able to hold them,) they looked like
the patch-work made by the ladies in
England, only that mine were all of a
colour.
I had three hundred cooks to dress my
victuals, in little convenient huts built
about my house, where they and their families lived, and prepared me two dishes apiece. I took up twenty waiters in my
hand, and placed them on the table: a
hundred more attended below on the
ground, some with dishes of meat, and
some with barrels of wine and other liquors
slung on their shoulders; all which the
waiters above drew up, as I wanted, in a
very ingenious manner by certain cords, as
we draw the bucket up a well in Europe.
A dish of their meat was a good mouthful,
and a barrel of their liquor a reasonable
draught. Their mutton yields to ours,
but their beef is excellent. I have had a
surloin so large, that I have been forced to
make three bits of it; but this is rare. My
servants were astonished to see me eat it,
bones and all, as in our country we do the
leg of a lark. Their geese and turkeys I
usually ate at a mouthful, and I confess
they far exceed ours. Of their smaller
fowl I could take up twenty or thirty at
the end of my knife.
One day his imperial majesty, being informed of my way of living, desired " that
himself and his royal consort, with the
young princes of the blood of both sexes,
might have the happiness," as he was
pleased to call it, ' of dining with me."
They came accordingly, and I placed them
in chairs of state, upon my table, just over
against me, with their guards about them.
Flimnap, the lord high treasurer, attended
there likewise with the white staff; and I
observed he often looked on me with a
sour countenance, which I would not seem
to regard, but ate more than usual, in honour to my dear country, as well as to fill
the court with admiration. I have some
private reasons to believe, that this visit
from his majesty gave Flimnap an oppor.
tunity of doing me ill offices to his master.
That minister had always been my secret
enemy though he outwardly caressed me
more than was usual to the moroseness of
his nature. He represented to the emperor
"the low condition of his treasury; that
he was forced to take up money at a great
discount; that exchequer bills would not
circulate under nine per cent. below par ;
that I had cost his majesty above a million
and a half of sprugs (their greatest gold
coin, about the bigness of a spangle) ; and,
upon the whole, that it would be adviseable in the emperor to take the first fair
occasion of dismissing me."
I am here obliged to vindicate the reputation of an excellent lady, who was an
innocent sufferer upon my account. The
treasurer took a fancy to be jealous of his
wife, from the malice of some evil tongues,

A VOYAGE TO LILLIPUT.
who informed him that her grace had
taken a violent affection for my person :
and the court scandal ran for some time,
that she once came privately to my
lodging. This I solemnly declare to be a
most infamous falsehood, without any
grounds, further than that her grace was
pleased to treat me with all innocent
mars of freedom and friendship. I own
she came often to my house, but always
publicly, nor ever without three more in
the coach, who were usually her sister and
young daughter, and some particular
acquaintance: but this was common to
many other ladies of the court : and I still
appeal to my servants round, whether they
at any time saw a coachat my door, with.
out knowing what persons were in it. On
those occasions, when a servant had given
me notice, my custom was to go immediately to the door; and, after paying my
respects, to take up the coach and two
horses very carefully in my hands (for, if
there were six horses, the postillion always
unharnessed four,) and placed them on a
table, where I had fixed a moveable rim
quite round, of five inches high, to prevent
accidents; and I have often had four
coaches and horses at once on my table,
full of company, while I sat in my chair,
leaning my face towards them; and when
I was engaged with one set, the coachmen
would gently drive the others round my
table. I have passed many an afternoon
very agreeably in these conversations.
But I defy the treasurer or his two informers (I will name them, and let them
make the best of it) Clustril and Drunlo,
to prove that any person ever came to me
incognito,
except the secretary Reldresal,
who was sent by express command of his
Imperial majesty, as I have before related.
I should not have dwelt so long upon this
particular, if it had not been a point
wherein the reputation of a great lady is
so nearly concerned, to say nothing of my
own; though I had then the honour to
be a nardac, which the treasurer himself
is not; for all the world kno'ss, that he is
only a glumglum, a title inferior by one
degree, as that of a marquis is to a duke in
England; yet 1 allow he preceded me in
right of his post. These false informations,
which I afterwards came to the knowledge
of by an accident not proper to mention,
made the treasurer show his lady for some
time an ill countenance, and me a worse;
and although he was at last undeceived
and reconciled to her, yet I lost all credit
with him, and found my interest decline
very fast with the emperor himself, who
was, indeed, too much governed by that
favourite,

19

to inform the reader of a private intrigue
which had been for two months forming
against me.
I had been hitherto, all my life, a
stranger to courts, for which I was un.
qualified by the meanness of my condition.
I had indeed heard and read enough of the
dispositions of great princes and ministers;
but never expected to have found such
terrible effects of them, in so remote a
country, governed, as I thought, by very
different maxims from those in Europe.
When I was just preparing to pay my
attendance on the emperor of Blefuscu,
a
considerable person at court (to whom I
had been very serviceable, at a time when
he lay under the highest displeasure of his
imperial majesty) came to my house very
privately at night, in a close chair, and,
without sending his name, desired admittance. The chairmen were dismissed; I
put thechair, with his lordship in it, into ray
coat-pocket: and, giving orders to a trusty
servant, say I was indisposed and gone
to
to sleep, I fastened the door of my house,
placed the chair on the table, according to
my usual custom, and sat uown by it.
After the common salutations were over,
observing his lordship's countenance full
of concern, and inquiring into the reason,
he desired "I would hear him with
patience, in a matter that highly concerned
my honour and my life." His speech was
to the following effect, for I took notes of
it as soon as he left me.
"You are to know," said he, "that
several committees of council have been
lately called, in the most private manner,
on your account; and it is but two days
since his majesty came to a full resolution.
"You are very sensible that Skyresh
Bolgolam (galbet, or high-admiral) has
been your mortal enemy, almost ever since
your arrival. His original reasons I know
not; but his hatred is increased since
your great success against Blefuscu, by
which his glory as admiral is much ohscured. This lord, in conjunction with
Flimnap the high-treasurer, whose enmity
against you is notorious on account of his
lady, Limtoc the general, Lalcon the
chamberlain, and Balmuff the grand justiciary, have prepared articles of impeachment against you, for treason and other
capital crimes."
This preface made me so impatient,
being conscious of my own merits and
innocence, that I was going to interrupt
him; when he entreated me to be silent,
and thus proceeded.
" Out of gratitude for the favours you
have dune me, I procured information of
the whole proceedings, and a copy of the
articles; wherein I venture my head for
your service.

CHAPTER VII.
The uthor,
being
informed a design ARTICLES OF IMPEACHMENT Aof
to
QUINBUS IFLESTRIN,
makes his GAINS
accuse him of high-treason,
MAN-MOUNTAIN.
escape to Blefuscu. His reception there.
ARTICLE I.
BEFORE I proceed to give an account of
my leaving this kingdom, it may be proper I" Whereas, by a statute made in the

THE

20

GULLIVER'S TRAVELS.

reign of his imperial majesty Calin Deffar
Plune, it is enacted, that, whoever shall
make water within the precincts of the
royal palace, shall be liable to the pains
and penalties of high-treason; notwithstanding the said Quinbus Flestrin, in
open breach of the said. law, under colour
of extinguishing the fire kindled in the
apartment of his majesty's most dear imperial consort, did maliciously, traitorously, and devilishly, by discharge of
his urine, put out the said fire kindled in
the said apartment, lying and being within
the precincts of the said royal palace,
against the statute in that case provided,
etc against the duty, etc.
ARTICLE II.
" That the said Quinbus Flestrin, having
brought the imperial fleet of Blefuscu
into the royal port, and being afterwards
commanded by his imperial majesty to
seize all the other ships of the said empire
of Blefuscu, and reduce that empire to a
province, to be governed by a viceroy
from hence, and to destroy and put to
death, not only all the Big-endian exiles,
but likewise all the people of that empire
who would not immediately forsake the
Big-endian heresy; he, the said Flestrin,
like a false traitor against his most
auspicious, serene, imperial majesty, did
petition to be excused from the said
service, upon pretence of unwillingness to
force the consciences, or destroy the
iberties and lives of an innocent people.*
ARTICLEIII.
"That, whereas certain ambassadors
arrived from the court of Blefuscu, to sue
for peace in his majesty's court: he, the
said Flestrin, did, like a false traitor, aid,
abet, comfort, and divert, the said ambassadors, although he knew them to be
servants to a prince who was lately an
open enemy to his imperial majesty, and
in an open war against his said majesty.

I

.

ARTL
ARTICLE IV.
"That the said Quinbus Flestrin, conto the duty of a faithful subject, is
trary
now preparing to make a voyage to the
court and empire of Blefuscu, for which
he has received only verbal license from
his imperial majesty ; and under colour of
the said license, does falsely and traitorously intend to take the said voyage, and
thereby to aid, comfort, and abet the
emperor of Blefuscu, so lately an enemy,
and in open war with his imperial majest
aforesaid.

articles;

but
"There are some other
which I
these are te most strat
thave red the a important, of w
have read you an abstract.
e A lawyer thinks himself honest, if he does the
best he can for his client ; and a statesman, if he
here inculcates a higher notion of right and wrong,
Ad obligations to a larger community.-H.

;

In the several debates upon this impeachment, it must be confessed that his
majesty gave many marks of his great
lenity; often urging the services you had
done him, and endeavourmg to extenuate
your crimes. The treasurer and admiral
insisted that you should be put to the most
painful and ignominious death, by setting
fire to your house at night; and the
general was to attend with twenty thousand
men, armed with poisoned arrows, to shoot
you on the face and hands. Some of your
servants were to have private orders to strew
a poisonous juice on your shirts and sheets,
which would soon make you tear your own
flesh, and die in the utmost torture. The
general came into the same opinion ; so
that for a long time there was a majority
against you; but his majesty resolving, if
possible, to spare your life, at last brought
offthe chamberlain.
" Upon this incident, Redresal, principal secretary for private affairs, who always
approved himself your true friend, was
commanded by the emperor to deliver his
opinion, which he accordingly did ; and
therein justified the good thoughts you
have of him. He allowed your crimes to
be great, but that still there was room for
mercy, the most commendable virtue in a
prince, and for which his majesty was so
justly celebrated. He said, the friendship
between you and him was so well known
to the world, that perhaps the most honourable board might think him partial:
however, in obedience to the command he
had received, he would freely offer his
sentiments. That if his majesty, in consideration of your services, and pursuant
to his own merciful disposition, would
please to spare your life, and only give
orders to put out both your eyes, he humbly
conceived, that by this expedient justice
might in some measure be satisfied, and
all the world would applaud the lenity of
the emperor, as well as the fair and
generous proceedings of those who have
the honour to be his counsellors. That
the loss of your eyes would be no impediment to your bodily strength, by which
you might still be useful to his majesty:
that blindness is an addition to courage,
by concealing dangers from us: that the
fear you had for your eyes, was the greatest
difficulty in bringing over the enemy's
fleet, and it would be sufficient for you to
see by the eyes of the ministers, since the
greatest princes do no more.
"This proposal was received with the
utmost disapprobation by the whole board.
Bolgolam the admiral could not preserve
his temper, but rising up in fury, said, he
wondered how the secretary durst presume
to give his opinion for preserving the life
cf a traitor: that the services you had
performed were, by all true reasons of
state, the great aggravation of your crimes ;
that you, who was able to extinguish the
fire by discharge of urine in her majesty's
apartment (which he mentioned with
horror), might, at another time, raise an
inundation by the same means, to drown

A VOYAGE TO LILLIPUT.
the whole palace; and the same strength,
which enabled you to bring over the
enemy's fleet, might serve, upon the first
discontent, to carry it back : that he had
good reasons to think you were a Big-endian in your heart; and as treason begins in
the heart, before it appears in overt-acts, so
he accused you as a traitor on that account,
and therefore insisted you should be put to
death.
" The treasurer was of the same opinion :
he showed to what straits his majesty's
revenue was reduced, by the charge of
maintaining you, which would soon grow
insupportable; that the secretary's expedient of putting out your eyes, was so
far from being a remedy against this evil,
that it would probably increase it, as is
manifest from the common practice of
blinding some kind of fowls, after which
they fed the faster, and grew sooner fat ;
that his sacred majesty and the council,
who are your judges, were, in their own
consciences, fully convinced of your guilt,
which was a sufficient argument to condemn
you to death, without the formal proofs
required by the strict letter of the law.*
But his imperial majesty, fully deternined against capital punishment, was
raciously pleased to say, that since the
ouncil thought the loss of your eyes too
'asy a censure, some other way may be
inflicted hereafter. And your friend the
secretary, humbly desiring to be heard
again, in answer to what the treasurer had
objected, concerning the great charge his
majesty was at in maintaining you, said,
that his excellency, who had the sole
disposal of the emperor's revenue, might
easily provide against that evil, by gradually lessening your establishment; by which,
for
want of sufficient food, you will grow
weak and faint, and lose your appetite,
and consume in a few months; neither
would the stench of your carcass be then
so dangerous, when it should become more
than half diminished; and immediately
upon your death five or six thousand of his
majesty's subjects might, in two or three
days, cut your flesh from your bones, take
it away by cart-loads, and bury it in distant
parts to prevent infection, leaving the
skeleton as a monument of admiration to
posterity.
"Thus, by the great friendship of the
secretary, the whole affair was compromised. Itwas strictly enjoined, that the
project of starving you by degrees should
be kept a secret; but the sentence of
putting out your eyes was entered on the
books; none dissenting, except Bolgolam
the admiral, who, being a creature of the
There is something so odious in whatever is
wrong, that even those whom it does notsubject to
it
punishment, endeavour to colour with an appearance of right; but the attempt is always
unsuccessful, and onlybetrays a consciousness of
deformity by showing a desire to hide it. Thus
court
te Lilliputian pretended a right todispense
Arth the strict letter of the law toput Gulliver to
death, though by the strict letter of the law only
of
of
he could convicted a crime; the intention
hbe
the statute notbeing to suffer the palace rather to
ae burntthan pissed upon..- .

empress, was perpetually instigated by her
majesty to insist upon your death, she
having borne perpetual malice against you,
on account of that infamous and illegal
method you took to extinguish the fire in
her apartment.
" In three days your friend the secretary
will be directed to come to your house,
and read before you the articles of impeachment; and then to signify the great
lenity and favour of his majesty and
council, whereby you are only condemned
to the loss of your eyes, which his majesty
does not question you will gratefully and
humbly submit to; and twenty of his
majesty's surgeons will attend, in order to
see the operation well performed, by
discharging very sharp-pointed arrows
into the balls of your eyes, as you lie on
the ground.
" I leave to your prudence what measures
you will take; and to avoid suspicion, I
must immediately return in as private a
manner as I came."
His lordship did so; and I remained
alone, under many doubts and perplexities
of mind.
It was a custom introduced by this
prince and his ministry (very different, as
I have been assured, from the practice of
former times,) that after the court had
decreed any cruel execution, either to
gratify the monarch's resentment, or the
malice of a favourite, the emperor always
made a speech to his whole council, expressing his great lenity and tenderness, as
qualities known and confessed by all the
world. This speech was immediately
published throughout the kingdom; nor
did any thing terrify the people so much,
as those encomiums on his majesty's
mercy; because it was observed, that the
more these praises were enlarged and
insisted on, the more inhuman was the
punishment, and the sufferer more innocent. Yet, as to myself, I must confess,
havipg never been designed for a courtier,
either by my birth or education, I was so
ill a judge of things, that I could not discover the lenity and favour of this sentence, but conceived it (perhaps erroneously) rather to be rigorous than gentle. I
sometimes thought of standing my trial,
for, although I could not deny the facts
alleged in the several articles, yet I hoped
they would admit of some extenuation.
But having in my life perused many state.
trials, which I ever observed to terminate as the judges thought fit to direct, I
durst not rely on so dangerous a decision,
in so critical a juncture, and against such
powerful enemies. Once, I was strongly
bent upon resistance; for, while I had
liberty, the whole strength of that empire
could hardly subdue me, and I might easily
with stones pelt the metropolis to pieces;
but I soon rejected that project with horror, by remembering the oath I had made
to the emperor, the favours 1 receives
from him, and the high title of nardac he
conferred upon me. Neither had I su
soon learned the gratitude of courtiers, to
persuade myself, that his majesty's present

22

GULLIVER'S TRAVELS.

severities acquitted me of all past obligations.
CHAPTER VIII.
At last, I fixed upon a resolution, for
which it is probable I may incur some The Author, by a lucky accident,findsmeans
censure, and not unjustly; for I confess I
to leave Blefuscu and after some dif?;
owe the preserving of mine eyes, and
culties, returnssafe to his native country.
consequently my liberty, to my own great
rashness and want of experience ; because, THREE days after my arrival, walking out
if I had then known the nature of princes of curiosity to the north-east coast of the
and ministers, which I have since observed island, I observed, about half a league off
in many othercourts, and their methods of in the sea, somewhat that looked like a
treating criminals less obnoxious than my- boat overturned. I pulled off my shoes
self, I should, with great alacrity and and stockings, and, wading two or three
readiness, have submitted to so easy a hundred yards, I found the object to
punishment. But hurried on by the pre- approach nearer by force of the tide: and
cipitancy of youth, and having his imperial then plainly saw it to be a real boat, which
majesty's license to pay my attendance I supposed might by some tempest have
upon the emperor of Blefuscu, I took this been driven from a ship : whereupon I
opportunity, before the three days were returned immediately towards the city,
me
elapsed, to send a letter to my friend the and desired his imperial majesty to lend
secretary, signifying my resolution of twenty of the tallest vessels le had left,
setting out that morning for Blefuscu, after the loss of his fleet, and three thoupursuant to the leave I had got; and, sand seamen, under the command of his
without waiting for an answer, I went to vice-admiral.
This fleetsailed round,
that side of the island where our fleet lay. while I went back the shortest way to the
I seized a large man of war, tied a cable to coast, where I first discovered the boat. I
the prow, and, lifting up the anchors, I found the tide had driven it still nearer.
stripped myself, put my clothes (together The seamen were all provided with cordage,
with my coverlet, which I carried under which I had beforehand twisted to a sufmy arm) into the vessel, and, drawing it ficient strength. When the ships came up,
after me, between wading and swimming I stripped myself, and waded till I came
arrived at the royal port of Blefuscu, where within a hundred yards off the boat, after
the people had long expected me : they which I was forced to swim till I got up to
lent me two guides to direct me to the it. The seamen threw me the end of the
capital city, which is of the same name. cord, which I fastened to a hole in the
I held them in my hands, till I came fore-part of the boat, and the other end to
within two hundred yards of the gate, and a man of war; but I found all my labour
desired them " to signify my arrival to to little purpose; for, being out of my
one of the secretaries, and let him know, I depth, I was not able to work. In this
there waited his majesty's command." I necessity I was forced to swim behind, and
had an answer in about an hour, " that his push the boat forward, as often as I could,
majesty, attended by the royal family, and with one of my hands; and the tide favour
great officers of the court, was coming out ing me, I advanced so far that I could
to receive me." I advanced a hundred just hold up my chin and feel the ground.
yards. The emperor and his train alighted I rested two or three minutes, and then
from their horses, the empress and ladies gave the boat another shove, and so on,
from their coaches, and I did not perceive till the sea was no higher than my arm.
they were in any fright or concern. I lay pits; and now the most laborious part
on the ground to kiss his majesty's and being over, I took out my other cables
the empress's hands. I told his majesty, which were stowed in one of the ships,
"that I was come according to my pro- and fastened them first to the boat, and
mise, and with the license of the emperor then to nine of the vessels which attended
my master, to have the honour of seeing so me; the wind being favourable, the seamighty a monarch, and to offer him any men towed and I shoved until we arrived
service in my power, consistent with my within forty yards of the shore; and wait.
duty to my own prince;" not mentioning ing till the tide was out, I got dry to the
a word of my disgrace, because I had I boat, and by the assistance of two thousand
hitherto no regular information of it, and men, with ropes and engines, I made a
might suppose myself wholly ignorant of shift to turn it on its bottom, and found it
any such design; neither could I reasona- was but little damaged.
1 shall not trouble the reader with the
bly conceive that the emperor would discover the secret, while I was out of his difficulties I was under, by the help of
power; wherein, however, it soon appeared certain paddles, which cost me ten days
making, to get my boat to the royal port
I was deceived,
I shall not trouble the reader with the of Blefusco, where a mighty concourse of
particular account of my reception at this people appeared upon my arrival, full of
court, which was suitable to the generosity wonder at the sight of so prodigious a
of so great a prince; nor ofthe difficulties vessel. I told the emperor "that my good
I was in for want of a house and bed, fortune had thrown this boat in my way,
being forced to lie on the ground, wrapped to carry me to some place whence I might
return into my native country; and begged
up in my coverlet.
his majesty's orders for getting materials
to fit it up, together with his license to

A VOYAGE TO LILLIPUT.
depart;" which, after some kind expostu-have me gone, very readily contributed.
lations, he was pleased to grant.
Five hundred workmen were employed to
I did very much wonder, in all this time, make two sails to my boat, according to my
not to have heard of any express relating directions, by quilting thirteen folds of
to me from our emperor to the court of their strongest linen together. I was at
Blefuscu.
But I was afterward given the pains of making ropes and cables, by
privately to understand, that his imperial twisting ten, twenty, or thirty, of the
majesty, never imagining I had the least thickest and strongest of theirs. A great
notice of his designs, believed I was only stone that I happened to find, after a long
gone to Blefuscu in performance of my ;earch, by the sea-shore, served me for an
promise, according to the license he had anchor. I had the tallow of three hundred
given me, which was well known at our cows,
for
greasing my boat, and other uses.
court, and would return in a few days, I was at incredible pains in cutting down
when the ceremony was ended. But he some of the largest timber-trees, for oars
was at last in pain at my long absence; and masts, wherein I was, however, much
and after consulting with the treasureraid assisted by his majesty's ship-carpenters,
the rest of that cabal, a person of quality who helped me in smoothing them, after I
was dispatched with the copy of the articles had done the rough work.
against me. This envoy had instructions
In about a month, when all was pre.
to represent to the monarch of Blefuscu, pared, I sent to receive his majesty's com.
'" the great lenity of his master, who was mands, and to takemy leave. The emperor
content to punish me no farther than with and royal family came out of the palace; I
the loss of mine eyes; that I had fled lay down on my face to kiss his hand,
from justice; and if I did not return in which he very graciously gave me: so did
two hours, I should be deprived of my title the empress and young princes of the
of nardac, and declared a traitor." The blood. His majestypresentedmewith fifty
envoy further added, "that in order to purses of two hundred sprugs a-piece,
maintain the .peace and amity between together with his picture at full length,
both empires, his master expected that his which I put immediately into one of my
brother of Blefuscu would give orders to gloves, to keep it from being hurt. The
have me sent back to Lilliput, bound hand ceremonies at my departure were too
and foot, to be punished as a traitor."
many to trouble the reader with at this time.
The emperor of Blefuscu, having taken
I stored the boat with the carcases of a
three days to consult, returned an answer hundred oxen, and three hundred sheep,
consisting of many civilities and excuses. with bread and drinkproportionable, and
He said, "that as for sending me bound, as much meat ready dressed as four hun.
his brother knew it was impossible : that dred cooks could provide. I took with me
although I had deprived him of his fleet, six cows and two bulls alive, with as many
yet he owed great obligations to me for ewes and rams, intending to carry them
many good offices 1 had done him in into my own country, and propagate the
making the peace. That, however, both breed; and to feed them on board, I had a
their majesties would soon be made easy; good bundle of hay, and a bag of corn. I
for I had found a prodigious vessel on the would gladly have taken a dozen of the
shore, able to carry me on the sea, which natives, but this was a thing the emperor
he had given orders to fit up, with my own would by no means permit ; and, besides
assistance and direction; and he hoped, in a diligent search into my pockets, his
a few weeks, both empires would be freed majesty engaged my honour " not to carry
from so insupportable an encumbrance."
away any of his subjects, although with
With this answer the envoy returned to their own consent and desire."
Lilliput; and the monarch of Blefuscu
Having thus prepared all things as well
related to me all that had passed; offering as I was able, I set sail on the twenty.
me at the same time (but under the strict- fourth day of September 1701, at six in the
est confidence) his gracious protection, if morning; and when I had gone about four
I would continue in his service; wherein leagues to the northward, the wind being
although I believed him sincere, yet I at south-east at six in the evening, I
resolved never more to put any confidence descried a small island, about half a
in princes or ministers, where I could league to the north-west. I advanced for,
possibly avoid it; and therefore, with all ward, and cast anchor on the lee-side of
due acknowledgments for his favourable the island, which seemed to be uninintentions, I humbly begged tobe excused. habited. I then took some refreshment,
I told him, "that since fortune, whether and went to my rest. I slept well, and as
good or evil, had thrown a vessel in my I conjecture at least six hours, for I found
way, I was resolved to venture myself on the day broke in two hours after I awaked.
the ocean, rather than be an occasion of It was a clear night. I ate my breakfast
difference between two such mighty mnon- before the sun was up; and heaving
archs." Neither did I find the emperor al anchor the wind being favourable, I
all displeased; and I discovered by a cer- sieered the same course that I had done
tain
accident, that he was very glad of my the day before, wherein I was directed by
resolution, and so were most of his minis- my pocket compass. My intention was to
ters.
reach, if possible, one of those islands
These considerations moved me to hasten which I had reason to believe lay to the
my departure somewhat sooner
than I in- north-east of Van Diemen's Land. I
tended; to which the court, impatient to discovered nothing all that day; but upon

24

GULLIVER'S TRAVELS.

.he next, about three in the afternoon,
when I had by my computation made
Lwenty-four leagues from Blefuscu, I descried a sail steering to the south-east; my
course was due east. I hailed her, but
could get no answer; yet I found I gained
upon her, for the wind slackened. I made
all the sail I could, and in half an hour
she spied me, then hung out her ancient
and discharged a gun. It is not easy to
express the joy I was in, upon the unexpected hope of once more seeing my beloved
country, and the dear pledges I left in it.
The ship slackened her sails, and I came
up with her between five and six in the
evening, September 26th; but my heart
leaped within me to see her English
colours. I put my cows and sheep into my
coat-pocket, and got on board with all my
little cargo of provisions. The vessel was
an English merchantman, returning from
Japan by the North and South seas; the
captain, Mr. John Biddel of Deptford, a
very civil man, and an excellent sailor.
We were now in the latitude of 30
degrees south; there were about fifty men
in the ship; and here I met an old comrade
of mine, one Peter Williams, who gave
me a good character to the captain. This
gentleman treated me with kindness, and
esired I would let him know what place
I came from last, and whither I was
bound; which I did in a few words, but he
thought I was raving, and that the dangers
I had underwent had disturbed my head ;
whereupon I took my black cattle and
sheep out of my pocket, which, after great
astonishment, clearly convinced him of my
veracity. I then showed him the gold
given me by the emperor of Blefuscu,
together with his majesty's picture at full
length, and some other rarities of that
country. I gave him two purses of two
hundred sprzugs each, and promised, when
we arrived in England, to make him a present of a cow anid a sheep big with young.
I shall not trouble the reader with a
particular account of this voyage, which
was very prosperous for the most part.
We arrived in the Downs on the 13th of

April, 1702. I had only one misfortune,
that the rats on board carried away one of
my sheep; I found her bones in a hole,
picked clean from the flesh. The rest of
my cattle I got safe ashore, and set them
a-grazing in a bowling-green at Greenwich,
where the fineness of the grass made them
feed very heartily, though I had always
feared the contrary : neither could 1 possibly have preserved them in so long a
voyage, if the captain had not allowed me
some of his best biscuit, which, rubbed to
powder, and mingled with water, was their
constant food. The short time I continued
in England, I made a considerable profit
by showing my cattle to many persons of
quality and others: and before I began my
second voyage, I sold them for six hundred
pounds. Since my last return I find the
breed is considerably increased, especially
the sheep, which I hope will prove much
to the advantage of the woollen manufacture, by the fineness of the fleeces.
I stayed but two months with my wife
and family, for my insatiable desire of
seeing foreign countries, would suffer me
to continue no longer. I left fifteen hundred pounds with my wife, and fixed her
in a good house at Redriff. My remaining
stock I carried with me, part in money
and part in goods, in hopes to improve my
fortunes. My eldest uncle John had left
me an estate in land, near Epping, of
about thirty pounds a-year; and I had a
long lease of the Black Bull in FetterLane, which yielded me as much more ;
so that I was not in any danger of leaving
my family upon the parish. My son
Johnny, named so after his uncle, was at
the grammar-school, and a towardly child.
My daughter Betty (who is now well mar.
ried, and has children) was then at her
needle-work. I took leave of my wife,
and boy and girl, with tears on both sides,
and went on board the Adventure, a merchant-ship of three hundred tons, bound
for Surat, captain John Nicholas, of
Liverpool, commander. But my account
of this voyage must be referred to the
second part of my travels.

A

VOYAGE TO BROBDINGNAG.

PART

CHAPTER I.
A great storm described; the long boat sent
to fetch water ; the Author goes with it to
discover the country. He is left on shore,
is seized nby of the natives, and carried
one
to a farmer's house. His reception, with
several accidents that happened there. A
description of the inhabitants.
HAVING been condemned, by nature and
fortune, to active and restless life, in two
months after my return, I again left my
native country, and took shipping in the
Downs, on the 29th day of June, 1702, in
the Adventure, Captain John Nicholas, a
Cornish man,, commander, bound for
Surat. We had a very prosperous gale,
till we arrived at the Cape of Good Hope,
where we landed for fresh water; but
discovering a leak, we unshipped our goods,
and wintered there; for the captain falling
sick of an ague, we could not leave the
Cape till the end of March. We then set
sail, and had a good voyage till we passed
the Straits of Madagascar; but having got
northward of that island, and to about five
degrees south latitude, the winds, which
in those seas are observed to blow a constant equal gale between the north and
west, from the beginning of December to
the beginning of May, on the 19th of
April began to blow with much greater
violence, and more westerly than usual,
continuing so for twenty days together:
during which time, we were driven a little
to the east of the Molucca Islands, and
about three degrees northward of the line,
as our captain found by an observation he
took the 2d of May, at which time the
wind ceased, and it was a perfect calm,
whereat I was not a little rejoiced. But
he, being a man well experienced in the
navigation of those seas, bid us all prepare
against a storm, which accordingly happened the day following : for the southern

II.

wind, called the southern monsoon, began
to set in.
Finding it was likely to overblow, we
took in our sprit-sail, and stood by to hand
the fore-sail ; but, making foul weather,
we looked the guns were all fast and handed the mizen. The ship lay very broad
off, so we thought it better spooning before
the sea, than trying or hulling. We reefed
the fore-sail and set him, and hauled aft the
fore-sheet; the helm was hard a-weather.
The ship wore bravely. We belayed the
fore down-haul; but the sail was split, and
we hauled down the yard, and got the sail
into the ship, and unbound all the things
clear of it. It was a very fierce storm ;
the sea broke strange and dangerous. We
hauled oft upon the laniard of the whipstaff, and helped the man at the helm.
We would not get down our top-mast, but
let all stand, because she scudded before
the sea very well, and we knew that the
top-mast being aloft, the ship was the
wholesomer, and made better way through
the sea, seeing we had sea-room. When
the storm was over, we set fore-sail and.
main-sail, and brought the ship to. Then
we set the mizen, main-top-sail, and the
fore top.sail. Our course was east-north.
east, the wind was at south-west. We got
the starboard tacks aboard, we cast off our
weather-braces and lifts; we set in the leebraces, and hauled forward by the weatherbowlings, and hauled them tight, and belayed them, and hauled over the mizen
tack to windward, and kept her full and by
as near as she would lie.
During this storm, which was followed
by a strong wind west-south-west, we were
carried, by my computation, about five
hundred leagues to the east, so that the
oldest sailor on board could not tell in what
part of the world we were. Ourprovisions
held out well, our ship was staunch, and
our crew all in good health; but we lay in
the utmost distress for water. We thought

26

GULLIVER S TRAVELS.

it best to hold on the same course, rather
than turn more northerly, which might
have brought us to the north west part of
Great Tartary, and into the Frozen Sea.
On the 16th day of June, 1703, a boy on
the top-mast discovered land. On the 17th,
we came in full view of a great island, or
continent (for we knew not whether;) on
the south side whereof was a small neck of
land jutting out into the sea, and a creek
too shallow to hold a ship of above one
hundred tons. We cast anchor within a
league of this creek, and our captain sent
a dozen of his men well armed in the longboat, with vessels for water if any could
be found. I desired his leave to go with
them, that I might see the country, and
make what discoveries I could. When we
came to land, we saw no river or spring,
nor any sign of inhabitants. Our men
therefore wandered on the shore to find
out some fresh water near the sea, and I
walked alone about a mile on the other
side, where I observed the country all
barren and rocky. I now began to be
weary, and seeing nothing to entertain my
curiosity, I returned gently down towards
creek; and the sea being full in my
view, I saw our men already got into the
boat, and rowing for life to the ship. I
was going to holla after them, although it
had been to little purpose, when I observed
a huge creature walking after them in the
sea, as fast as he could: he waded not
much deeper than his knees, and took prodigious strides : but our men had thestart
of him half a league, and, the sea thereabouts being full sharp.lointed rocks,
of
the monster was not able to overtake the
boat. This I was afterwards told, for I
durst not stay to see the issue of the adventure; but ran as fast as I could the way I
first went, and then climbed up a steep
hill,
which gave me some prospect of the
country. I found it fully cultivated; but
that which first surprised me was the length
of the grass, which, in those grounds that
seemed to be kept for hay, was about
twenty feet high.
I fell into high
a
road, for so I took it to
be, though it served to the inhabitants
only as a foot-path through field of bara
ley. Here I walked on for some time, but
could see little on either side, it being now
near harvest, and the corn rising at least
forty feet. I was an hour walking to the
end of this field, which was fenced in with
a hedge of at least one hundred and twenty
feet high, and the trees so lofty that I could
make no computation of their altitude.
There was a stile to pass from this field
into the next. It had four steps, and a
stone to cross over when you came to the
uppermost. It was impossible for me to
climb this stile, because every step was six
feet high, and the upper stone about
twenty. I was endeavouring to find some
gap in the hedge, when I discovered one
of the inhabitants in the next field, advaneing towards the stile, of the same size with
him whom I saw in the sea pursuing our
boat.He appeared as tall as an ordinary
spire steeple, and took about ten yards at

the

every stride, as near as I could guess. I
was struck with the utmost fear and astonishment, and ran to hide myself in the
corn, whence I saw him at the top of the
the
stile looking back into next field on the
right hand, and heard him call in a voice
many degrees louder than a speaking.trumpet : but the noise was so high in the air,
that at first I certainly thought it was
thunder. Whereupon seven monsters,
like himself, came towards him with reaping-hooks in their hands, each hook about
thelargeness of six scythes. These people
were not so well clad as the first, whose
servants or labourers they seemed to be;
for, upon some words he spoke, they went
to reap the corn in the field where I lay.
I kept from them at as great a distance as
I could, but was forced to move with extreme difficulty, for the stalks of the corn
were sometimes not above a foot distant,
so that I could hardly squeeze my body
betwixt them. However I made a shift
to go forward, till I came to a part of the
field where the corn had been laid by the
rain and wind. Here it was impossible for
me to advance a step ; for the stalks were
so interwoven, that I could not creep
through, and the beards of the fallen ears
so strong and pointed, that they pierced
through my clothes into my flesh. At the
same time I heard the reapers not above a
hundred yards behind me. Being quite
dispirited with toil, and wholly overcome
by grief and despair, I lay down between
two ridges, and heartily wished I might
there end my days. I bemoaned my desolate widow and fatherless children. I
lamented my own folly and wilfulness, in
attempting a second voyage, against the
advice of all my friends and relations. In
this terrible agitation of mind, I could not
forbear thinking of Lilliput, whose inhabitants looked upon me as the grea'est prodigy that ever appeared in the world;
where I was able to draw an imperial fleet
in my hand, and perform those other
actions, which will be recorded for ever in
the chronicles of that empime, while pos.
terity shall hardly believe them, although
attested by millions. I reflected what a
mortification it must prove to me, to appear as inconsiderable in this nation, as
one single Lilliputian would be among us.
But this I conceived was to be the least of
my misfortunes; for, as human creatures
are observed to be more savage and cruel
in proportion to their bulk, what could I
expect but to be a morsel in the mouth of
the first among these enormous barbarians
that should happen to seize me? Undoubtedly philosophers are in the right, when
they tell us that nothing is great or little
otherwise than by comparison. It might
have pleased fortune, to have let the
Lilliputians find some nation, where the
people were as diminutive with respect to
them, asthey were to me. And who knows
but that even this prodigious race of mor.
tais might be equally overmatched in some
distant part of the world, whereof we have
yet no discovery.
Scared and confounded as I was, I could

A VOYAGE TO BROBDINGNAG.

27

not forbear going on with these reflections, ever seen in the fields any little creature
when one of the reapers, approaching that resembled me ?" He then placed me
within ten yards of the ridge where I was softly on the ground upon all fours, but I
made me apprehend that with the next got immediately up, and walked slowly
step I should be squashed to death under backward and forward, to let those people
his foot, or cut in two with his reaping- i see I had no intent to run away. They all
hook. And therefore, when he was again sat down in a circle about me, the better
about to move, I screamed as loud as fear to observe my motions. I pulled off my
could make me : whereupon the huge hat, and made a low bow towards the
creature trod short, and, looking round farmer. I fell on my knees, and lifted up
about under him for some time, at last my hands and eyes, and spoke several
espied me as I lay on the ground. He words as loud as I could: I took a purse
considered awhile, with the caution of one of gold out of my pocket, and humbly prewho endeavours to lay hold on a small sented it to him. He received it on the
dangerous animal in such a manner that palm of his hand, then applied it close to
it shall not be able either to scratch or bite his eye to see what it was, and afterwards
him, as I myself have sometimes done turned it several times with the point of a
with a weasel in England. At length he pin (which he took out of his sleeve,) but
ventured to take me behind, by the middle, could make nothing of it. Whereupon 1
between his fore-finger and thumb, and made a sign that he should place his hand
brought me within three yards of his eyes, on the ground. 1 then took the purse, and,
that he might behold my shape more per- opening it, poured all the gold into his
fectly. I guessed his meaning, and my palm. There were six Spania pieces of
good fortune gave me so much presence of four pistoles each, beside twenty or thirty
mind, that 1 resolved not to struggle in smaller coins. I saw him wet the tip of
the least as he held me in the air above his little finger upon his tongue, and take
sixty feet from the ground, although he up one of my largest pieces, and then an.
grievously pinched my sides, for fear I other; but he seemed to be wholly ignorant
should slip through his fingers. All I what they were. He made me a sign to
ventured was to 'raise mine eyes towards put them again into my purse, and the
the sun, and place my hands together in a purse again into my pocket, which, after
supplicating posture, and to speak some offering it to him several times, I thought
words in an humble melancholy tone, suit- it best to do.
able to the condition I then was in : for I
The farmer, by this time, was convinced
apprehended every moment that he would I must be a rational creature. He spoke
dash me against the ground, as we usually often to me; but the sound of his voice
do any little hateful animal, which we pierced my ears like that of a water-mill
have a mind to destroy.* But my good yet his words were articulate enough. I
star would have it, that he appeared pleased answered as loud as I could in several lan.
with my voice and gestures, and began to guages, and he often laid his ear within
look upon me as a curiosity, much wonder- two yards of me: but all in vain, for we
ing to hear me pronounce articulate words, were wholly unintelligible to each other.
although he could not understand them. He then sent his servants to their work,
In the mean time I was not able to forbear and taking his handkerchief out of his
groaning and shedding tears, and turning pocket, doubled and spread it on his
he
my head towards my sides; letting him left hand, which he placed flat on the
know, as well as I could, how cruelly I ground with the palm upward, making me
was hurt by the pressure of his thumb and a sign to step into it, as I could easily do,
finger. He seemed to apprehend my for it was not above a foot in thickness. I
meaning; for, lifting up the lappet of his thought it my part to obey, and, for fear of
coat, he put me gently into it, and im- falling, laid myself at full length upon the
mediately ran along with me to his master, handkerchief, with the remainder of which
who was a substantial farmer, and the he lapped me up to the head for further
security, and in this manner carried me
same person I had first seen in the field,
The farmer having (as I suppose by their home to his house. There he called his
talk) received such an account of me as wife, and showed me to her ; but she
his servant could give him, took a piece of screamed and ran back, as women in
a small straw, about the size of a walking- England do at the sight of a toad or a
staff; and therewith lifted up the lappets spider. However, when she had awhile
of my coat; which it seems hliethought to seen my behaviour, and how well I obbe some kind of covering that nature had served the signs her husband made, she
given me. He blew my hairs aside to take was soon reconciled, and by degrees grew
a better view of my face.He called his extremely tender of me.
It was about twelve at noon, and a serhinds about him, and asked them, as 1
afterwards learned, " Whether they had vant brought in dinner. It was only one
substantial dish of meat (fit for the plain
beof
Our inattention to thefelicitysensitive condition of a husbandman,) in a dish of
because they aresmall, is hereforci-about four-and-twenty feet diameter. The
blyreproved: many have wantonlycrushed an company were, the farmer and his wife,
of
the
who
insect, would shudder atcutting throat
an old grandmother.
Sdg
i it
Sheeast
of should always beremembered, that three children, andsat down, the farmer
these,
When they were
merely
ings,

ti- sufferance feels
mortal

As

when

a giast dies.'-.H.

a pang asgreat

placed me at some distance from him on
the table, -which was thirty feet high from

28

GULLIVER'S TRAVELS.

the floor. I was in a terrible fright, and
kept as far as I could from the edge, for
fear of falling. The wife minced a bit of
meat, then crumbled some bread on a
trencher, and placed it before me. I made
her a low bow, took out my knife and fork,
and fell to eat, which gave them exceeding
delight. The mistress sent her maid for a
small dram cup, which held about two
gallons, and filled it with drink; I took up
the vessel with much difficulty in both
bands, and in a most respectful manner
drank to her ladyship's health, expressing
the words as loud as I could in English,
which made the company laugh so heartily,
that I was almost deafened with the noise.
This liquor tasted like a small cider, and
was not unpleasant. Then the master
made me a sign to come to his trencher
side; but as I walked on the table, being
in great surprise all the time, as the indulgent reader will easily conceive and excuse,
I happened to stumble against a crust, and
fell flat on my face, but received no hurt.
I got up immediately, and observing the
good people to be in much concern, 1 took
my hat (which 1 held under my arm out of
good manners,) and waving it over my
head, made three huzzas, to show I had
got no mischief by my fall. But advancing
forward towards my master (as I shall
henceforth call him,) his youngest son,
who sat next to him, an arch boy of about
ten years old, took me up by the legs, and

fear before a fierce animal, is a certain way
to make it pursue or attack you, so I resolved, in this dangerous juncture, to show
no manner of concern. I walked witO
intrepidity five or six times before the very
head of the cat, and came within half a
yard of her; whereupon she drew herself
back, as if she were more afraid of me: I
had less apprehension concerning the dogs,
whereof three or four came into the room
as it is usual in farmers' houses; one of
which was a mastiff, equal in bulk to four
elephants, and a greyhound, somewhat
taller than the mastiff, but not so large.
When dinner was almost done, the nurse
came in with a child of a year old in her
arms, who immediately spied me, and
began a squall that you might have heard
from London-Bridge to Chelsea, after the
usual oratory of infants, to get me for a
plaything. The mother, out of pure indulgence, took me up, and put me towards
the child, who presently seized me by the
middle, and got my head into his mouth.
where I roared so loud that the urchiu
was frighted, and let me drop, and I shokil
infallibly have broke my neck, if the
mother had not held her apron under me.
The nurse, to quiet her babe, made use of
a rattle which was a kind of hollow vesse_
filled with great stones, and fastened by a
cable to the child's waist: but all in vai ;
so that she was forced to apply the last
remedy by giving it suck. I must confess

held me so high in the air, that 1 trembled

no object ever disgusted me so much as the

every limb: but his father snatched me
from him, and at the same time gave him
such a box on the left ear, as would have
felled an European troop of horse to the
earth, ordering him to be taken from the
table. But being afraid the boy might owe
me a spite, and well remembering how
mischievous all children among us naturally are to sparrows, rabbits, young kittens,
and puppy dogs, I fell on my knees, and
pointing to the boy, made my master to
anderstand, as well as 1 could, that I
desired his son might be pardoned. The
father complied, and the lad took his seat
again, whereupon I went to him, and kissed
his hand, which my master took, and made
him stroke me gently with it.
In the midst of dinner, my mistress's
favourite cat leaped into her lap, heard a
I
noise behind me like that of a dozen stocking-weavers at work; and turning my head,
I found it proceeded from the purring of
that animal, who seemed to be three times
larger than an ox, as I computed by the
view of her head, and one of her paws,
while her mistress was feeding and stroking
her. The fierceness of this creature's
countenance altogether discomposed me;
though I stood at the further end of the
table, above fifty feet off; and although
my mistress held her fast, for fear she
might give a spring, and seize me in her
talons. But it happened there was no
danger, for the cat took not the least notice
of me, when my master placed me within
three yards of her. And as I have been
always told, and found true by experience
inmy travels, that flying or discovering

sight of her monstrous breast, which I
cannot tell what to compare with, so as to
give the curious reader an idea of its bulk,
shape, and colour. Itstood prominent six
feet, and could not be less than sixteen in
circumference. The nipple was about half
the bigness of my head, and the hue bt:
of that and the dug, so varied with spots
pimples, and freckles, that nothing could
appear more nauseous: for I had a near
sight of her, she sitting down, the more
conveniently to give suck, and I standing
on the table. This made me reflect upon
the fair skins of our English ladies, who
appear so beautiful to us, only because the)y
are of our own size, and their defects no'
to be seen but through a magnifying glass;
where we find by experiment that the
smoothest and.whitest skins look rough,
and coarse, and ill-coloured.
I remember, when I was at Lilliput, tl.e
complexion of those diminutive peopsc
appeared to me the fairest in the worla;
and talking upon this subject with a person
of learning there, who was an intimate
friend of mine, he said that my face ap.
peared much fairer and smoother when
he looked on me from the ground, than it
did upon a nearer view, when I took him
up in my hand, and brought him close,
which he confessed was at first a very
shocking sight. He said, "he could discover great holesin my skin; that the
stumps of my beard were ten times stronger
than the bristles of a boar, and my com.
plexion made up of several colours altogether disagreeable :" although I must
beg leave to say for myself, that I am S

A VOYAGE TO BROBDINGNAG.

29

fair most of my sex and country, and strong slash across the neck, I thoroughly
as
very little sun-burnt by all my travels. On despatched it.
the other side, discoursing of the ladies in
Soon after my mistress came into the
that emperor's court, he used to tell me, room, who seeing me all bloody, ran and
" one had freckles, another too wide a took me up in her hand. I pointed to the
mouth, a third too large a nose;" nothing dead rat, smiling, and making other signs
ofwhich I was able to distinguish. I con- to show I was not hurt; whereat she was
less, this reflection was obvious enough ; extremely rejoiced, calling the maid to
which, however, I could not forbear, least take up the dead rat with a pair of tongs,
the reader might think those vast creatures and throw it out of the window. Then she
were actually deformed : for I must do set me on a table, where I showed her my
them the justice to say, they are a comely hanger all bloody, and wiping it on the
race of people, and particularly the features lappet of my coat, returned it to the scab.
of my master's countenance, although he bard. I was pressed to do more than one
were but a farmer, when I beheld him thing which another could not do for me,
from the height of sixty feet, appeared and therefore endeavoured to make my
werv
well proportioned.
mistress understand, that I desired to be
When dinner was done, my master went set down on the floor; which after she had
tohis labourers, and, as I could dis. done, my bashfulness would not suffer me
:oer by his voice and gesture, gave his to express myself farther, than by pointing
wife strict charge to take care of me. I to the door, and bowing several times, The
w&. very much tired, and disposed to sleep, good woman, with much difficulty, at last
which my mistress perceiving, she pht me perceived what I would be at, and taking
,n ner own bed, and covered me with a me up again in her hand, walked into the
- ean white handkerchief, but larger and garden, where she set me down. I went on
•oarser than the main-sail of a man of one side about two hundred yards, and becqar.
koning to her not to look or to follow me, I
I .9ept about two hours, and dreamt 1 hid myself between two leaves of sorrel,
y
p at home with my wife and children, and there discharged the necessities of
which aggravated my sorrows when I nature.
awoke, and found myself alone in a vast
I hope the gentle reader will excuse me
room, between two and three hundred feet for dwelling on these and the like particuwide, and above two hundred high, lying lars, which, however insignificant they
in a bed twenty yards wide. My mistress may appear to groveling vulgar minds, yet
was gone about her household affairs, will certainly help a philosopher to enlarge
and had locked me in. The bed was eight his thoughts and imagination, and apply
yards from the floor. Some natural ne- them to the benefit of public as well as
ccssities required me to get down; I durst private life, which was my sole design in
notpresume to call; and if I had, it would presenting this, and other accounts of my
have been in vain, with such a voice as travels, to the world; wherein I have been
mine, atso great a distance as from the room chiefly studious of truth, without affecting
where. I lay to the kitchen where the any ornaments of learning or of style.
family kept.* While I was under these But the whole scene of this voyage made
circumstances, two rats crept up the cur- so strong an impression on my mind, and
tains, and ran smelling backwards and is so deeply fixed in my memory, that in
forwards on the bed. One of them came committing it to paper I did not omit one
up almost to my face, whereupon I rose in material circumstance : however, upon a
a fright, and drew out my hanger to strict review, I blotted out several passages
defend myself. These horrible animals of less moment which were in my first
had the boldness to attack me on both copy, for fear of being censured as tedious
sides, and one of them held his fore-feet at and trifling, whereof travellers are often,
my collar; but I had the good fortune to perhaps not without justice, accused.
rip his belly, before he could do me any
up
mischief. HIe fell down at my feet; and ,---theother, seeing the fate of his comrade,
maIle escape, but not without one good I
his
CHAPTER I I.
wound on the back, which I gave him as
he fled, and made the blood run trickling A description of the Farmer's Daughter.
from him. After this exploit, I walked
The Author carried to a market-town,
gently to and fro on the bed, to recover
and then to the metropolis. The particu.
my breath and loss of spirits. These crealars his journey.
of
itureswere of the size of a large mastiff, bat
infinitely more nimble and fierce; so that MY mistress had a daughter ofnine
old,
it 1 had taken off my belt before I went a child of towardlyparts for her age, very
tosleep, I must have infallibly been torn dexterous at her needle, and skilfui in dressto pieces and devoured. I measured the ing her baby. Her mother and she contail of the dead rat, and found it to be two trived to fit up the baby's cradle for me
yards
long, wanting an inch; but it went against night: the cradle wasput into a small1
against my stomach to drag the carcass drawer of a cabinet, and the drawer placed
off the bed, where it lay still bleeding; I upon a hanging shelf for fear of the rats.
observed it had yet some life, but with a '1his was my bed all the time I staid with
those people, though made more convenient
This a Liscostustirn provincialism.-N.
is
by degrees, as I began to learn
theirlanguase

vil

years

*

80

GULLIVER'S TRAVELS.

and make my wants known. This young
girl was so handy, that after I had once or
twice pulled off my clothes before her, she
was able to dress and undress me, though I
never gave her that trouble when she would
let me do either myself. She made me seven
shirts, and some other linen, of as fine cloth
as could be got, which indeed was coarser
than sackcloth; and these she constantly
washed for me with her own hands. She
was likewise my school-mistress, to teach
me the language : when I pointed to any
thing, she told me the name of it in her
own tongue, so that in a few days I
was able to call for whatever I had
a mind to. She was very good-natured,
and not above forty feet high, being little
for her age. She gave me the name of
Grildrig, which the family took up, and
afterwards the whole kingdom. The word
imports what the Latins call nonunculus.
the Italians homunceletion and the English
mannikin. To her I chiefly owe my presevation in that country : we never parted
while I was there; I called her my Glumdalclitch, or little nurse; and should be
guilty of great ingratitude, if I omitted
this honourable mention of her care and
affection towards me, which I heartily
wish it lay in my power to requite as she
deserves, instead of being the innocent,
but unhappy instrument of her disgrace,
as I have too much reason to fear.
It now began to be known and talked of
in the neighbourhood, that my master had
found a strange animal in the field, about
the bigness of a splacnuck, but exactly
shaped in every part like a human creature ;
which it likewise imitated in all its actions ;
seemed to speak in a little language of its
own, had already learned several words of
theirs, went erect upon two legs, was tame
and gentle, would come when it was called,
do whatever it was bid, had the finest limbs
in the world, and a complexion fairer than
a nobleman's daughter of three years old.
Another farmer, who lived hard by, and
was a particular friend of my master, came
on a visit on purpose to inquire into the
truth of this story. I was immediately
produced, and placed upon a table, where
I walked as I was commanded, drew my
hanger, put it up again, made my reverence
to my master's guest, asked him in his own
language how he did, and told him he was
welcome, just as my little nurse had instructed me. This man, who was old and
dim-sighted, put on his spectacles to behold
me better; at which I could not forbear
laughing very heartily, for his eyes appeared like the full moon shining into a
Our people,
chamber at two windows,
who discovered the cause of my mirth,
bore me company in laughing, at which
the old fellow was fool enough to be angry
He had the
and out of countenance.
character of a great miser; and, to my
misfortune, he well deserved it, by the
cursed advice he gave my master, to show
me as a sight upon a market.day in the
next town, which was half an hour's riding
abouttwo-and-twenty miles from our house.
I guessed there was some mischief con-

triving, when I observed my master and
his friend whispering long together, sometimes pointing at me; and my fears made
me fancy that I overheard and understood
some of their words. But the next morning
Glumdalclitch, my little nurse, told me
the whole matter, which she had cunningly
picked out from her mother. The poor
girl laid me on her bosom, and fell a weeping with shame and grief. She apprehended
some mischief would happen to me from
rude vulgar folks, who might squeeze me
to death, or break one of my limbs by
taking me in their hands. She had also
observed how modest I was in my nature,
how nicely I regarded my honour, and
what an indignity I should conceive it, to
be exposed for money as a public spectacle,
to the meanest of the people. She said,
her papa and mamma had promised that
Grildrig should be hers; but now she
found they meant to serve her as they
did last year, when they pretended to
give her a lamb, and yet, as soon as it
was fat, sold it to a butcher. For my
own part, I may truly affirm, that 1 was
less concerned than my nurse. I had a
strong hope, which never left me, that I
should one day recover my liberty: and as
to the ignominy of being carried about for
a monster, I considered myself to be a
perfect stranger in the country, and that
such a misfortune could never be charged
upon me as a reproach, if ever I should
return to England; since the king of Great
Britain himself, in my condition, must
have undergone the same distress.
My master, pursuant to the advice of
his friend, carried me in a box the next
market-day to the neighbouring town, and
took along with him his little daughter,
my nurse, upon a pillion behind him.
The box was close on every side, with a
little door for me to go in and out, and a
few gimlet holes to let in air. The girl
had been so careful as to put the quilt of
her baby's bed into it, for me to lie down
on. However, I was terribly shaken and
discomposed in this journey, though it was
but of half an hour: for the horse went
about forty feet at every step, and trotted
so. high, that the agitation was equal to
the rising and falling of a ship in a great
storm, but much more frequent. Our
journey was somewhat further than from
London to St. Alban's. My master alight.
ed at an inn which he used to frequent;
and after consulting awhile with the
inn-keeper, and making some necessary
preparations, he hired the grultrud, or
crier, to give notice through the town of a
strange creature to be seen at the sign of
the Green Eagle, not so big as a splacnuck
(an animal in that country very finely
shaped, about six feet long,) and in every
part of the body resembling a human
creature, could speak several words, and
perform a hundred diverting tricks.
I was placed upon a table in the largest
room of the inn, which might be near three
hundred feet square. My little nurse stood
on a low stool close to the table, to take
care of me, and direct what I should do.,

A VOYAGE TO BROBDINGNAG.
My master, to avoid a crowd, would suffer
only thirty people at a time to see me. I
walked about on the table as the girl cornmanded: she asked me questions, as far
as she knew my understanding of the language reached, and I answered them as loud
as I could. I turned about several times to
the company, paid my humble respects,
said they were welcome, and used some
other speeches I had been taught. I took
up a thimble filled with liquor, which
Glumdalclitch had given me for a cup, and
drank their health, I drew out my hanger,
and flourished with it after the manner of
fencers in England. My nurse gave me a
part of a straw, which I exercised as a
pike, having learnt the art in my youth. I
was that day shown to twelve sets of com.
pany, and as often forced to act over again
the same fopperies, till I was half dead
with weariness and vexation; for those
who had seen me made such wonderful
reports, that thepeople were ready to break
down the doors to come in. My master,
for his own interest, would not suffer any
one to touch me except my nurse; and to
prevent danger, benches were set round
the table at such a distance as to put me
out of every body's reach. However, an
unlucky school-boy aimed a hazel nut
directly at my head, which very narrowly
missed me; otherwise it came with so
much violence, that it would have infallibly knocked out my brains, for it was almost as large as a small pumpion; but I
had the satisfaction to see the young rogue
well beaten, and turned out of the room.
My master gave public notice that he
would show me again the next marketday; and in the meantime he prepared a
more convenient vehicle for me, which he
had reason enough to do; for I was so tired
with my first journey, and with entertaining company for eight hours together, that
I could hardly stand upon my legs, or speak
a word. It was at least three days before
1 recovered my strength; and that I might
have no rest at home, all the neighbouring
gentleman from a hundred miles round,
hearing of my fame, came to see me at my
master's own house. There could not be
fewer than thirty persons with their wives
and children (for the country is very populous;) and my master demanded the rate
of a full room whenever he showed me at
home, although it were only to a single
family; so that for some time I had but
little ease every day of the week (except
Wednesday, which is their sabbath,) although I were not carried to the town.
My master, finding how profitable I was
likely to be, resolved to carry me to the
most considerable cities of the kingdom.
Having therefore provided himself with all
things necessary for a long journey, and
settled his affairs at home, he took leave of
his wife, and upon the 17th of August,
1763, about two months after my arrival,
we set out for the metropolis, situate near
the middle of that empire, and about three
thousand miles' distance from our house.
My master made his daughter Glumdal.
clitch ride behind him. She carried me on
'

31

her lap, in a box tied about her waist. The
girl had lined it on all sides with the softest
cloth she could get, well quilted underneath, furnished it with her baby's bed,
provided me with linen and other necessaries, and made every thing as convenient
as she could. We had no other company
but a boy of the house, who rode after us
with the luggage.
My master's design was to show me in
all the towns by the way, and to step out
of the road, for fifty or a hundred miles,
to any villages or person of quality's house,
where he might expect custom. We made
easy journeys, of not above seven or eight
score miles a-day: for Glumdalclitch, on
purpose to spare me, complained she was
tired with the trotting of the horse. She
often took me out of my box, at my own
desire, to give me air, and show me the
country, but always held me fast by a leading-string. We passed over five or six
rivers, many degrees broader and deeper
than the Nile or the Ganges : and there
was hardly a rivulet so small as the
Thames at London-bridge. We were ten
weeks in our journey, and I was shown in
eighteen large towns, besides many villages, and private families.
On the 26th day of October we arrived
at the metropolis, called in their language
Lorbrulgrud, or Pride of the Universe.
My master took a lodging in the principal
street of the city, not far from the royal
palace, and put out bills in the usual form,
containing an exact description of my
person and parts. He hired a large room
between three and four hundred feet wide.
He provided a table sixty feet in diameter,
upon which I was to act my part, and
pallisadoed it round three feet from the
edge, and as many high, to prevent my
falling over. I was shown ten times a-day
to the wonder and satisfaction of all people.
1 could now speak the language tolerably
well, and perfectly understood every word,
that was spoken to me. Besides, I had
learnt their alphabet, and could make a
shift to explain a sentence here and there;
for Glumdalclitch had been my instructor
while we were at home, and at leisure
hours during our journey. She carried a
little book in her pocket, not much larger
than a Sanson's Atlas; it was a common
treatise for the use of young girls, giving a
short account of their religion : out of this
she taught me my letters, and interpreted
the words.
CHAPTER III.
(he Author sent for to court. The Queesn
buys him of his master the Farmer, and
presents him to the King. He disputes
with his majesty's great scholars. An a.
partment atcourt providedforthe Author.
He is in high favour with the Queen. He
stands up for the honour of his own country. His quarrelswith the Queen'sdwarf.
THu frequent labours I underwent every
c) 2

32

GULLIVER'S TRAVELS.

day, made, in a few weeks, a very consideralile change in my health : the more my
master got by me, the more insatiable he
grew. I had quite lost my stomach, and was
almost reduced to a skeleton. The farmer
observed it, and concluding I must soon
die, resolved to make as good a hand of me
as he could. While he was thus reasoning
and resolving with himself, a sardral,or
gentleman-usher, came from court, commanding my master to carry me immedi.
ately thither for the diversion of the queen
and her ladies. Some of the latter had
already been to see me, and reported strange
things of my beauty, behaviour, and good
sense. Her majesty, and those who attended her, were beyond measure delighted
with my demeanour. I fell on my knees,
and begged the honour of kissing her imperial foot ; but this gracious princess held
out her little finger towards me, after I
was set on the table, which I embraced in
both my arms, and put the tip of it with
the utmost respect to my lip. She made
me some general questions about my country and my travels, which I answered as
distinctly, and in as few words as I could.
She asked, "' whether I could be content to
live at court ?" I bowed down to the board
of the table, and humbly answered "that
I was my master's slave : but, if I were at
my own disposal, I should be proud to devote my life to her majesty's service." She
then asked my master, " whether he was
willing to sell me at a good price ?" He,
who apprehended I could not live amonth,
was ready enough to part with me, and
demanded a thousand pieces of gold, which
were ordered him on the spot, each piece
being about the bigness of eight hundred
moidores; but allowing for the proportion
of all things between that country and
Europe, and the high price of gold among
them, was hardly so great a sum as a tholsand guineas would be in England. I then
said to the qiueen, " since I was now her
majesty's most humble creature and vassal,
1 must beg the favour, that Glumdalclitch,
who had always tended me with so much
care and kindness, and understood to do it
so well, might be admitted into her service,
and continue to be my nurse and instrue.
tor."
Her majesty agreed to my petition, and
easily got the farmer's consent, who was
glad enough to have his daughter preferred
at court, and the poor girl herself was not
able to hide her joy. My late master withdrew, bidding me farewell, and saying he
had left me in a good service; to which I
replied not a word, only making him a
slight bow.
The queen observed my coldness; and,
when the farmer was gone out of the apartment, asked me the reason. I made bold
to tell her majesty, "that I owed no other
obligation to my late master, than his not
dashing out the brains of a poor harmless
creature, found by chance in his fields:
which obligation was amply recompensed,
by the gain he had made in showing me
through half the kingdom, and the price
4e had now sold me for. That the life I

I had since led, was laborious enough to kil
an animal of ten times my strength. That
my health was much impaired, by the continual drudgery of entertaining the rabble
every hour of the day; and that, if my
master had not thought my life in danger,
her majesty would not have got so cheap a
bargain. But as I was out of all fear of
being ill treated, under the protection of so
great and good an empress, the ornament
of nature, the darling of the world, the
delight of her subjects, the phcenix of the
creation; so, I hoped my late master's
apprehensions would appear to be groundless; for I already found my spirits revive,
by the influence of her most august presence."
This was the sum of my speech, delivered with great improprieties and hesitation.
The latter part was altogether framed in
the style peculiar to that people, whereof I
learned some phrases from Glumdalclitch,
while she was carrying me to court.
The queen, giving great allowance for
my defectiveness in speaking, was, how.
ever, surprised at so much wit and good
sense in so diminutive an animaL She
took me in her own hand, and carried me
to the king, who was then retired to his
cabinet. His majesty, a prince of much
gravity and austere countenance, not well
observing my shape at first view, asked the
queen after a cold manner " how long it
was since she grew fond of a splacnuck ?
for such it seems he took me to be, as I
lay upon my breast in her majesty's right
hand. But this princess, who has an infinite deal of wit and humour, set me
gently on my feet upon the scrutoire, and
commanded me to give his majesty an account of myself, which I did in a very few
words: and Glumdalclitch, who attended
at the cabinet door, and could not endure
I should be out of her sight, being admit.
ted, confirmed all that had passed from my
arrival at her father's house
The king, although he be as learned a
person as any in his dominions, had been
educated in the study of philosophy, and
particularly mathematics ; yet when hq
observed my shape exactly, and saw mg
walk erect, before I began to speak, conceived I might be a piece of clock-work
(which is in that country arrived to a very
great perfection) contrived by some ingenious artist. But when he heard my voice,
and found what I delivered to be regular
and rational, he could not conceal his
astonishment. He was by no means satisfled with the relation I gave him of the
manner I came into his kingdom, but
thought it a story concerted between
Glumdalclitch and her father, who had
taught me a set of words to make me sell
at a better price. Upon this imagination,
he put several other questions to me, and
still received rational answers: no otherwise defective, than by a foreign accent,
and an imperfect knowledge in the language, with some rustic phrases which I
had learned at the farmer's house, and did
not suit the polite style of a court.
His majesty sent for three great scholars,

A VOYAGE TO BROBDINGNAG.
who were then in the weekly waiting, according to the custom in that country.
These gentlemen, after they liad awhile
examined my shape with much nicety,
were of different opinions concerning me.
They all agreed that 1 could not be produced according to the regular laws of
nature, because I was not framed with a
capacity of preserving my life, either by
swiftness, or climbing of trees, or digging
holes in the earth. They observed by my
teeth, which they viewed with great exactness, that I was a carnivorous animal; yet
most quadrupeds being an overmatch for
me, and field mice, with some others, too
nimble, they could not imagine how I
should be able to support myself, unless I
fed upon snails and other insects, which
they offered, by many learned arguments,
to evince that I could not possibly do.*
One of these virtuosi seemed to think that
I might be an embryo, or abortive birth,
But this opinion was rejected by the other
two, who observed my limbs to be perfect
and finished; and that I had lived several
years, as it was manifest from my beard,
the stumps whereof they plainly discovered
through a magnifying-glass. They would
not allow me to be a dwarf, because my
littleness was beyond all degrees of comparison; for the queen's favourite dwarf,
the smallest ever known in that kingdom,
was near thirty feet high. After much
debate, they concluded unanimously, that
I was only relplum scalcath, which is interpreted literally lusus nature; a determination exactly agreeable to the modern
philosophy of Europe, whose professors,
disdaining the old evasion of occult causes,
whereby the followers of Aristotle endeavoured in vain to disguise their ignorance,
have invented this wonderful solution of
all difficulties, to the unspeakable advancement of human knowledge.
After this decisive conclusion, I entreated to be heard a word or two. I applied
myself to the king, and assured his majesty, "that I came from a country which
abounded with several millions of both
sexes, and of my own stature; where the
animals, trees, and houses, were all in
proportion, and where, by consequence, I
might be as able to defend myself, and to
find sustenance, as any of his majesty's
subjects could do here; which I took for a
full answer to those gentlemen's arguments." To this they only replied with a
smile of contempt, saying, " that the farmer ;had instructed me very well in my
lesson."t The king, who had a much
better understanding, dismissing his learned
men, sent for the farmer, who by good
fortune was not yet gone out of town.

R

Having therefore first examined him pr
vately, and then confronted him with me
and the young girl, his majesty began
to think that what we told him might
possibly be true. He desired the queen to
order that a particular care should be
taken of me; and was of opinion that
Glumdalclitch should still continue in her
office of tending me, because he observed
we had a great affection for each other. A
convenient apartment was provided for
her at court; she had a sort of governess
appointed to take care of her education, a
maid to dress her, and two other servants
for menial offices ; but the care of me was
wholly appropriated to herself. The queen
commanded her own cabinet-maker to
contrive a box, that might serve me for a
bed-chamber, after the model that Glum.
dalclitch and I should agree upon. This
man was a most ingenious artist, and
according to my direction, in three weeks
finished for me a wooden chamber of sixteen feet square, and twelve high, with
sash-windows, a door, and two closets, like
a London bed-chamber. The board, that
made the ceiling, was to be lifted up and
down by two hinges to put in a bed ready
furnished by her majesty's upholsterer,
which Glumdalclitch took out every day to
air, made it with her own hands, and
letting it down at night, locked up the roof
over me. A nice workman, who was
famous for little curiosities, undertook to
make me two chairs, with backs and
frames, of a substance not unlike ivory,
and two tables, with a cabinet to put my
things in. The room was quilted on all
sides, as well as the floor and the ceiling, to
prevent any accident from the carelessness
of those who carried me, and to break the
force of a jolt, when I went in a coach. I
desired a lock for my door, to prevent rats
and mice from coming in. The smith,
after several attempts, made the smallest
that ever was seen among them, for I have
known a larger"at the gate of a gentle.
man's house
England. I made a shift
to keep the key in a pocket of my own,
fearing Glumdalclitch might lose it. The
queen likewise ordered the thinest silks
that could be gotten, to make me clothes,
not much thicker than an English blanket,
very culrbersome till I was accustomed to
them. They were after the fashion of the
kingdom, partly resembling the Persian,
and partly the Chinese, and are a very
grave and decent habit.
The queen became so fond of my com.
pany, that she could not dine without me.
I had a table placed upon the same at which
her majesty ate, just at her elbow, and a
chair to sit on. Glumdalclitch stood on a
stool on the floor near my table, to assist
SBy this reasoning the author prsobably intend
care
entire set
edto ridicule the pride of those philosophers, who and takedishes of me. I had an other neof silver
and plates, and

i

have thought fit to arraign the wisdom of provi
cessaries, which, in proportion to those of
dence in the creation and government of the
world ; whose cavils are specious, like those of the, the queen, were not much bigger than
Brobdingnagian sages, only in proportion to the what I have seen in a London toy-shop,
ignorance of those to whom they are proposed.-H. I for the furniture of a baby-house : these my
t This satire is levelled against all who reject , little nurse kept in her pocket in a silver
those facts for which they cannot perfectly account, notwithstanding the absurdity of rejecting box, and gave me at meals as I wanted

the testimony by which they are supported.--I.

them, always cleaning them herself. No

3S

GULLIVER'S TRAVELS.

person dined with the queen but the two
princesses royal, the eldest sixteen years
old, and the younger at that time thirteen '
and a month. Her majesty used to put a
bit of meat upon one of my dishes, out of'
which I carved for myself, and her diversion was to see me eat in miniature: for
the queen (who had indeed but a weak
stomach) took up, at one mouthful, as
much as a dozen English farmers could eat
at a meal, which to me was for some time
avery nauseous sight.* She would craunch
the wing ofa lark, bones and all, between
her teeth, although it were nine times as
large as that of a full-grown turkey ; and
put a bit of bread into her mouth as big as
two twelve-penny loaves. She drank out of
a golden cup,above a hogshead at a draught.
Her knives were twice as long as a scythe,
set straight upon the handle. The spoons,
forks, and other instruments, were all in
the same proportion. I remember when
Glumdalclitch carried me, out of curiosity,
to see some of the tables at court, where
tenor a dozen of those enormous knives
and forks were lifted up together, I thought
I had never till then beheld so terrible a
sight.
It is the custom, that every Wednesday
(which, as I have observed, is their sabbath)
the king and queen, with the royal issue of
both sexes, dine together in the apartment
of his majesty, to whom I was now become
a great favourite; and at these times, my
little chairand table were placed at his
left hand, before one of the salt-sellars.
This prince took a pleasure in conversing
with me, inquiring into the manners,
religion, laws, government, and learning
of Europe; wherein I gave him the best
account I was able. His apprehension
was so clear, and his judgment so exact,
that he made very wise reflections and
observations upon all I said. But I confess, that after I had been a little too
copious in talking of my own beloved
country, of our trade and wars by sea and
land, of our schisms in religion, and
parties in the state; the prejudices of his
education prevailed so far, that he could
forbear taking me up in his right hand,
and stroking me gently with the other,
after a hearty fit of laughing, asked me,
whether I was a whig or tory ? Then
turning to his first minister, who waited
behind him with a white staff, near as tall
as the mainmast of the Royal Sovereign,
he observed " how contemptible a thing

not

was human grandeur, which could be
mimicked by such diminutive insects as :
and yet," says he, "I dare engage these
creatures have their titles and distinctions
of honour; they contrive little nests and
burrows, that they call houses and cities;
they make a figure in dress and equipage;
they love, they fight, they dispute, they
cheat, they betray."
And thus he continued on, while my colour came and went
several times, with indignation, to hear
our noble country, the mistress of arts and
arms, the scourge of France, the arbitrees
of Europe, theseat of virtue, piety, honour,
and truth, the pride and envy of the world,
so contemptuously treated.
But as I was not in a condition to resent
injuries, so upon mature thoughts 1 began
to doubt whether I was injured or not.
For, after having been accustomed several
months to the sight and converse of this
people, and observed every object upon
which I cast mine eyes to be of propertionable magnitude, the horror I had at
first conceived from their bulk and aspect
was so far worn off,
that if I had then
beheld a company of English lords and
ladies in their finery and birth-day clothes,
acting their several parts in the most
courtly manner of strutting, and bowing,
and prating; to say the truth, I should
have been strongly tempted to laugh as
much at them, as the king and his grandees
did at me. Neither, indeed, could I forbear smiling at myself, when the queen
used to place me upon her hand towards a
looking-glass, by which both our persons
appeared before me in full view together;
and there could be nothingmore ridiculous
than the comparison; so that I really
began to imagine myself dwindled many
degrees below my usual size.
Nothing angered and mortified me so
much as the queen's dwarf: who being of
the lowest stature that was ever in that
country (for I verily think he was not
full thirty feet high), became so insolent at
seeing a creature so much beneath him,
that he would always affect to swagger
and look big as he passed by me in the
queen's antechamber, while I was standing
on some table talking with the lords or
ladies of the court, and he seldom failed of
a smart word or two upon my littleness;
against which I could only revenge myselt
by calling him brother,
challenging him to
wrestle, and such repartees as are usually
in the mouths of court pages. One day,
at dinner, this 'malicious little cub was so

" $oog
other
dreadful anddisgusting images, nettled with something I had said to him,
whic5 customhas rendered familiar, are those that, raising himself upon the frame of her
which arise from eating animal fbood: who majesty's chair, he took me up by the
he
has ever turned with abhorrence fromthe skeleton middle as I wassitting down, not thinking
of a beast which hasbeenpickedwholeby birds,

or verin, mst cofess that hahit only could any harm, and let me drop into a large

have enabled him to endure the sight of the silver bowl of cream, and then ran away
mangledbonesand flesh of a dead carcass which as fast as he could. I fell over head and
every day cover histable; and he who reflects on ears, and, if 1 had not been a good swimthe number of lives thathave been sacrificed to
it
sustain his own, should enquire by what the ar- mer, it might have gone very hard with
have
hard with
count been balanced, and whether his life is me; for Glumdalclitch in that instant
has
become proportionably of more value by the exer- happenod to be at the other end of the
oseof virtue and piety, the superior happiness room, and
by
which he has communicated toreasonable
nthe
quemn was in such a fright,
aod by the glorywhich his intellect has a- that she wanted
;ence of mind to assist

might

axlbed God.-Ii.
to

pi

me. But my lit...
urse ran to my relief

A VOYAGE

TO

B ROBDINGNAG,

35

and took me out, after I had swallowed
I remember, one morning, when Glum.
above a quart of cream. I was put to oed: dalclitch had set me in a box upon a win.
however, I received no other damage than dow, as she usually did in fair days to give
the loss of a suit of clothes, which was me air (for I durst not venture to let the
utterly spoiled. The dwarf was soundly t box be hung on a nail out of the window,
whipt, and as a farther punishment, forced as we do with cages in England), after I
to drink up the bowl of cream into which had lifted up one of my sashes, and sat
he had thrown me: neither was he ever down at my table to eat a piece of sweet
restored to favour; for soon after the cake for my breakfast, above twenty wasps
queen bestowed him on a lady of high allured by the smell, came flying into the
quality, so that I saw him no more, to my room humming louder than the drones of
very great satisfaction; for I could not as many bagpipes. Some of them seized
tell to what extremities such a malicious my cake, and carried it piece-meal away;
urchin might have carried his resent- others flew about my head and face, con.
ment.
founding me with the noise, and putting
He had before served me a scurvy trick, me in the utmost terror of their stings.
which set the queen a laughing, although However, I had the courage to rise and
at the same time she was heartily vexed, draw my hanger, and attack them in the
and would have immediately cashiered air. 1 dispatched four of them, but the rest
him, if 1 had not been so generous as to got away, and I presently shut my window.
intercede. Her majesty had taken a mar- 'These insects were as large as partridges:
row-bone upon her plate, and, after knock- 1 took out their stings, found them an inch
ing out the marrow, placed the bone again and a half long, and as sharp as needles. I
in the dish erect, as it stood before; the carefully preserved them all; and having
dwarf, watching his opportunity while since shown them, with some other curio.
Glumdalclitch was gone to the sideboard, ! sities, in several parts of Europe, upon my
mounted the stool that she stood on to return to England I gave three of them to
take care of me at meals, took me up in Gresham College, and kept the fourth for
both hands, and squeezing my legs to. myself.
gether, wedged them into the marrowbone, above my waist, where I stuck for
some time, and made a very ridiculous
CHAPTER IV.
figure. I believe it was near a minute
before any one knew what was become of
me; for I thought it below me to cry out. The country described. A proposalfor cor.
But, as princes seldom get their meat hot,
recting modern maps. The king's palace,
my legs were not scalded, only my stockandsome account of the metropolis. The
ings and breeches in a sad condition. The
Author's way of travelling. The chief
dwarf, at my entreaty, had no other puntemple described.
ishment than a sound whipping.
I was frequently rallied by the queen I Now intend to give the reader a short
upon account of my fearfulness; and she description of this country, as far as I
used to ask me whether the people of my travelled in it, which was not above two
country were as great cowards as myself ? thousand miles round Lorbrulgrud, the
The occasion was this : the kingdom is metropolis. For the queen, whom I always
much pestered with flies in summer : and attended, never went further when she
these odious insects, each of them as bigas Iaccompanied the king in his progresses,
a Dunstable lark, hardly gave me any rest and there staid till his majesty returned
while I sat at dinner, with their continual from viewing his frontiers. The whole
humming and buzzing about mine ears. extent of this prince's dominions reaches
They would sometimes alight upon my about six thousand miles in length, and
victuals, and leave their loathsome excre- from three to five in breadth: whence I
ment or spawn behind, which to me was cannot but conclude, that our geographers
very visible, though not to the natives of of Europe are in a great error, by supposthat country, whose large optics were not ling nothing but sea between Japan and
so acute as mine, in viewing smaller ob- California; for it was ever my opinion,
jects. Sometimes they would fix upon my that there must be a balance of earth to
nose or forehead, where they stung me to counterpoise the great continent of Tarthe quick, smelling very offensively; and I tary; and therefore they ought to correct
could easily trace that viscous matter, their maps and charts, by joining this vast
which, our naturalists tell us, enables those tract of land to the north-west parts of
creatures to walk with their feet upwards America, wherein I shall be ready to lend
upon a ceiling. I had much ado to defend them my assistance.
myself against these detestable animals,
The kingdom is a peninsula, terminated
and could not forbear starting when they co the north-east by a ridge of mountains
came on my face. It was the common shirty miles high, which are altogether
practice of the dwarf, to catch a number mpassable, by reason of the volcanoes
of these insects in his hand, as schoolboys upon the tops: neither do the most learned
do among us, and let them out suddenly know what sort of mortals inhabit beyond
under my nose, on purpose to frighten me, those mountains, or whether they be in.
and divert the queen. My remedy was to habited at all. On the three other sides,
cut them in pieces with my knife, as they' it is bounded by the ocean. There is not
flew in the air, wherein my dexterity wi' one sea-port in the whole kingdom, and
much admired.
those parts of the coasts into which tihe

36

GULLIVER'S TRAVELS.

rivers issue, are so full of pointed rocks,
and the sea generally so rough, that there
is no venturing with the smallest of their
boats; so that these people are wholly exeluded from any commerce with the rest
of the world. But the large rivers are full
of vessels, and abound with excellent fish;
for they seldom get any from the sea, because the sea fish are of the same size
with those in Europe, and consequently
not worth catching; whereby it is manifest, that nature, in the production of
)lants and animals of so extraordinary a
sulk, is wholly confined to this continent,
of which I leave the reasons to be determined by philosophers. However, now
and then they take a whale that happens
to be dashed against the rocks, which the
common people feed on heartily. These
whales I have known so large, that a man
could hardly carry one upon his shoulders ;
and sometimes, for curiosity, they are
brought in hampers to Lorbrulgrud: I
saw one of them in a dish at the king's
table, which passed for a rarity, but I did
not observe he was fond of it; for I think,
indeed the bigness disgusted him, although
I have seen one somewhat larger in Greenland.
The country is well inhabited, for it
contains fifty-one cities, near a hundred
walled towns, and a great number of villages. To satisfy my curious reader, it
may be sufficient to describe Lorbrulgrud.
This city stands upon almost two equal
parts, on each side the river that passes
through. It contains above eighty thousand houses, and about six hundred thousand inhabitants. It is in length three
glomglungs (which make about fifty-four
English miles,) and two and a half in
breadth; as I measured it myself in the
royal map made by the king's order, which
was laid on the ground on purpose for me,
and extended a hundred feet : I paced the
diameter and circumference several times
bare-foot, and computing by the scale mea.
sured it pretty exactly.
The king's palace is no regular edifice,
but a heap of building, about seven miles
round: the chief rooms are generally two
hundred and forty feet high, and broad and
long in proportion. A coach was allowed
to Glumdalclitch and me, wherein her
governess frequently took her out to see
the town, or go among the shops; and I
was always of the party, carried in my box;
although the girl, at my own desire, would
often take me out, and hold me in her
hand, that I might more conveniently view
the houses and the people, as we passed
along the streets. I reckoned our coach to
be about a square of Westminster-hall, but
not altogether so high : however, I cannot
be very exact. One day the governess
ordered our coachman to stop at several
shops, where the beggars, watching their
opportunity, crowded to the sides of the
coach, and gave me the most horrible spectacle that ever a European eye beheld.
There was a woman with a cancer in her
breast, swelled to a monstrous size, full of
holes, in two or three of which I could

have easily crept, and covered my wh, le
body. There was a fellow with a wen in
his neck, larger than five wool-packs ; and
another, with a couple of wooden legs,
each about twenty feet high. But the
most hateful sight of all, was the lice crawling on their clothes. I could see distinctly
the limbs of these vermin with my naked
eye, much better than those of a European louse through a microscope, and
their snouts with which they rooted like
swine. They were the first I had ever
beheld, and I should have been curious
enough to dissect one of them, if I had
had proper instruments, which 1 unluckily
left behind me in the ship, although, indeed, the sight was so nauseous, that it
perfectly turned my stomach.
Besides the large box in which I was
usually carried, the queen ordered a smaller
one to be made for me, of about twelve
feet square, and ten high, for the convenience of travelling; because the other was
somewhat too large for Glumdalclitch's
lap, and cumbersome in the coach; it was
made by the same artist, whom I directed
in the whole contrivance. This travellingcloset was an exact square, with a window
in the middle of three of the squares, and
each window was latticed with iron wise
on the outside, to prevent accidents in long
journeys. On the fourth side, which had
no window, two strong staples were fixed,
through which the person that carried me,
when I had a mind to be on horseback, put
a leathern belt, and buckled it about his
waist. This was always the office of some
grave trusty servant, in whom I could
confide, whether I attended the king and
queen in their progresses, or were disposed
to see the gardens, or pay a visit to some
great lady or minister of state in the court,
when Glumdalclitch happened to be out of
order; for I soon began to be known and
esteemed among the greatest officers, I
suppose more upon account of their majesties' favour, than any merit of my own.
In journeys, when I was weary of the
coach, a servant on horseback would buckle
on my box, and place it upon a cushion
before him; and there I had a full prospect of the country on three sides, from
my three windows. I had, in this closet,
a field-bed, and a hammock hung from the
ceiling, two chairs and a table, neatly
screwed to the floor, to prevent being tossed
about by the agitation of the horse or the
coach. And having been long used to seavoyages, those motions, although some.
times very violent, did not much discom.
pose me.
Whenever I had a mind to see the town,
it was always in my travelling-closet; which
Glumdalclitch held in her lap in a kind ot
open sedan, after the fashion of the country, borne by four men, and attended by
two others in the queen's livery. The
people, who had often heard of me, were
very curious to crowd about the sedan, and
the girl was complaisant enough to make
the bearers stop, and to take me in her
hand that I might be more conveniently
seen.

A

VOYAGE TO BROBDINGNAG,

I was very desirous to see the chief temple, and particularly the tower belonging
to it; which is reckoned the highest in the
kingdom. Accordingly one day my nurse
carried me thither, but I may truly say I
came back disappointed; for the height is
not above three thousand feet, reckoning
from the ground to the highest pinnacle
top; which, allowing for the difference
between the size of those people and us in
Europe, is no great matter for admiration,
nor at all equal in proportion (if I rightly
remember) to Salisbury steeple. But, not
to detract from a nation, to which, during
my life, I shall acknowledge myself extremely obliged, it must be allowed, that
whatever this famous tower wants in
height, is amply made up in beauty and
strength : for the walls are near a hundred
feet thick, built of hewn stone, whereof
each is about forty feet square, and adorned
on all sides with statues of gods and emperors, cut in marble, larger than the life,
placed in their several niches. I measured
a little finger which had fallen down from
one of these statues, and lay unperceived
among some rubbish, and found it exactly
four feet and an inch in length. Glumdalclitch wrapped it up in her handkerchief;
and carried it home in her pocket, to keep
among other trinkets, of which the girl
was very fond, as children at her age usually are.
The king's kitchen is, indeed, a noble
building, vaulted at top, and about six
hundred feet high. The great oven is not
so wide, by ten paces, as the cupola at St.
Paul's: for I measured the latter on purpose, after my return. But if I should
describe the kitchen grate, the prodigious
pots and kettles, the joints of meat turning
on the spits, with many other particulars,
perhaps I should be hardly believed; at
least a severe critic would be apt to think
I enlarged a little, as travellers are often
susplected to do. To avoid which censure
I fear I have run too much into the other
extreme; and that if this treatise should
happen to be translated into the language
of Brobdingnag (which is the general name
of that kingdom,) and transmitted thither,
the king and his people would have reason
to complain that I had done them an injury,
by a false and diminutive representation.
His majesty seldom keeps above six
hundred horses in his stables : they are
generally from fifty-four to sixty feet high.
But, when he goes abroad on solemn days,
he is attended, for state, by a militia guard
of five hundred horse, which, indeed, I
thought was the most splended sight that
could be ever beheld, till I saw part of his
army in battalia, whereof I shall find another occasion to speak.

37

country, if my littleness had not exposed
me to several ridiculous and troublesome
accidents ; some of which I shall venture
to relate. Glumdalclitch often carried me
into the gardens of the court in my smaller
box, and would sometimes take me out o.
it, and hold me in her hand, or set me
down to walk. I remember, before the
dwarf left the queen, he followed us one
day into those gardens, and my nurse haying set me down, he and I being close
together, near some dwarf apple trees, 4
must needs show my wit, by a silly allusion
between him and the trees, which happens
to hold in their language as it does in ours.
Whereupon, the malicious rogue, watching
his opportunity, when I was walking under
one of them, shook it directly over my
head, by which a dozen apples, each of
them near as large as a Bristol barrel, came
tumbling about my ears; one of them hit
me on the back as I chanced to stoop, and
knocked me down flat on my face; but I
received no other hurt, and the dwarf was
pardoned at my desire, because I had given
the provocation.
Another day, Glumdalclitch left me on
a smooth grassplot to divert myself, while
she walked at some distance with her
governess. In the mean time, there suddenly fell such a violent shower of hail,
that I was immediately, by the force of it,
struck to the ground: and when I was
down, the hailstones gave me such cruel
bangs all over the body, as if I had been
pelted with tenis-balls; however, I made
a shift to creep on all fours, and shelter
myself, by lying flat on my face, on the
lee-side of a border of lemon-thyme; but
so bruised from head to foot, that I could
not go abroad for ten days. Neither is this
at all to be wondered at, because nature, in
that country, observing the same proportion through all her operations, a hailstone
is near eighteen hundred times as large as
one in Europe; which I can assert upon
experience, having been so curious as to
weigh and measure them.
But a more dangerous accident happened
to me in the same garden, when my little
nurse, believing she had put me in a secure
place (which 1 often entreated her to do,
that I might enjoy my own thoughts,) and
having left my box at home, to avoid the
trouble of carrying it, went to another part
of the garden with her governess and some
ladies of her acquaintance. While she
was absent, and out of hearing, a small
white spaniel that belonged to one of the
chief gardeners, having got by accident
into the garden, happened to range near
the place where I lay : the dog, folloWing
the scent, came directly up, and taking me
in his mouth, ran straight to his master
wagging his tail, and set me gently on the
ground. By good fortune he had been so
well taught, that I was carried between
CHAPTER V.
his teeth without the least hurt, or even
Soveral adventures that happened to the tearing my clothes. But the poor gardener,
Author. The execution of a criminal, who knew me well, and had a great kindThe Author shows his skill in navigation. ness for me, was in a terrible fright: he
gently took me up in both his hands, and
1 sHOULD
have lived happy enough in that asked me how I did; but I was so anased

38

GULLIVER'S TRAVELS.

and out of breath, that I could not speak
a word. In a few minutes I came to myself, and he carried me safe to my little
nurse, who, by this time, had returned to
the place where she left me, and was in
cruel agonies when I did not appear, nor
answer when she called. She severely reprimanded the gardener on account of his
:dog. But the thing was hushed up, and
never known at court, for the girl was
afraid of the queen's anger; and truly, as
*o myself, I thought it would not be for
my reputation, that such a story should goabout.
This accident absolutely determined
Glumdalclitch never to trust' me abroad
the future out of her sight. I had been
long afraid of this resolution, and therefore
concealed from her some little unlucky
adventures, that happened in those times
when I was left to myself. Once a kite,
hovering over the garden, made a stoop at
me, and if I had not resolutely drawn my
hanger, and run under a thick espalier, he
would have certainly carried me away in
his talons. Another time, walking to the
top of a fresh molehill, 1 fell to my neck
in the hole, through which that animal
had cast up the earth, and coined some lie,
not worth remembering, to excuse myself
for spoiling my clothes. I likewise broke
my right shin against the shell of a snail,
which I happened to stumble over, as I
was walking alone and thinking on poor
England.
I cannot tell whether I were more
pleased or mortified to observe, in those
solitary walks, that the smaller birds did
not appear to be at all afraid of me, but
would hop about within a yard's distance,
looking fir worms and other food, with as
much indifference and security as if no
creature at all were near them. I remember, a thrush had the confidence to snatch
out of my hand, with his bill, a piece of
cake that Glumdalclitch had just given me
for my breakfast. When I attempted to
catch any of these birds, they would boldly
turn against me, endeavouring to peck my
fingers, which 1 durst not venture within
their reach ; and then they would hop
back unconcerned, to hunt for worms or
snails, as they did before. But one day, I
took a thick cudgel, and threw it with all
my strength so luckily, at a linnet, that I
knocked him down, and seizing him by the
neck with both my hands, ran with him in
triumph to my nurse. However, the bird,
who had only been stunned, recovering
himself gave me so many boxes with his
wings, on both sides of my head and body,
though I held him at arm's-length, and
was out of the reach of his claws, that I
was twenty times thinking to let him go.
But I was soon relieved by one of our
servants, who rung off the bird's neck, and
I had him next day for dinner, by the
queen's command. This linnet, as near
as 1 can remember, seemed to be somewhat
larger than an English swan.
The maids of honour often invited
Glumdalclitch to their apartments, and
she would bring me along with

for

desitLtd

her, on purpose to have the pleasure of
seeing and touching me. They would often
strip me naked from top to toe, and lay me
at full length in their bosoms; wherewith
I was much disgusted; because, to say the
truth, a very offensive smell came from
their skins; which I do not mention, or
intend, to the disadvantage of those excel.
lent ladies, for whom I have all manner of
respect; but I conceive that my sense was
more acute in proportion to my littleness,
and that those illustrious persons were no
more disagreeable to their lovers, or to
each other, than people of the same quality
are with us in England. And, after all, 1
found their natural smell was much more
supportable, than when they used per.
fumes, under which I immediately swoon.
ed away. 1 cannot forget, that an intimate
friend of mine in Lilliput, took the freedom
in a warm day, when I had used a good
deal of exercise, to complain of a strong
smell about me, although I am as little
faulty that way, as most of my sex : but I
suppose his faculty of smelling was as nice
with regard to me, as mine was to that of
this people. Upon this point, I cannot
forbear doing justice to the queen my mistress, and Glumdalclitch my nurse, whose
persons were as sweet as those of any lady
in England.
That which gave me most uneasiness
among these maids of honour (when my
nurse carried me to visit them) was, to see
them use me without any manner of ceremony, like a creature who had no sort of
concupiscence : for they would strip themselves to the skin, and put their smocks on
in my presence, while I was placed on their
toilet, directly before their naked bodies,
which I am sure to me was very far from
being a tempting sight, or from giving me
any other emotion than those of horror and
disgust : their skins appeared so coarse and
uneven, so variously coloured, when I saw
them near, with a mole here and there as
broad as a trencher, and hairs hanging
from it thicker than packthreads, to say
nothing farther concerning the rest of their
persons. Neither did they at all scruple
while I was by, to discharge what they
had drank, to the quantity of at least two
hogsheads, in a vessel that held above
three tuns. The handsomest among these
maids of honour, a pleasant frolicsome
girl of sixteen, would sometimes set mc
astride upon one of her nipples, with many
other tricks, wherein the reader will excuse
me for not being over particular. But 1
was so much displeased, that I entreated
Glumdalclitch to contrive some excuse for
not seeing that young lady any more.
One day, a young gentleman, who was
nephew to my nurse's governess, came and
pressed them both to see an execution. It
Jwas of a man, who had murdered one of
that gentleman's intimate acquaintance.
Glumdalclitch was prevailed on to be of
the company, 'very much against her inclination, for she was naturally tenderhearted: and as for myself, although I
abhorred such kind of spectacles, yet ny
curiosity tempted me to see something that

A VOYAGE TO BROBDINGNAG

89

1 thought must be extraordinary. The infallibly have fallen down forty feet,
malefactor was fixed in a chair upon a upon the floor, if, by the luckiest chance
scaffold erected for that purpose, and his in the world, I had not been stopped by a
head cut off at one blow, with a sword of corking-pin that stuck in the good gentleabout forty feet long. The veins and ar- woman's stomacher; the head of the pin
teries spouted up such aprodigious quantity passing between my shirt and the waistof blood, and so high in the air, that the band of my breeches, and thus I was held
great jet d'eau at Versailles was not equal by the middle in the air, till Glumdalclitch
to it for the time it lasted : and the head, ran to my relief.
when it fell on the scaffold floor, gave such
Another time, one of the servants,
a bounce as made me start, although I whose office it was to fill my trough every
were at least half an English mile distant. third day with fresh water, was so careless
The queen, who often used to hear me as to let a huge frog (not perceiving it)
talk of my sea-voyages, and took all oc- slip out of hispail. The frog lay concealed
casions to divert me when I was melan- till I was put into my boat, but then,
choly, asked me whether I understood how seeing a resting-place, Climbed up, and
to handle a sail or an oar, and whether a made it lean so much on one side, that I
little exercise of rowing might not be con- was forced to balance it with all my weight
venient for my health ? I answered, that I on the other, to prevent overturning.
understood both very well: for although When the frog was got in, it hopped at
my proper employment had been to be once half the length of the boat, and then
surgeon or doctor to the ship, yet often, over my head, backward and forward,
upon a pinch, I was forced to work like a daubing my face and clothes with its
common mariner. But I could not see odious slime. The largeness of its features
how this could be done in their country, made it appear the most deformed animal
where the smallest wherry was equal to a that can be conceived. However, I
first-rate man of war among us; and such desired Glumdalclitch to let me deal with
a boat as I could manage would never live it alone. I banged it a good while with
inany of their rivers. Her majesty said, one of my sculls, and at last forced it to
"if I would contrive a boat, her own joiner leap out of the boat.
should make it, and she would provide a
But the greatest danger I ever underplace for me to sail in." The fellow was went in that kingdom, was from a monkey,
an ingenious workman, and by my in- who belonged to one of the clerks of the
structions, in ten days, finished a pleasure- kitchen. Glumdalclitch had locked me up
boat, with all its tackling, able convenient- in her closet, while she went somewhere
ly to hold eight Europeans. When it was upon business, or a visit. The weather
finished, the queen was so delighted, that being very warm, the closet-window was
she ran with it in her lap to the king, who left open, as well as the windows and
ordered it to be put into a cistern full of the door of my bigger box, in which iI
water, with me in it, by way of trial: usually lived, because of its largeness and
where I could not manage my two sculls, conveniency. As I sat quietly meditating
or little oars, for want of room. But the at my table, I heard something bounce
queen had before contrived another pro- in at the closet-window, and skip about
ject. She ordered the joiner to make a from one side to the other: whereat,
wooden trough of three hundred feet long, although I was much alarmed, yet I
fifty broad, and eight deep; which, being ventured to look out, but not stirring
well pitched, to prevent leaking, was from my seat; and then I saw this frolickplaced on the floor, along the wall, in an some animal frisking and leaping up and
outer room of the palace. It had a cock down, till at last he came to my box,
near the bottom to let out the water, when which he seemed to view with great pleait began to grow stale; and two servants sure and curiosity, peeping in at the door
could easily fill it in half an hour. Here I and every window. I retreated to the
often used to row for my own diversion, as farther corner of my room, or box; but
well as that of the queen and her ladies, the monkey looking in at every side, put
who thought themselves well entertained me in such a fright, that 1wanted presence
with my skill and agility. Sometimes I of mind to conceal myself under the bed,
would put up my sail, and then my busi- as I might easily have done. After some
ness was only to steer, while the ladies time spent in peeping, grinning, and chatgave me a gale with their fans; and, when tering, he at last espied me; and reaching
they were weary, some of their pages one of his paws in at the door, as a cat
would blow my sail forward with their does when she plays with a mouse, although
breath, while I showed my art by steering I often shifted place to avoid him, he at
starboard or larboard as I pleased. When length seized the lappet of my coat (which
I hadidone, Glumdalclitch always carried being made of that country silk, was very
back my boat into her closet, and hung it thick and strong), and dragged me out. He
on a nail to dry.
took me up in his right fore-foot and held
In this exercise I once met an accident, me as a nurse does a child she is going to
which had like to have cost me my life; suckle, just as I have seen the same sort of
for, one of the pages having put my boat creature do with a kitten in Europe; and
into the trough, the governess who attend- when I offered to struggle he squeezed me
ed Glumdalclitch very officiously lifted me so hard, that I thought it more prudent to
up,to place me in the boat : but I happen- submit. I have good reason to believe,
ed to slip through her finger4, and should that
took me for a young one of his own

he

40

species,

GULLIVER'S TRAVELS.

by his often stroking my face very
gently with his other paw. In these diversions he wa 2terrupted by a noise at
the closet door, as if somebody were oPening it : whereupon he suddenly leape, up
to the window at which he had come in,
and thence upon the leads and gutters,
walking upon three legs, and holding me
in the fourth, till he clambered up to a roof
that was next to ours. I heard Glumdalclitch give a shriek at the moment he was
carrying me out. The poor girl was almost
distracted : that quarter of the palace was
all in an uproar; the servants ran for ladders; the monkey was seen by hundreds in,
the court, sitting upon the ridge of a building, holding me like a baby in one of his
fore-paws, and feeding me with the other,
by cramming into my mouth some victuals
he had squeezed out of the bag on one side
of his chaps, and patting me when I would
not eat; whereat many of the rabble below could not forbear laughing ; neither
do I think they justly ought to be blamed,
for, without question, the sight was ridiculousenough to every body but myself.
Some of the people threw upstones, hoping
to drive the monkey down; but this was
strictly forbidden, or else, very probably,
my brains had been dashed out.
The ladders were now applied, and
mounted by several men : which the
monkey observing, and finding himself
almost encompassed, not being able to
make speed enough with his three legs, let
me drop on a ridge tile, and made his
escape. Here I sat for some time, five
hundred yards from the ground, expecting
every moment to be blown down by the
wind, or to fall by my cwn giddiness, and
come tumbling over and over from the
ridge to the eaves: but an honest lad, one
of my nurse's footmen, climbed up, and
putting me into his breeches pocket,
brought me down safe.
I was almost choked with the filthy
stuff the monkey had crammed down my
throat : but my dear little nurse picked it
out of my mouth with a small needle, and
then I fell a-vomiting, which gave me
great relief. Yet I was so weak and
bruised in the sides with the squeezes given
me by this odious animal, that I was
forced to keep my bed a fortnight. The
king, queen, and all the court, sent every
day to inquire after my health; and her
majesty made me several visits during my
sickness. The monkey was killed, and an
order made, that no such animal should
be kept about the palace.
When I attended the king after my
recovery, to return him thanks for his
favours, he was pleased to rally me a good
deal upon this adventure. He asked me,
"what my thoughts and speculations
were, while I lay in the monkey's paw;
how I liked the victuals he gave me; his
manner offeeding; and whether the fresh
air on the roof had sharpened my stomach."
He desired to know, " what I would have
done upon such an occasion in my own
country,"
I told his majesty, " that in
Europe we had no monkeys except such

as were brought for curiosities from other
places, and so small, that I could deal with
a dozen of them together, if they presumed
to attack me. And as for that monstrous
animal, with whom I was so lately engaged
(it was indeed as large as an elephant), if
my fears had suffered me to think so far,
as to make use of my hanger (looking
fiercely, and clapping my hand on the hilt,
as I spoke) when he poked his paw into my
chamber, perhaps I should have given him
such a wound, as would have made him
glad to withdraw it, with more haste than
he put it in." This I delivered in a firm
tone, like a person who was jealous lest his
courage should be called in question.
However, my speech produced nothing
else beside a loud laughter, which all the
respect due to his majesty from those about
him could not make them contain. This
made me reflect, how vain an attempt it is
for a man to endeavour to do himself
honour among those who are out of all
degree of equality or comparison with him.
And yet I have seen the moral of my own
behaviour very frequent in England since
my return; where a little contemptible
varlet, without the least title to birth,
person, wit, or common sense, shall pre.
sume to look with importance, and put
himself upon a foot with the greatest per.
sons of the kingdom.
I was every day furnishing the court
with some ridiculous story; and Glumdal.
clitch, although she loved me to excess,
yet was arch enough to inform the queen,
whenever I committed any folly that she
thought would be diverting to hermajesty.
The girl, who had been out of order, was
carried by her governess to take the air
about an hour's distance, or thirty miles
fromtown. They alighted out of the coach
near a small foot-path in a field, and Glum.
dalclitch setting down my travelling box,
I went out of it to walk. There was a
cow-dung in the path, and I must need
try my activity by attempting to leap over
it. 1 took a run, but unfortunately jump.
ed short, and found myself just in the
middle, up to my knees. I waded through
with some difficulty, and one of the foot.
men wiped me as clean as he could with
his handkerchief, for I was filthily bemired; and my nurse confined me to my
box, till we returned home; where the
queen was soon informed of what had
passed, and the footmen spread it about
the court: so that all the mirth for some
days was at my expense.
CHAPTER VI.
Several contrivances of the Author, to
his
please the King and Queen. He shows
skill in music. The King inquires into
the state of England, which the Author
relates to him. The King's observations
thereon.
I USED to attend the king's levee once or
twice a week, and had often seen him

A VOYAGE TO BROBDINGNAG.
under the barber's hand, which indeed
was at first very terrible to behold; for the
razor was almost twice as long as an
ordinary scythe. His majesty, according
to the custom of the country, was only
shaved twice a-week. I once prevailed on
the barber to give me some of the suds or
lather, out of which I picked forty or fifty
of the strongest stumps of hair. I then
took a piece of fine wood, and cut it like
the back of a comb, making several holes
in it at equal distances with as small a
needle as I could get from Glumdalclitch.
I fixed in the stumps so artificially,
scraping and sloping them with my knife
toward the points, that I made a very
tolerable comb; which was a seasonable
supply, my own being so much broken in
the teeth, that it was almost useless :
neither did I know any artist in that
country so nice and exact, as would undertake to make me another.
And this puts me in mind of an amusement, wherein I spent many of my leisure
hours. I desired the queen's woman to
save for me the combings of her majesty's
hair, whereof in time I got a good quantity; and consulting with my friend the
cabinet-maker, who had received general
orders to do little jobs for me, I directed
him to make two chair-frames, no larger
than those I had in my box, and to bore
little holes with a fine awl, round those
parts where I designed the backs and
seats; through these holes I wove the
strongest hairs I could pick out, just after
the manner of cane chairs in England.
When they were finished, I made a present of them to her majesty; who kept
them in her cabAnet, and used to show
them for curiosities, as indeed they were
the wonder of every one that beheld them.
The queen would have had me sit upon
one of these chairs, but I absolutely refused to obey her, protesting I would
rather die a thousand deaths, than place a
dishonourable part of my body on those
precious hairs, that once adorned her
majesty's head. Of these hairs (as I had
always a mechanical genius) I likewise
made a neat little purse, about five feet
long, with her majesty's name deciphered
in gold letters, which I gave to Glumdalclitch by the queen's consent. To say the
truth, it was more for show than use,
being not of strength to bear the weight of
the larger coins, and therefore she kept
pnothing in it but some little toys that girls
are fond of.
The king, who delighted in music, had
frequent concerts at court, to which I was
sometimes carried, and set in my box on a
table to hear them: but the noise was so
great that I could hardly distinguish the
tunes. I am confident that all the drums
and trumpets of a royal army, beating and
sounding together just at your ears, could
not equal it. My practice was to have my
box removed from the place where the
pcrformers sat, as far as I could, then to
shut the doors and windows of it, and draw
the window curtains; after which I found
their music not disagreeable.

41

I had learned in my youth to play a little
upon the spinet. Glumdalclitch kept one
in her chamber, and a master attended
twice a-week to teach her : I called it a
spinet, because it somewhat resembled that
instrument, and was played upon in the
same manner. A fancy came into my
head, that I would entertain the king and
queen with an English tune upon this
instrument. But this appeared extremely
difficult : for the spinet was near sixty feet
long, each key being almost a foot wide, so
that with my arms extended I could not
reach to above five keys, and to press them
down required a good smart stroke with
my fist, which would be too great a labour,
and to no purpose. The method I contrived was this: I prepared two round
sticks, about the bigness of common
cudgels; they were thicker at one end
than the other, and I covered the thicker
ends with pieces of a mouse's skin, that by
rapping on them I might neither damage
the tops of the keys nor interrupt the
sound. Before the spinet a bench was
placed, about four feet below the keys, and
I was put upon the bench. I ran sideling
upon it, that way and this, as fast as I
could, banging the proper keys with my
two sticks, and made a shift to play a jig,
to the great satisfaction of both their
majesties; but it was the most violent
exercise I ever underwent; and yet I
could not strike above sixteen keys, nor
consequently play the bass and treble
together, as other artists do; which was a
great disadvantage to my performance.
The king, who, as I before observed,
was a prince of excellent understanding,
would frequently order that I should be
brought in my box, and set upon the table
in his closet : he would then command me
to bring one of my chairs out of the box,
and sit down within three yards' distance
upon the top of the cabinet, which brought
me almost to a level with his face. In
this manner I had several conversations
with him. I one day took the freedom to
tell his majesty, "that the contempt he discovered towards Europe, and the rest of
the world, did not seem answerable to
those excellent qualities of mind that he
was master of; that reason did not extend
itself with the bulk of the body; on the
contrary, we observed in our country, that
the tallest persons were usually the least
provided with it: that among other animals,
bees and ants had the reputation of more
industry, art, and sagacity, than many of
the larger kinds; and that, as inconsiderable as he took me to be, I hoped I might
live to do his majesty some signal service."
The king heard me with attention, and
began to conceive a much better opinion of
me than he had ever before. He desired I
would give him as exact an account of
the government of England as I possibly
could; because, as fond as other princes
commonly are of their own customs (for
so he conjectured other monarchs by my
former discourses), he should be glad to
hear of any thing that might deserve
i,

4

GULLIVER'S TRAVELS.

Imagine with thyself, courteous reader, finished all with a brief historical account
now often I then wished for the tongue of of affairs and events in England for about
Demosthenes or Cicero, that might have a hundred years past.
enabled me to celebrate the praise of my
This conversation was not ended under
own dear native country, in a style equal five audiences, each of several hours; and
to its merits and felicity.
the king heard the whole with great
I began my discourse by informing his attention, frequently taking notes of what
majesty, that our dominions consisted of I spoke, as well as memorandums of what
two islands, which composed three mighty questions he intended to ask me.
kingdoms, under one sovereign, beside our
When I had put an end to these long
plantations in America. I dwelt long upon discourses, his majesty, in a sixth audience,
the fertility of our soil, and the temperature consultinghis notes, proposed many doubts,
of our climate. I then spoke at large upon queries, and objections, upon every article.
the constitution of an English parliament; He asked, ' what methods were used to
partly made up of an illustrious body cultivate the minds and bodies of our
called the house of peers ; persons of the young nobility, and in what kind of businoblest blood, and of the most ancient ness they commonly spent the first and
and ample patrimonies. I described that teachable parts of their lives ? What course
extraordinary care always taken of their was taken to supply that assembly, when
education in arts and arms, to qualify any noble family became extinct? What
them for being counsellors both to the qualifications were necessary in those who
king and kingdom; to have a share in the are to be created new lords : whether the
legislature; to be members of the highest humour of the prince, a sum of money to
court of judicature, whence there can be a court lady, or a design of strengthening
no appeal; and to be champions always a party opposite to the public interest, ever
ready for the defence of their prince and happened to be the motives in those adcountry, by their valour, conduct, and vancements ? What share of knowledge
fidelity. That these were the ornament these lords had in the laws of their counand bulwark of the kingdom, worthy try, and how they came by it, so as to
followers of their most renowned ancestors, enable them to decide the properties
whose honour had been the reward of of their fellow-subjects, in the last resort ?
their virtue, from which their posterity Whether they were always so free from
were never once known to degenerate. To avarice, partialities, or want, that a bribe,
these were joined several holy persons, as or some other sinister view, could have no
part-of that assembly, under the title of place among them ? Whether those holy
bishops, whose peculiar business is to take lords I spoke of were always promoted
care of religion, and of those who instruct to that rank upon account of their knowthe people therein. These were searched ledge in religious matters, and the sanctity
and sought out through the whole nation, of their lives; had neyer been compliers
by the prince and his wisest counsellors, with the times, while they were common
among such of the priesthood as were priests.; or slavish prostitute chaplains to
most deservedly distinguished by the some nobleman, whose opinions they consanctity of their lives, and the depth of* tinued servilely to follow, after they were
their erudition; who were indeed the admitted into that assembly ?'
spiritual fathers of the clergy and the
He then desired to know, 'what arts
people.
I
were practised in electing those whom I
That the other part of the parliament called commoners: whether a stranger,
consisted of an assembly called the house with a strong purse, might not influence
of commons, who were all principal gentle- the vulgar voters to choose him before
men, freely picked and culled out by the their own landlord, or the most considerpeople themselves, for their great abilities able gentleman in the neighbourhood ?
and love of their country, to represent the How it came to pass, that people were so
wisdom of the whole nation. And that violently bent upon getting into this
these two bodies made up the most august assembly, which I allowed to be a great
assembly in Europe; to whom, in cotl- trouble and expense, often to the ruin of
junction with the prince, the whole legis- their families, without any salary or penlature is committed.
sion; because this appeared such an exalted
I then descended to the courts of justice; strain of virtue and public spirit, that his
over which the judges, those venerable majesty seemed to doubt it might possibly
sages and interpreters of the law, presided, not be always sincere?' And he desired
for determining the disputed rights and to know, 'whether such zealous gentleproperties of men, as well as for the pun- men could have any views of refunding
ishment of vice and protection of in- themselves for the charges and trouble
nocence. I mentioned the prudent man- they were at by sacrificing the public good
agement of our treasury; the valour and to the designs of a weak and vicious prince,
achievements of our forces, by sea and in conjunction with a corrupted :ministry?'
land. I computed the number of our Ile multiplied his questions, and sifted me
people, by reckoning how many millions thoroughly upon every part of this head,
there might be of each religious sect, or proposing numberless inquiries and objecpolitical party among us. I did not omit tions, which I think it not prudent or coneven our sports and pastimes, or any other venient to repeat.
particular which I thought might redound
Upon what I said in relation to our
to the honour of my country. And I courts of justice, his majesty desired to be

A VOYAGE TO BROBDINGNAG.
satisfied in several points: and this I was
the better able to do, having been formerly
almost ruined by a long suit in chancery,
which was decreed for me with costs. He
asked ' what time was usually spent in
determining between right and wrong, and
what degree of expense ? Whether advocates and orators had liberty to plead in
causes manifestly known to be unjust,
vexatious, or oppressive? Whether party,
in religion or politics, were observed to be of
any weight in the scale of justice ? Whether
those pleading orators were persons educated in the general knowledge of equity,
or only in provincial, national, and other
local customs ? Whether they or their
judges had any part in penning those laws,
which they assumed the liberty of interpreting, and glossing upon at their pleasure? Whether they had ever, at different
times, pleaded for and against the same
cause, and cited precedents to prove contrary opinions? Whether they were a rich
or a poor corporation ? Whether they received any pecuniary reward for pleading,
or delivering their opinions? And particularly, whether they were ever admitted as
members in the lower senate ?'
He fell next upon the management of
our treasury; and said, ' he thought my
memory had failed me, because I computed
our taxes at about five or six millions
a-year, and when I came to mention the
issues, he found they sometimes amounted
to more than double; for the notes he had
taken were very particular in this point,
because he hoped, as he told me, that the
knowledge of our conduct might be useful
to him, and he could not be deceived in his
calculations. But, if what I told him were
true, he was still at a loss how a kingdom
could run out of its estate, like a private
person.' He asked me, ' who were our
creditors; and where we found money to
pay them ?' He wondered to hear me talk
of such chargeable and expensive wars;
'that certainly we :must be a quarrelsome
people, or live among very bad neighbours,
and that our generals must needs be richer
than our kings.' He asked, ' what business we had out of our own islands, unless
upon the score of trade, or treaty, or to
defend the coasts with our fleet ?' Above
all, he was amazed to hear me talk of a
mercenary standing army, in the midst of
eace, and among a free people. He said,
if we were governed by our own consent,
in the persons of our representatives, he
could not imagine of whom we were afraid,
or against whom we were to fight; and
would hear my opinion, whether a private
man's house might not be better defended
by himself, his children, and family, than
by half a dozen rascals, picked up at a yenture in the streets for small wages, who
might get a hundred times more by cutting
their throats ?'
He laughed at my ' odd kind of arithmetic,' as he was pleased to call it, 'in
reckoning the numbers of our people, by a
computation drawn from the several sects
among us, in religion and politics.' He
said, he knew no reason why those, who

48

entertain opinions prejudicial to the public,
should be obliged to change, or should not
be obliged to conceal them. And as it was
tyranny in any government to require the
first, so it was weakness not to enforce the
second: for a man may be allowed to keep
poisons in his closet, but not to vend them
about for cordials.'
He observed, ' that among the diversions of our nobility and gentry, 1 had
mentioned gaming: he desired to know at
what age this entertainment was usually
taken up, and when it was laid down; how
much of their time it employed : whether
it ever went so high as to affect their for.
tunes; whether mean vicious people, by
their dexterity in that art, might not arrive
at great riches, and sometimes keep our
very nobles in dependence, as well as habituate them to vile companions; wholly
take them from the improvement of their
minds, and force them, by the losses they
received, to learn and practise that infamous dexterity upon others.'
He was perfectly astonished with the
historical account I gave him of our affairs
during the last century; protesting it was
only a heap of conspiracies, rebellions,
murders, massacres, revolutions, banishments, the very worst effects that avarice,
faction, hypocrisy, perfidiousness, cruelty,
rage, madness, hatred, envy, lust, malice,
and ambition, could produce.
His majesty, in another audience, was at
the pains to recapitulate the sum of all I
had spoken; compared the questions he
made with the answers I had given; then
taking me into his hands, and stroking me
gently, delivered himself in these words,
which I shall never forget, nor the manner
he spoke them in : ' My little friend Grildrig, you have made a most admirable
panegyric upon your country; you have
clearly proved, that ignorance, idleness,
and vice, are the proper ingredients for
qualifying a legislator; that laws are best
explained, interpreted, and applied, by
those whose interest and abilities lie in
perverting, confounding, and eluding them.
I observe among you some lines of an institution, which in its original might have
been tolerable, but these half erased, and
the rest wholly blurred and blotted by corruptions. It does not appear, from all you
have said, how any one perfection is required toward the procurement of any one
station among you; much less, that men
are ennobled on account of their virtue;
that priests are advanced for their piety or
learning; soldiers, for their conduct or
valour; judges, for their integrity; senators, for the love of their country ; or
counsellors for their wisdom. As for yourself,' continued the king, ' who have
spent the greatest part of your life in
travelling, I am well disposed to hope you
may hitherto have escaped many vices of
your country. But by what I have gathered from your own relation, and the answers
1 have with much pains wrung and extorted from you, I cannot but conclude the
bulk of your natives to be the most pernicious race of little odious vermin that

44

GULLIVER'S TRAVELS.

nature ever suffered to crawl upon the brass or iron, according to its bigness,
surface of the eartth.
would drive a ball of iron or lead, with
such violence and speed, as nothing was
able to sustain its force. That the largest
balls thus discharged, would not only deCHAPTER VII.
stroy whole ranks of an army at once, but
batter the strongest walls to the ground
The Author's love of his country. He makes sink down ships, with a thousand men in
a proposalof much advantage to the King, each, to the bottom of the sea ; and when
which is rejected. The King's great gnor- linked together by a chain, would cut
ance in politics. The learning qf that through masts and rigging, divide hundreds
country very imperfect and confined. The of bodies in the middle, and lay all waste
laws, and militaryaffhirs, and partzes in before them. That we often put this powthe state.
der into large hollow balls of iron, and
discharged them by an engine into some
NOTHING but an extreme love of truth city we were besieging, which would rip
could have hindered me from concealing up the pavements, tear the houses to pieces,
this part of my story. It was in vain to burst and throw splinters on every side,
discover my resentments, which were dashing out the brains of all who came
always turned into ridicule; and I was near. That I knew the ingredients very
forced to rest with patience, while my noble well, which were cheap and common; I
and beloved country was so injuriously understood the manner of compounding
treated. I am as heartily sorry as any of them, and could direct his workmen how
my readers can possibly be, that such an to make those tubes, of a size proportionoccasion was given: but this prince hap- able to all other things in his majesty's
pened to be so curious and inquisitive upon kingdom, and the largest need not be above
every particular, that it could not consist a hundred feet long; twenty or thirty of
either with gratitude or good manners, to which tubes, charged with the proper
refuse giving him what satisfaction I was quantity of powder and balls, would batter
able. Yet thus much I may be allowed to down the walls of the strongest town in his
say in my own vindication, that I artfully dominions, in a few hours, or destroy the
eluded many of his questions, and gave to whole metropolis, if ever it should pretend
every point a more favourable turn, by to dispute his absolute commands. This I
many degrees, than the strictness of truth humbly offered to his majesty, as a small
would allow. For I have always borne tribute of acknowledgment, in turn for so
that laudable partiality to my own country, many marks that I had received, of his
which Dionysius Halicarnassensis, with so royal favour and protection.'
much justice, recommends to an historian:
The king was struck with horror at the
I would hide the frailties and deformities description I had given of those terrible
of my political mother, and place her engines, and the proposal I had made.
virtues and beauties in the most advanta 'He wis amazed, how so impotent and
geous light. This was my sincere endea- grovelling an insect as I' (these were his
your in those many discourses I had with expressions) ' could entertain such inhu.
that monarch, although it unfortunately man ideas, and in so familiar a manner, as
tailed of success.
to appear wholly unmoved at all the scenes
But great allowances should be given to of blood and desolation, which I had paint.
a king, who lives wholly secluded from the ed, as the common effects of those destruc.
rest of the world, and must therefore be tive machines; whereof,' he said, ' some
altogether unacquainted with the manners evil genius, enemy to mankind, must have
and customs that most prevail in other been the first contriver. As for himself,
nations: the want of which knowledge he protested, that although few things
will ever produce many prejudices, and a delighted him so much as new discoveries
certain narrowness of thinking, from which in art, or in nature, yet he would rather
we, and the politer countries of Europe, lose half his kingdom, than be privy to
are wholly exempted. And it would be such a secret; which he commanded me,
bard indeed, if so remote a prince's notions as I valued my life, never to mention any
of virtue and vice were to be offered as a more.'
standard for all mankind.
A strange effect of narrow principles
To confirm what I have now said, and and views ! that a prince possessed of every
further to show the miserable effects of a quality which procures veneration, love,
confined education, I shall here insert a and esteem; of strong parts, great wisdom,
passage, which will hardly obtain belief, and profound learning, endowed with ad.
In hopes to ingratiate myself further into mirable talents, and almost adored by his
his majesty's favour, I told him of ' an subjects, should, from a nice unnecessary
invention, discovered between three and scruple, whereof in Europe we can have no
four hundred years ago, to make a certain conception, let slip an opportunity put into
powder, into a heap of which, the smallest his hands that would have made him abso.
spark of fire falling, would kindle the whole lute master of the lives, the liberties, and
in a moment, although it were as big as a the fortunes of his people. Neither d( I
mountain, and make it all fly up in the air say this, with the least intentiop to detract
together, with a noise and agitation greater from the many virtues of that excellent
than thunder. That a proper quantity of king, whose character, I am sensible, will,
this powder rammed into a hollow tube of on this account, be very much lessened in

A VOYAGE TO BROBDINGNAG.
the opinion of an English reader : but I
take this defect among them to have risen
from their ignorance, by not having hitherto reduced politics into a science, as the
more acute wits of Europe have done.
For, I remember very well, in a discourse
one day with the king, when I happened
to say, 'there were several thousand books
among us written upon the art of government,' it gave him (directly contrary to
my intention) a very mean opinion of our
understandings.
He professed both to
abominate and despise all mystery, refinement, and intrigue, either in a prince or a
minister. He could not tell what I meant
by secrets of state, where an enemy, or
some rival nation, were not in the case.
He confined the knowledge of governing
within very narrow bounds, to common
sense and reason, to justice and lenity, to
the speedy determination of civil and
criminal causes; with some other obvious
Zopics, which are not worth considering.
And he gave it for his opinion, 'that whoever could make two ears of corn, or two
blades of grass to grow upon a spot of
ground, where only one grew before,
would deserve better of mankind, and do
more essential service to his country, than
the whole race of politicians put together."
The learning of this people is very defective; consisting only in morality, history,
poetry, and mathematics, wherein they
must be allowed to excel. But the last of
these is wholly applied to what may be
useful in life, to the improvement of agriculture, and all mechanical arts; so that
among us, it would be little esteemed. And
as to ideas, entities, abstractions, and
transcendentals, I could never drive the
least conception of them into their heads.
No law in that country must exceed in
words the number of letters in their alphabet, which consists only of two and twenty.
But indeed few of them extend even to
that length. They are expressed in the
most plain and simple terms, wherein
those people are not mercurial enough to
discover above one interpretation: and to
write a comment upon any law, is a capital
crime. As to the decision of civil causes,
or proceedings against
criminals, their precedents are so few, that they have little
reason to boast of any extraordinary skill
in either
They have had the art of printing, as
well as the Chinese, time out of mind: but
their libraries are not very large; for that
of the king, which is reckoned the largest,
does not amount to above a thousand volumes, placed in a gallery of twelve hundred
feet long, whence I had liberty to borrow
what books I pleased. The queen's joiner
had contrived in one of Glumdalclitch's
rooms, a kind of wooden machine five-andtwenty feet high, formed like a standing
ladder; the steps were each fifty feet long :
it was indeed a moveable pair of stairs, the
lowest end placed at ten feet distance from
the wall of the chamber. The book I had
a mind to read, was put up leaning against
the wall: T first mounted to the upper step
of theladder, and turning my face towards

45

the book, began at the top of the page, and
so walking to the right and left about eight
or ten paces, according to the length of the.
lines, till I had gotten a little below the
level of mine eyes, and then descending
gradually till I came to the bottom : after
which I mounted again, and began the
other page in the same manner, and so
turned over the leaf, which I could easily
do with both my hands, for it was as thick
and stiffas a pasteboard, and in the largest
folios not above eighteen or twenty feet
long.
Their style is clear, masculine, and
smooth, but not florid ; for they avoid
nothing more than multiplying unnecessary words, or using various expressions.
I have perused many of their books, especially those in history and morality. Among
the rest, I was much diverted with a little
old treatise, which always lay in Glumdalclitch's bedchamber, and belonged to her
governess, a grave elderly gentlewoman,
who dealt in writings of morality and devotion. The book treats of the weakness
of human kind, and is in little esteem,
except among the women and the vulgar.
However, I was curious to see what an
author of that country could say upon such
a subject. This writer went through all
the usual topics of European moralists,
showing 'how diminutive, contemptible,
and helpless an animal was man in his own
nature; how unable to defend himself
from inclemencies of the air, or the fury
of wild beasts: how much he was excelled
by one creature in strength, by another in
speed, by a third in foresight, by a fourth
in industry.' He added, ' that nature
was degenerated in these latter declining
ages of the world, and could now produce
only small abortive births, in comparison
of those in ancient times.' He said 'it
was very reasonable to think, not only that
the species of men were originally much
larger, but also that there must have been
giants in former ages ; which, as it is
asserted by history and tradition, so it has
been confirmed by huge bones and skulls,
casually dug up in several parts of the
kingdom, far exceeding the comsbor
dwindled race of men in our days.' He
argued, ' that the very laws of nature
absolutely required we should have been
made, in the beginning, of a size more
large and robust; soliable to destruc.
not
tion from every little accident, of a tile
falling from a house, or a stone cast from
the hand of a boy, or being drowned in a
little brook.' From this way of reasoning,
the author drew several moral applications,
useful in the conduct of life, but needless
here to repeat. For my own part, I could
not avoid reflecting how universally this
talent was spread, of drawing lectures in
morality, or indeed rather matter of dis.
content and repining, from the quarrels
we raise with nature. And I believe, upon
a strict inquiry, those quarrels might be
shown as ill-grounded among us as they are
among that people.*
* The author's zeal tojastAty
Providence hal

GULLIVER'S TRAVELS.

46

As to their military affairs, they boast
that the king's army consists of a hundred
and seventy-six thousand foot, and thirtytwo thousand horse: if that may be called
an army, which is made up of tradesmen
in the several cities, and farmers in the
country, whose commanders are only the
nobility and gentry, without pay or reward.
They are indeed perfect enough in their
exercises, and under very good discipline,
wherein I saw no great merit; for how
should it be otherwise, where every farmer
is under the command of his own landlord,
and every citizen under that of the principal men in his own city, chosen after the
manner of Venice, by ballot ?
I have often seen the militia of Lorbrulgrud drawn out to exercise, in a great
field near the city of twenty miles square.
They were in all not above twenty-five
thousand foot, and six thousand horse;
but it was impossible for me to compute
their number, considering the space of
ground they took up. A cavalier, mounted on a large steed, might be about ninety
feet high. I have seen this whole body of
horse, upon a word of command, draw
their swords at once, and brandish them in
the air. Imagination can figure nothing
so grand, so surprising, and so astonishing!
it looked as if ten thousand flashes of lightning were darting at the same time from
every quarter of the sky.
I was curious to know how this prince,
to whose dominions there is no access from
any other country, came to think of armiec,
or to teach his people the practice of military discipline. But I. was soon informed,
both by conversation and reading their
histories; for, in the course of many ages,
they have been troubled with the same
Sdisease to which the whole race of mankind
is subject; the nobility often contending
for power, the people for liberty, and the
king for absolute dominion. All which,
however happily tempered by the laws of
that kingdom, have been sometimes violated by each of the three parties, and have
more than once occasioned civil wars; the
last whereof was happily put an end to, by
this prince's grandfather, in a general
composition; and the militia, then settled
with common consent, has been ever since
kept in the strictest duty.

CHAPTER VIII.
The King and Queen make a progress to the
frontiers. The Author attends them. The
-nanner in which he leaves the country
very particularly related He returns to
England.
I HAD always a strong impulse that I should
some time recover my liberty, though it
before been remarked; and these quarrels with
nature, or in other words with God, could not
have been more forcibly reproved than by showing
that the complaints upon which they are founded
mould be equally specious among b.ings of such
superioxity sf stature A.1 strength.-

ustonirhing

H.

was impossible to conjecture by what
means, or to form any project with the
least hope of succeeding. The ship in
which I sailed, was the first ever known
to be driven within sight of that coast, and
the king had given strict orders, ' that if
at any time another appeared, it should be
taken ashore, and with all its crew and
passengers brought in a tumbril to Lor.
brulgrud.' He was strongly bent to get me
a woman of my own size, by whom I might
propagate the breed : but I think I should
rather have died than undergone the dis.
grace of leaving a posterity to be kept in
cages, like tame canary.birds, and perhaps,
in time, sold about the kingdom, to persons
of quality, for curiosities. I was indeed
.reated with much kindness: I was the
favourite of a great king and queen, and
the delight of the whole court; but it was
upon such a foot as ill became the dignity
of humankind. I could never forget those
domestic pledges I had left behind me. I
wanted to be among people, with whom I
could converse upon even terms, and walk
about the streets and fields without being
afraid of being trod to death like a frog or
a young puppy. But my deliverance came
sooner than I expected, and in a manner
not very common; the whole story and
circumstances of which I shall faithfully
relate.
I had now been two years in this country; and about the beginning of the third,
Glumdalclitch and I attended the king and
queen, in a progress to the south coast of
the kingdom. I was carried, as usual, in
my travelling-box, which as I have already
described, was a very convenient closet, of
twelve feet wide. And I had ordered a
hammock to be fixed, by silken ropes from
the four corners at the top, to break the
jolts, when a servant carried me before
him on horseback, as I sometimes desired;
and would often sleep in my hammock,
while we were upon the road. On the
roof of my closet, not directly over the
middle of the hammock, I ordered the
joiner to cut out a hole of a foot square, to
give me air in hot weather, as I slept;
which hole I shut at pleasure with a board
that drew backward and forward through
a groove.
When we came to our journey's end,
the king thought proper to pass a few
days at a palace he has near Flanflasnic, a
city within eighteen English miles of the
sea-side. Glumdalclitch and I were much
fatigued : I had gotten a small cold, but the
poor girl was so ill as to be confined to her
chamber. I longed to see the ocean, which
must be the only scene of my escape, if
ever it should happen. I pretended to be
worse than I really was, and desired leave
to take the fresh air of the sea, with a
page, whom I was very fond of, and who
had sometimes been trusted with me. I
shall never forget with what unwillingness
Glumdalclitch consented, nor the strict
charge she gave the page to be careful of
me, bursting at the same time into a flood
of tears, as if she had some forboding of
what was to happen. The boy took me out

A VOYAGE TO BROBDINGNAG.
in my box, about half an hour's walk from
the palace, towards the rocks on the seashore. I ordered him to set me down,
and lifting up one of my sashes, cast many
a wistful melancholy look towards the sea,
I found myself not very well, and told the
page that I had a mind to take a nap in my
hamraock, which I hoped would do me
good. I got in, and the boy shut the
window close down, to keep out the cold.
I soon fell asleep, and all I can conjecture
is, while I slept, the page, thinking no
danger couldhappen, went among the
rocks to look for birds' eggs, having before
observed him from my window searching
about, and picking up one or two in the
clefts. Be that as it will, I found myself
suddenly awaked with a violent pull upon
the ring, which was fastened at the top of
my box for the conveniency of carriage. I
felt my box raised very high in the air,
and then borne forward with prodigious
speed. The first jolt had like to have
shaken me out of my hammock, but afterward the motion was easy enough. I
called out several times, as loud as I could
raise my voice, but all to no purpose. I
looked towards my windows, and could see
nothing but the clouds and sky. I heard a
noise just over my head, like the clapping
of wings, and then began to perceive the
woful condition 1 was in; that some eagle
had got the ring of my box in his beak,
with an intent to let it fall on a rock, like
a tortoise in a shell, and then pick out my
body, and devour it: for the sagacity and
smell of this bird enables him to discover
his quarry at a great distance, though
better concealed than I could be within a
two-inch board.
In a little time, 1 observed the noise and
flutter of wings to increase very fast, and
my box was tossed up and down, like a
sign in a windy day. I heard several bangs
or buffets, as I thought given to the eagle
(for such I am certain it must have been
that held the ring of my box in his beak),
and then, all on a sudden, felt myself
falling perpendicularly down, for above a
minute, but with such incredible swiftness,
that I almost lost my breath. My fall was
stopped by a terrible squash, that sounded,
louder to my ears than the cataract of
Niagara;
after which, I was quite in
the dark for another minute, and then my
box began to rise so high, that I could see
light from the tops of the windows. I now
perceived I was fallen into the sea. My
box, by the weight of my body, the goods
that were in, and the broad plates of iron
fixed for strength at the four corners of
the top and bottom, floated about five feet
deep in water. 1 did then, and do now
uppose, that the eagle which flew away
with my box was pursued by two or three
others, and forced to let me drop, while he
defended himself against the rest, who

*

47

hoped to share in the prey. The plates of
iron fastened at the bottom of the box
(for those were the strongest) preserved
the balance while it fell, and hindered it
from being broken on the surface of the
water. Every joint of it was well grooved;
and the door did not move on hinges, but
up and down like a sash, which kept my
closet so tight that very little water came
in. I got with much difficulty out of my
hammock, having first ventured to draw
back the slip-board on the roof already
mentioned, contrived on purpose to let in
air, for want of which I found myself almost stifled.
How often did I then wish myself with
my dear Glumdalclitch, from whom one
single hour had so far divided me! And I
may say with truth, that in the midst of
my own misfortunes I could not forbear
lamenting my poor nurse, the grief she
would suffer for my loss, the displeasure
of the queen, and the ruin of her fortune.
Perhaps many travellers have not been
under greater difficulties and distress than
I was at this juncture, expecting every
moment to see my box dashed to pieces, or
at least overset by the first violent blast, or
rising wave. A breach in one single pane
of glass would have been immediate death :
nor could any thing have preserved the
windows, but the strong lattice wires
placed on the outside, against accidents in
travelling. I saw the water ooze in at
several crannies, although the leaks were
not considerable, and I endeavoured to
stop them as well as I could. I was not
able to lift up the roof of my closet, which
otherwise I certainly should have done,
and sat on the top of it; where I might at
least preserve myself some hours longer,
than by being shut up (as I may call it)
in the hold. Or if I escaped these dangers
for a day or two, what could I expect, but
a miserable death of cold and hunger ? I
was four hours under these circumstances,
expecting, and indeed wishing, every mo.
ment to be my last.
I have already told the reader that there
were two strong staples fixed upon that
side of my box which had no window, and
into which the servant, who used to carry
me on horseback, would put a leathernbelt,
and buckle it about his waist. Being in
this disconsolate state, I heard, or at least
thought I heard, some kind of grating
noise on that side of my box where the
staples were fixed; and soon after I began
to fancy that the box was pulled or towed
along the sea; for I now and then felt a
sort of tugging, which made the waves
rise near the tops of my windows, leaving
me almost in the dark. This gave me
some faint hopes of relief, although I was
not able to imagine how it could be brought
about. I ventured to unscrew one of my
chairs, which were always fastened to the
floor; and having made a hard shift to

* This cataract isproduced by the fall ofa con- screw it down again, directly under the
lux of water (formedof the four vast lakes of slipping-board that I had lately opened, I
Canada)
from a rockyprecipice, the perpendisular mounted on the chair, and putting my
height of which is one hundred and thirty-seven
feet; and it is said to have been heardfen mouth as near as I coud to the holeand
, I

leagues-H.

called for help in a loud voice, and inall

1t2

GULLIVER'S

48

TRAVELS

the languages I understood. I then ready to fint, took me into his cabin,
fastened my handkerchief to a stick I :,gave me a cordial to comfort me, and made
usually carried, and, thrusting it up the lme turn in upon his own bed, advising me
hole, waved it several times in the air, to take a little rest, of which I had great
.hat if any boat or ship were near, the sea- need. Before I wentto sleep, I gave him
men might conjecture some unhappy to understand that I had some valuable
mortal to be shuit up in the box.
furniture in my box, too good to be lost; a
I found no effect from all I could do, but fine hammock, a handsome field-bed, two
plainly perceived my closet to be moved chairs, a table, and a cabinet; that my
along; and in the space of an hour, or closet was hung on all sides, or rather
better, that side of the box where the i quilted, with silk and cotton: that if he
staples were, and had no windows, struck would let one of the crew bring my closet
against something that was hard. I ap- into his cabin, 1 would open it there before
prehended it tobe a rock, and found myself him, and show him my goods. The captain,
tossed more than ever. I plainly heard a hearing me utter these absurdities, connoise upon the cover of my closet, like cluded I was raving; however (I suppose
that of a cable, and the grating of it as it to pacify me) he promised to give order as
passed through the ring. I then found I desired, and going upon deck, sent some
myself hoisted up, by degrees, at least of his men down into my closet, whence
three feet higher than I was before. (as I afterwards found) they drew up all
Whereupon I again thrust up my stick my goods, and stripped off the quilting;
and handkerchief, calling for help till I but the chairs, cabinet, and bedstead, being
was almost hoarse. In return to which, I screwed to the floor, were much damaged
heard a great shout repeated three times, by the ignorance of the seamen, who tore
giving me such transports of joy, as are them up by force. Then they knocked off
not to be conceived but by those who feel some of the boards for the use of the ship,
them. I now heard a trampling over my and when they had got all they had a mind
head, and somebody calling through the for, let the hull drop into the sea, which
hole with a loud voice, in the English by reason of many breaches made in the
tongue, ' If there be any body below, let bottom and sides, sunk to rights. And,
I was an indeed, I was glad not to have been a
them speak.' I answered,
Englishman, drawn by ill fortune into the spectator of the havoc they made; begreatest calamity that ever any creature cause I am confident it would have sensiunderwent, and begged, by all that was bly touched me, by bringing former
moving, to be delivered out of the dungeon passages into my mind, which I would
I was in.' The voice replied, ' I was safe, rather have forgot.
I slept some hours, but perpetually disfor my box was fastened to their ship; and
the carpenter should immediately come turbed with dreams of the place I had left,
and saw a hole in the cover, large enough and the dangers I had escaped. However,
to pull me out.' I answered, 'that was upon waking, I found myself much reneedless, and would take up too much covered. It was now about eight o'clock
time; for there was no more to be done, at night, and the captain ordered supper
but let one of the crew put his finger into immediately, thinking I had already fasted
the ring, and take the box out of the sea too long. He entertained me with great
into the ship, and so into the captain's kindness, observing me not to look wildly,
cabin.'* Some of them, upon hearing me or talk inconsistently : and, when we were
talk so wildly, thought I was mad: others left alone, desired I would give him a
laughed; for indeed it never came into my relation of my travels, and by what acci.
head, that I was now got among people of dent I came to be set adrift, in that monmy own stature and strength. The car- strous wooden chest. He said, 'that about
penter came, and in a few minutes sawed twelve o'clock at noon, as he was looking
a passage about four feet square, then let through his glass, he spied it at a distance,
down a small ladder, upon which I mount- and thought it was a sail, which he had a
ed, and thence was taken into the ship in a mind to make, being not much out of his
course, in hopes of buying some biscuit,
very weak condition.
The sailors were all in amazement, and his own beginning to fall short. That upon
asked me a thousand questions, which I coming nearer, and finding his error, he
had no inclination toanswer. I was equal- sent out his long-boat to discover what it
ly confounded at the sight of so many was; that his men came back in a fright,
pigmies, for such I took them to be, after swearing they had seen a swimming house.
having so long accustomed mine eyes to That he laughed at their folly, and went
the monstrous objects I had left. But the himself in the boat, ordering his men to
captain, Mr. Thomas Wilcocks, an honest take a strong cable alongwith them. That
worthy Shropshire man, observing I was the weather being calmhn,he rowed round
me several times, observed my windows
There are several little incidents which show and wire lattices that defended them.
t the r to have hd a deep knowledge of human That he discovered two staples upon one
nature ; and I think this is one. Although the
,w
h was lo bods without an
principal advantages enumerated by Gulliverin the side, which was all of boards, without any
beginning of this chapter, of mingling again among passage for light. He then commanded
his countrymen, depended on their being of the his men to row up to that side, and fastensame size with himself, yet this is forgotten in his ing a cable to one of the staples, ordered
al
ed
the
to oceof
to be delivered : and he is afterwards ing
betrayed into the same absurdity, by his zeal is them to tow my chest, as they called it

ardour
preserve

his furnitue.--.

toward the ship.

When it was there he

A VOYAGE 10 BROBDINGNAG.
gave directions to iasten another cable to
the ring fixed in the cover, and to raise up
my chest with pulleys, which all the sailors
were not able to do above two or three feet.
He said, they saw my stick and handkerchief thrust out of the hole, and concluded
that some unhappy man must be shut up
in the cavity.' I asked, 'whether he or
the crew had seen any prodigious birds in
the air, about the time he first discovered
me.' To which he answered, 'that discoursing this matter with the sailors while
I was asleep, one of them said, he had
observed three eagles flying towards the
north, but remarked nothing of their being
larger than the usual size:' which I suppose must be imputed to the great height
they were at; and he could not ,guess the
reason of my question. I then asked the
captain, 'how far he reckoned we might
be from land?' He said, 'by the best
computation he could make, we were at
least a hundred leagues.' I assured him,
'that he must be mistaken by almost half,
for I had not left the country whence I
came above two hours before I dropped
into the sea.' Whereupon he began again
to think that my brain was disturbed, of
which he gave me a hint, and advised me
to.go to bed in a cabin he had provided. I
assured .him, 'I was well refreshed with
his good entertainment and company, and
as much in my senses as ever I was in my
life.' He then grew serious, and desired
to ask me freely, 'whether I were not
troubled in my mind by the consciousness
of some enormous crime, for which I was
punished, at the command of some prince,
by exposing me in that chest; as great
criminals, in other countries, have been
forced to sea in a leaky vessel, without
provisions : for although he should be
sorry to have taken so ill a man into his
ship, yet he would engage his word to set
me safe ashore, in the first port where we
arrived.' He added, ' that his suspicions
were much increased by some very absurd
speeches I had delivered at first to his
sailors, and afterwards to himself, in relation to my closet or chest, as well as by my
odd looks and behaviour while I was at
supper.'
1 begged his-patience to hear me tell my
story, which I faithfully did, from the last
time I left England, to the moment he
first discovered me. And as truth always
forces its way into rational minds, so this
honest worthy gentleman, who had some
tincture of learning, and very good sense,
was immediately convinced of my candour
and veracity. But further to confirm all
I had said, I entreated him to give order
that my cabinet should be brought, of
which I had the key in my pocket; for he
had already informed me how the seamen
disposed of my closet. I opened it in
his own presence, and showed him the
small collection of rarities I made in the
country from which I had been so strangely delivered. There was the comb I had
contrived out of the stumps of the king's
beard, and another of the same materials,
but fixed into a paring of her majesty's

49

thumb-nail, which served for the back.
There was a collection of needles and pins,
from a foot to half a yard long; four wasp
stings, like joiner's tacks; some combings
of the queen's hair; a gold ring, whichone
day she made me a present of in a most
obliging manner, taking it from her little
finger, and throwing it over my head like a
collar. I desired the captain would please
to accept this ring in return for his civili.
ties; which he absolutely refused.
I
showed him a corn that I had cut off. with
my own hand, from a maid of honour's
toe; it was about the bigness of a Kentish
pippin, and grown so hard, that when I
I returned to England, I got it hollowed
into a cup, and set in silver. Lastly, I
desired him to see the breeches I had then
on, which were made of a mouse's skin.
I could force nothing on him but a footman's tooth, which I observed him to examine with great curiosity, and found he
had a fancy for it. He received it with
abundance of thanks, more than such a
trifle could deserve. It was drawn by an
unskilful surgeon, in a mistake, from one
of Glumdalclitch's men, who was afflicted
with the tooth-ach, but it was as sound as
any in his head. I got it cleaned, and put
it into my cabinet. It was about a foot
long, and four inches in diameter.
The captain was very well satisfied with
this plain relation I had given him, and
said, ' he hoped, when we returned to
England, I would oblige the world by
putting it on paper, and making it public.'
My' answer was, ' that I thought we were
overstocked with books of travels : that
nothing could now pass which was not
extraordinary; wherein I doubted some
authors less consulted truth, than their
own vanity, or interest, or the diversion of
ignorant readers; that my story could
contain little beside common events, without those ornamental descriptions of strange
plants, trees, birds, and other animals; or
of the barbarous customs and idolatry of
savage people, with which most writers
abound. However, I thanked him for hit
good opinion, and promised to take the
matter into my thoughts.'
He said 'he wondered at one thing very
much, which was, to hear me speak so
loud;' asking me ' Whether the king or
queen of that country were thick of hearing ?' I told him, 'it was what I had been
used to for above two years past, and that
I admired as much at the voices of him
and his men, who seemed to me only to
whisper, and yet 1 could hear them well
enough. But, when I spoke in that country, it was like a man talking in the streets,
to another looking out from the top of a
steeple, unless when I was placed on a
I
table, or held in any person's hand.'
i told him, 'I had likewise observed another thing, that when I first got into the
ship, and the sailors stood all about me, I
thought they were the most little contemptible creatures I had ever beheld.'
For indeed, while I was in that prince's
country, I could never endure to look in a
glass after mine eyes had been accustomed

50

GULLIVER'S TRAVELS.

to such prodigious objects, because the
comuarison gave me so despicable a conceit of myself. The captain said, ' that
wlinle were at supper, he observed me
we
to look at every thing with a sort of wonder,
and that I often seemed hardly able to contain
my laughter, which he knew not well
how to take, but imputed it to some disorder in my brain.' I answered, 'it was
very true; and I wondered how I could
forbear, when I saw his dishes of the size
of a silver three-penbe, a leg of pork hardly
a mouthful, a cup not so big as a nutshell;' and so I went on, describing the
rest of his household-stuff and provisions,
after the same manner. For, although
the queen had ordered a little equipage of
all things necessary for me, while I was in
her service, yet my ideas were wholly
taken up with what I saw on every side of
me, and I winked at my own littleness, as
people do at their own faults. The captain
understood my raillery very well, and
merrily replied with the old English proverb, ' that he doubted mine eyes were
bigger than my belly, for he did not observe my stomach so good, although I had
fasted all day;' and, continuing in his
mirth, protested 'he would have gladly
given a hundred pounds, to have seen my
chest in the eagle's bill, and afterwards in
its fall from so great a height into the sea;
which would certainly have been a most
astonishing object, worthy to have the
description of it transmitted to future
ages : and the comparison of Phaeton
was so obvious, that he could not forbear
applying it, although I did not much
admire the conceit,
The captain having been at Tonquin,
was, in his return to England, driven
north-eastward to the latitude of 44
degrees, and longitude of 143. But meeting a trade-wind two days after I came on
board him, we sailed southward a long
time, and coasting New Holland, kept our
course west-south-west, and then south,
south.west, till we doubled the Cape of
Good Hope. Our voyage was very prosperous, but I shall not trouble the reader
with a journal of it. The captain called
in at one or two ports, and sent in his
long-boat for provisions and fresh water;

but I never went out of the ship, till we
came into the Downs, which was on the
third day of June, 1706, about nine months
after my escape. I offered to leave my
goods in security for payment of my
freight : but the captain protested he
would not receive one farthing. We took
a kind leave of each other, and I made
him promise he would come to see me at
my house in Redriff. I hired a horse and
guide for five shillings, which I borrowed
of the captain.
As I was on the road, observing the
littleness of the houses, the trees, the
cattle, and the people, I began to think
myself in Lilliput. I was afraid of trampling every traveller I met, and often
on
called aloud to have thew stand out of the
way, so that I had like to have gotten one
or two broken heads for my impertinence.
When I came to my own house, for
which I was forced to inquire, one of the
servants opening the door, I bent down to
under a gate,) for fear
go in, (like a goose
of striking my head. My wife ran out to
embrace me, but I stooped lower than her
knees, thinking she could otherwise never
Iy daughter
be able to reach my mouth.
kneeled to ask my blessing, but I could not
see her till she arose, having been so long
used to stand with my head and eyes erect
to above sixty feet; and then I went to
take her up with one hand by the waist. I
looked down upon the servants, and one or
two friends who were in the house, as if
they had been pigmies and I a giant. I
told my wife, ' she had been too thrifty,
for I found she had starved herself and her
daughter to nothing.' In short, I behaved
myself so unaccountably, that they were
all of the captain's opinion when he first
saw me, and concluded I had lost my wits.
This I mention as an instance of the great
power of habit and prejudice.
In a little time, I and my family and
friends came to a right understanding :
but my wife protested 'I should never go
to sea any more;' although my evil destiny
so ordered, that she had not power to
hinder me, as the reader may know
hereafter. In the mean time, I here conclude the second part of my unfortunate
voyages.

A VOYAGE
TO

LAPUTA, BALNIBARBI, LUGGNAGG, GLUBBDUBDRIB,
AND JAPAN.*

PART

CHAPTER I.
The Author sets out on his third voyage. Is
taken by pirates. The malice of a Dutchman. His arrival at an island. He is
received into Laputa.
I nAD not been at home above ten days,
when captain William Robinson, a Cornish
man, commander of the Hopewell, a stout
ship of three hundred tons, came to my
house. I had formerly been surgeon of
another ship, where he was master and a
fourth part owner, in a voyage to the
Levant. He had always treated me more
like a brother, than an inferior officer;
and hearing of my arrival, made me a
visit, as I apprehended only out of friendship, for nothing passed more than what
is usual after long absences. But repeating
his visits often, expressing his joy to find
me in good health, asking, ' whether I
were now settled for life,' adding, ' that he
intended a voyage to the East Indies in
two months,' at last he plainly invited me,
though with some apologies, to be surgeon
of the ship; ' that I should have another
surgeon under me, beside our two mates ;
that my salary should be double to the
usual pay; and that having experienced
my knowledge in sea-affairs to be at least
equal to his, he would enter into any engagement to follow my advice, as much as
if I had shared in the command.'
He said so many other obliging things,
and I knew him to be so honest a man,
e Dr. Swift seems to have borrowed several
hints, in his Voyage to Laputa, from a novel written by the learned Dr. Francis Godwin, bishop of
landa, called 'Man in the Moon, or a Discourse
of a Voyage thither, by Domingo Gonsales, 168,
e8vo. This philosophic romance, which has been
several times printed, shows that Bishop Godwin
had a creative genius. His' Nuncius Inanimatus,'
which contains instructions to convey secret intelLene, is very searce. He died in April 163.1

III.

that I could not reject this proposal; the
thirst I had of seeing the world, notwithstanding my past misfortunes, continuing
as violent as ever. The only difficulty that
remained, was to persuade my wife, whose
consent however I at last obtained, by the
prospect of advantage she proposed to her
children.
We set out the 5th day of August, 1706,
and arrived at Fort St. George the 11th of
April, 1707. We staid there three weeks
to refresh our crew, many of whom were
sick. From thence we went to Tonquin,
where the captain resolved to continue
some time, because many of the goods he
intended to buy, were not ready, nor could
he expect to be despatched in several
months. Therefore, in hopes to defray
some of the charges he must be at, he
bought a sloop, loaded it with several sorts
of goods, wherewith the Tonquinese usually trade to the neighbouring islands, and
putting fourteen men on board, whereof
three were of the country, he appointed
me master of the sloop, and gave me power
to traffic, while he transacted his affairs at
Tonquin.
We had not sailed above three days,
when a great storm arising, we were driven
five days to the north-north-east, and then
to the east: after which we had fair
weather, but still with a pretty strong gale
from the west. Upon the tenth day we
were chased by two pirates, who soon overtook us; for my sloop was sd deep laden,
that she
very slow, neither were we
in a condition to defend ourselves.
We were boarded about the same time
by both the pirates, who entered furiously
at the head of their men; but finding us
all prostrate upon our faces (for so I gave
order), they pinioned us with strong ropes,
and setting a guard upon us, went to search
the sloop.
I observed among them a Dutchman,
who seemed to be of some authority

sailed

GULLIVER'S TRAVELS.
though he was not commander of either
ship. He knew us by our countenances to
be Englishmen, and jabbering to us in his
own language, swore we should be tied
back to back and thrown into the sea. I
spoke Dutch tolerably well; I told him
who we were, and begged him, in consideration of our being Christians and Protestants, of neighbouring countries in strict
alliance, that he would move the captains
to take some pity on us. This inflamed
his rage; he repeated his threatenings,
and turning to his companions, spoke with
great vehemence in the Japanese language, as I suppose, oten using the word
Christianos.
The largest of the two pirate ships was
commanded by a Japanese captain, who
spoke a little Dutch, but very imperfectly.
He came up to me, and after several
questions, which I answered in great
humility, he said, ' we should not die.'
I made the captain a very low bow, and
then, turning to the Dutchman, said, 'I
was sorry to find more mercy in a Heathen,
than in a brother Christian.' But I had
soon reason to repent those foolish words :
for that malicious reprobate, having often
endeavoured in vain to persuade both the
captains that I might be thrown into the
sea (which they would not yield to, after
the promise made me that I should not
die), however prevailed so far, as to have
a punishment inflicted on me, worse, in
all human appearance, than death itself.
My men were sent by an equal division
into both the pirate ships, and my sloop
new manned. As to myself, it was determined that I should be set adrift in a small
canoe, with paddles and a sail, and four
days' provisions ; which last, the Japanese
captain was so kind to double out of his
own stores, and would permit no man to
search me. I got down into the canoe,
while the Dutchman, standing upon the
deck, loaded me with all the curses and
injurious terms his language could afford.
About an hour before we saw the pirates,
1 bad taken an observation, and found we
were in the latitude of 46 N. and longitude
of 183. When I was at some distance from
the pirates, I discovered, by my pocketglass, several islands to the south-east. I
set up my sail, the wind being fair, with a
design to reach the nearest of those islands,
which I made a shift to do, in about three
hours. It was all rocky: however I got
many birds' eggs; and striking fire, I
kindled some heath and dry sea-weed, by
which I roasted my eggs. I ate no other
supper, being resolved to spare my provi-.
sions as much as I could. I passed the
night under the shelter of a rock, strewing
some heath under me, and slept pretty
well.
The next day I sailed to another island,
and thence to a third and fourth, sometimes using my sail, and sometimes my
paddles. But, not to trouble the reader
with a particular account of my distresses,
let it suffice, that on the fifth day 1 arrived
at the last island in my sight, which lay
south-south-east to the former.

This island was at a greater distance
than I expected, and I did not reach it in
less than five hours. I encompassed it
almost round, before I could find a con
venient place to land in; which was a
small creek, about three times the wide.
ness of my canoe. I found the island to
be all rocky, only a little intermingled
with tufts of grass, and sweet-smelling
herbs. I took out my small provisions,
and after having refreshed myself, I secured the remainder in a cave, whereon
there were great numbers ; I gathered
plenty of eggs upon the rocks, and got a
quantity of dry sea-weed, and parched
grass, which I designed to kindle the next
day, and roast my eggs as well as I could,
for I had about me my flint, steel, match,
and burning-glass. I lay all night in the
cave where I had lodged my provisions.
My bed was the same dry grass and seaweed which I intended for fuel. I slept
very little, for the disquiets of my mind
prevailed over my weariness, and kept me
awake. I considered how impossible it
was to preserve my life in so desolate a
place, and how miserable my end must be :
yet found myself so listless and desponding,
that I had not the heart to rise; and before I could get spirits enough to creep out
of my cave, the day was far advanced. I
walked a while among the rocks : the sky
was perfectly clear, and the sun so hot,
that I was forced to turn my face from it:
when all on a sudden it became obscure,
as I thought, in a manner very different
from what happens by the interposition of
a cloud. I turned back, and perceived a
vast opaque body between me and the sun
moving forwards towards the island : it
seemed to be about two miles high, and
hid the sun six or seven minutes; but I
did not observe the air to be much colder,
or the sky more darkened, than if I had
stood under the shade of a mountain. As
it approached nearer over the place where
1 was, it appeared to be a firm substance,
the bottom flat, smooth, and shining very
bright, from the reflection of the sea below.
I stood upon a height about two hundred
yards from the shore, and saw this vast
body descending almost to a parallel with
me, at less than an English mile distance.
I took out my pocket perspective, and
could plainly discover numbers of people
moving up and down the sides of it, which
appeared to be sloping; but what those
people were doing I was not able to distinguish.
The natural love of life gave me some
inward motion of joy, and I was ready t,
entertain a hope that this adventure might,
some way or other, help to deliver me
from the desolate place and condition I
was in. But at the same time the reader
can hardly conceive my astonishment, to
behold an island in the air, inhabited by
men, who were able (as it should seem) to
raise or sink, or put it into progressive
motion, as they pleased. But not being at
that time in a disposition to philosophise
upon this phenomenon, I rather chose to
observe what course the island would take,

A VOYAGE

TO LAPUTA,

ce.

53

I in their shapes, habits, and countenances.
Their heads were all reclined, either to the
right, or the left; one of their eyes turned
inward, and the other directly up to the
zenith.* Their outward garments were
adorned with the figures of suns, moons,
and stars; interwoven with those of fiddles,
flutes, harps, trumpets, guitars, harpsichords, and many other instruments of
music, unknown to us in Europe. I observed, here and there, many in the habit
of servants, with a blown bladder, fastened
like a flail to the end of a stick, which
they carried in their hands. In each
bladder was a small quantity of dried peas,
or little pebbles, as I was afterwards informed. With these bladders, they now
and then flapped the mouths and ears of
those who stood near them, of which
practice I could not then conceive the
meaning. It seems the minds of those
people are so taken up with intense speculations, that they neither can speak, nor
attend to the discourses of others, without
being roused by some external taction upon
the organs of speech and hearing; for
which reason, those persons who are able
to afford it always keep a flapper (the
original is climenole) in their family, as one
of their domestics ; nor ever walk abroad,
or make visits, without him. And the
business of this officer is, when two, three,
or more persons are in company, gently to
strike with his bladder the mouth of him
who is to speak, and the right ear of him
or them to whom the speaker addresses
himself. This flapper is likewise employed
diligently to attend his master in his
walks, and upon occasion to give him a
soft flap on his eyes; because he is always
so wrapped up in cogitation, that he is in
manifest danger of falling down every
precipice, and bouncing his head against
every post; and in the streets, of justling
others, or being justled himself into the
kennel.
It was necessary to give the reader this
information, without which he would be
at the same loss with me to understand
the proceedings of these people, as they
conducted me up the stairs to the top ol
the island, and from thence to the royal
palace. While we were ascending, they
forgot several times what they were about,
and left me to myself, till their memories
were again roused by their flappers; for
they appeared altogether unmoved by the
sight of my foreign habit and counteCHAPTER II.
nance, and by the shouts of the vulgar,
The humours and dispositions of the La.- whose thoughts and minds were more disputians described. An account of their engaged.
learning. Of the King and his Court.
At last we entered the palace, and proThe Author's reception there. The in- ceeded into thechamber of presence, where
habitants subject to fear and disquietudes. I saw the king seated on his throne,
attended on each side by persons of prime
An account of the women,
quality. Before the throne, was a large
AT my alighting, I was surrounded with a table illed with globes and spheres, and
crowd of people, but those who stood mathematical instruments of all kinds.
nearest seemed to be of better quality. His majesty took not the least notice of us,
h
circumstances
neither indeed
* By
warcustmch in ft wonder ;et
er
e indnever ridicule this description the author intended to
those who waste life in speculative

because it seemed for a while to stand still.
Yet soon after, it advanced nearer, and I
could see the sides of it encompassed with
several gradations of galleries, and stairs,
at certain intervals, to descend from one
to the other. In the lowest gallery, 1 beheld some people fishing with long angling
rods, and others looking on. I waved my
pap (for my hat was long since worn out)
and my handkerchief toward the island;
and upon its nearer approach, I called and
shouted with the utmost strength of my
voice; and then looking circumspectly, I
beheld a crowd gather to that side which
was most in my view. I found by their
pointing toward me and to each other, that
they plainly discovered me, although they
made no return to my shouting. But I
could see four or five men running in great
haste, up the stairs, to the top of the island,
who then disappeared. I happened rightly
to conjecture, that these were sent for
orders to some person in authority, upon
this occasion.
The number of people increased, and, in
less than half an hour, the island was
moved and raised in such a manner, that
the lowest gallery appeared in a parrallel
sf less than a hundred yards' distance from
the height where I stood. I then put
myself in the most supplicating postures,
and spoke in the humblest accent, but
received no answer. Those who stood
nearest over against me, seemed to be
persons of distinction, as 1 supposed by
their habit. They conferred earnestly
with each other, looking often upon me.
At length one of them called out in*a clear,
polite, smooth dialect, not unlike in sound
to the Italian : and therefore I returned
an answer in that language, hoping at
least that the cadence might be more
agreeable to his ears. Although neither
of us understood the other, yet my meaning
Was easily known, for the people saw the
distress I was in.
They made signs for me to come down
from the rock, and go towards the shore,
which I accordingly did; and the flying
sland being raised to a convenient height,
he verge directly over me, a chain was let
down from the lowest gallery, with a seat
fastened to the bottom, to which I fixed
myself, and was drawn up by pulleys,

was I muc

in their debt, having never

sciences, the powers of whose minds are as absurd

till then seen a race of mortals so singular ly employed the eyes of the Laputians.-H.
as

54

GULLIVER'S TRAVELS.

although our entrance was not without
sufficient noise, by the concourse of all
persons belonging to the court. But he
was then deep in a problem; and we
attended at least an hour, before he could
solve it. There stood by him, on each side,
a young page with flaps in their hands,
and when they saw he was at leisure, one
of them gently struck his mouth, and the
other his right ear; at which he startled
like one awaked on the sudden, and looking towards me and the company 1 was in,
recollected the occasion of our coming,
whereof he had been informed before. He
spoke some words, whereupon immediately a young man with a flap came up to my
side, and flapped me gently on the right
ear; but I made signs, as well as I could,
that I had no occasion for such an instrument; which, as I afterwards found, gave
his majesty, and the whole court, a very
mean opinion of my understanding. The
king, as far as I could conjecture, asked
me several questions, and I addressed
myself to him in all the languages I had.
When it was found I could neither understand nor be understood, I was conducted
by his order to an apartment in his palace
(this prince being distinguished above all
his predecessors for his hospitality to
strangers), where two servants were appointed to attend me. My dinner was
brought, and four persons of quality,
whom I remembered to have seen very
near the king's person, did me the honour
to dine with me. We had two courses, of
three dishes each. In the first course,
there was a shoulder of mutton cut into
an equilateral triangle, a piece of beef into
a rhomboides, and a pudding into a cycloid.
The second course was two ducks trussed
up in the form of fiddles; sausages and pud.
dings resembling flutes and hautboys, and a
breast of veal in the shape of a harp. The
servants cut our bread into cones, cylinders,
parallelograms, and several other mathematical figures.
While we were at dinner, I made bold
to ask the names of several things in their
language, and those noble persons, by the
assistance of their flappers, delighted to
give me answers, hoping to raise my
admiration of their great abilities, if I
could be brought to converse with them.
I was soon able to call for bread and drink,
or whatever else I wanted.
After dinner my company withdrew, and
a person was sent to me by the king's
order, attended by a flapper. He brought
with him pen, ink, and paper, and three
or four books, giving me to understand by
signs, that he was sent to teach me the
language. We sat together four hours, in
which time I wrote down a great number
of words in columns, with the translations
over against them; I likewise made a shift
to learn several short sentences; for my
tutor would order one of my servants to
fetch something, to turn about, to make a
bow, to sit, or to stand, or walk, and the
like. Then I took down the sentence in
Writing. He showed me also, in one of his
books, the figures of the sun, moon, and

stars, the zodiac, the tropics, and polat
circles, together with the denominations of
many plains and solids. He gave me the
names and descrip, ns of all the musical
instruments, and the general terms of art
in playing on each of them. After he had
left me, I placed all my words, with their
interpretations, in alphabetical order. And
thus, in a few days, by the help of a very
faithful memory, I got some insight into
their language.
The word, which I interpret the flying
or floating island, is in the original Laputa,
whereof I could never learn the true
etymology. Lap, in the old obsolete language, signifies high; and untuh, a governor; from which they say, by corruption,
was derived Laputa, from Lapuntuh. But
I do not approve of this derivation, which
seems to be a little strained. I ventured
to offer to the learned among them a
conjecture of my own, that Laputa was
quasi lap outed;
lap, signifying properly,
the dancing of the sun-beams in the sea,
and outed, a wing; which, however, I
shall not obtrude, but submit to the
judicious reader.
Those to whom the king had entrusted
me, observing how ill I was clad, ordered a
tailor to come next morning, and take
measure for a suit of clothes. This operator did his office after a different manner
from those of his trade in Europe. He
first took my altitude by a quadrant, and
then, with rule and compasses, described
the dimensions and outlines of my whole
body, all which he entered upon paper;
and in six days brought my clothes very ill
made, and quite out of shape, by happening
to mistake a figure in the calculation.
But my comfort was, that I observed
such accidents very frequent, and little
regarded.
During my confinement for want of
clothes, and by an indisposition that held
me some days longer, I much enlarged my
dictionary; and when I went next to court,
was able to understand many things the
king spoke, and to return him some kind
of answers. His majesty had given orders,
that the island should move north-east and
by east, to the vertical point over Lagado,
the metropolis of the whole kingdom
below, upon the firm earth. It was about
ninety leagues distant, and our voyage
lasted four days and a half. I was not in
the least sensible of the progressive motion
made in the air by the island. On the
second morning, about eleven o'clock, the
king himself in person, attended by his
nobility, courtiers, and officers, having
prepared all their musical instruments,
played on them for three hours without
intermission, so that I was quite stunned
with the noise; neither could I possibly
guess the meaning, till my tutor informed
me. He said, 'that the people of their
island had their ears adapted to hear
the music of the spheres, which always
played at certain periods, and the court
was now prepared to bear their part, in
whatever instrument they most excelled."
In our journey towards Lagado, the

A VOYAGETO LAPUTA, &c.
capital city, his majesty ordered that the
island should stop over certain towns and
villages, from whence hemight receive the
petitions of his subjects. And to this
purpose, several packthreads were let
down, with small weights at the bottom.
On these packthreads the people strung
their petitions, which mounted up directly,
like the scraps of paper fastened by school
boys at the end of the string that holds
their kite. Sometimes we received wine
and victuals from below, which were drawn
up by pulleys.
The knowledge I had in mathematics,
gave me great assistance in acquiring their
phraseology, which depended much upon
that science, and music; and in the latter
I was not unskilled. Their ideas are
perpetually conversant in lines and figures.
If they would, for example, praise the
beauty of a woman, or any other animal,
they describe it by rhombs, circles, parallelograms, ellipses, and other geometrical
terms, or by words of art drawn from
music, needless here to repeat. I observed
in the king's kitchen all sorts of mathematical and musical instruments, after the
figures of which they cut up the joints
that were served to his majesty's table.
Their houses are very ill built, the walls
bevil, without one right angle in any
apartment : and this defect arises from the
contempt they bear to practical geometry,
which they despise as vulgar and mechanic ;
those instructions they give being too refined for the intellects of their workmen,
which occasions perpetual mistakes. And
although they are dexterous enough upon
a piece of paper, in the management of the
rule, the pencil, and the divider, yet in the
common actions and behaviour of life, I
have not seen a more clumsy, awkward,
'and unhandy people, nor so slow and perplexed in their conceptions upon all other
subjects, except those of mathematics and
music. They are very bad reasoners, and
vehemently given to opposition, unless
when they happen to be of the right
opinion, which is seldom their case.
Imagination, fancy, and invention, they
are wholly strangers to, nor have any
words in their language, by which those
ideas can be expressed; the whole compass
of their thoughts and mind being shut up
within the two forementioned sciences,
Most of them, and especially those who
deal in the astronomical part, have great
faith in judicial astrology, although they
are ashamed to own it publicly. But what
I chiefly admired, and thought altogether
unaccountable, was the strong disposition
I observed in them towards news and
politics, perpetually inquiring into public
affairs, giving their judgments in matters
of state, and passionately disputing every
inch of a party opinion. I have indeed
observed the same disposition among most
of the mathematicians I have known in
Europe, although 1 could never discover
the least analogy between the two sciences;
unless those people suppose, that because
the smallest circle has as many degrees as

55

management of the world require no more
abilities than the handling and turning of
a globe; but I rather take this quality to
spring from a very common infirmity of
human nature, inclining us to be most
curious and conceited in matters where we
have least concern, and for which we art
least adapted by study or nature.
These people are under continual dis.
quietudes, never enjoying a minute's peace
of mind; and their disturbances proceed
from causes which very little affect the rest
of mortals. Their apprehensions arise
from several changes they dread in the
celestial bodies: for instance, that the
earth, by the continual approaches of the
sun towards it, must, in course of time, be
absorbed, or swallowed up; that the face
of the sun, will, by degrees, be encrusted
with its own effluvia, and give no more
light to the world; that the earth very
narrowly escaped a brush from the tail of
the last comet, which would have infallibly reduced it to ashes; and that the next,
which they have calculated for one-andthirty years hence, will probably destroy
us. For if, in its perihelion, it should
approach within a certain degree of the
sun (as by their calculations they have reason to dread) it will receive a degree of
heat ten thousand times more intense than
that of red hot glowing iron; and in its
absence from the sun, carrying a blazing
tail ten hundred thousand and fourteen
miles long; through which, if the earth
should pass at the distance of one hundreA
thousand miles from the nucleus, or main
body of the comet, it must in its passage
be set on fire, and reduced to ashes: that
the sun, daily spending its rays without
any nutriment to supply them, will at last
be wholly consumed and annihilated: which
must be attended with the destruction oa
this earth, and of all the planets that
receive their light from it.
They are so perpetually alarmed with
the apprehensions of these, and the like
impending dangers, that they can neither
sleep quietly in their beds, nor have any
relish for the common pleasures an4
amusements of life. When they meet an
acquaintance in the morning, the first
question is about the sun's health, how he
looked at his setting and rising, and what
hopes they have to avoid the stroke of the
approaching comet. This conversation
they are apt to run into with the same
temper that boys discover in delighting to
hear terrible stories of spirits and hobgoblins, which they greedily listen to, and dare
not go to bed for fear.
The women of the island have abundance
of vivacity : they contemn their husbands,
and are exceedingly fond of strangers;
whereof there is always a considerable
number from the continent below, attending at court, either upon affairs of the
several towns and corporations, or their
own particular occasions, but are much
despised, because they want the same

*All

these were suppositions persons eminent
of
the largest, therefore the regulation and i in their time for mathematical knowledge.-H.

66

GULLIVER'S TRAVELS.

endowments.
Among these the ladies
choose their gallants: but the vexation is,
that they act with too much ease and
security; for the husband is always so rapt
in speculation, that the mistress and lover
may proceed to the greatest familiarities
before his face, if he be but provided with
paper and implements, and without his
flapper at his side.
The wives and daughters lament their
confinement to the island, although I think
it the most delicious spot of ground in, the
world; and although they live here in the
greatest plenty and magnificence, and are
allowed to do whatever they please, they
long to see the world, and take the diversions of the metropolis, which they are not
allowed to do without a particular license
from the king; and this is not easy to be
obtained, because the people of quality
have found, by frequent experience, how
hard it is to persuade their women to
return from below. I was told that a
great court lady, who had several children,
-- is married to the prime minister, the
richest subject in the kingdom, a very
graceful person, extremely fond of her,
and lives in the finest palace of the island,
-went down to Lagoda on the pretence
of health, there hid herself for several
months, till the king sent a warrant to
search for her; and she was found in an
obscure eating-house all in rags, having
pawned her clothes to maintain an old
deformed footman, who beat her every
day, and in whose company she was taken,
much against her will. And although her
husband received her with all possible
kindness, and without the least reproach,
she soon after contrived to steal down
again, with all her jewels, to the same
gallant, and has not been heard of since.
This may perhaps pass with the reader
rather for an European or English story,
than for one of a country so remote. But
he may please to consider, that the
caprices of womankind are not limited by
any climate or nation, and that they are
much more uniform, than can be easily
imagined.
In about a month's time, I had made a
tolerable proficiency in their language,
and was able to asnswer most of the king's
questions, when I had the honour to attend
him. His majesty discovered not the least
curiosity to inquire into the laws, government, history, religion, or manners of the
countries where I had been; but confined
his questions to the state of mathematics,
and received the account I gave him with
great contempt and indifference, though
often roused by his flapper on each side.

graciously pleased to grant, and ordered my
tutor to attend me. I chiefly wanted to
know, to what cause in art or in nature it
owed its several motions, whereof I will
now give a philosophical account to the
reader.
The flying or floating island is exactly
circular, its diameter 7837 yards, or about
four miles and a half, and consequently
contains ten thousand acres. It is three
hundred yards thick. The bottom, or
under surface, which appears to those who
view it below, is one even regular plate of
adamant, shooting up to the height of
about two hundred yards. Above it lie
the several minerals in their usual order,
and over all is a coat of rich mould, ten or
twelve feet deep. The declivity of the
upper surface, from the circumference to
the centre, is the natural cause why all the
dews and rains, which fall upon the island,
are conveyed in small rivulets toward the
middle, where they are emptied into four
large basins, each of about half a mile in
circuit, and two hundred yards distant
from the centre. From these basins the
water is continually exhaled by the sun in
the daytime, which effectually prevents
their overflowing. Besides, as it is in the
power of the monarch to raise the island
above the region of clouds and vapours, he
can prevent the falling of dews and rain
whenever he pleases. For the highest
clouds cannot rise above two miles, as
naturalists agree, at least they were never
known to do so in that country.
At the centre of the island there is a
chasm about fifty yards in diameter,
whence the astronomers descend into a
large dome, which is therefore called flandona gagnole, or the astronomer's cave,
situated at the depth of a hundred yards
beneath the upper surface of the adamant.
In this cave are twenty lamps continually
burning, which, from the reflection of the .
adamant, cast a strong light into every
part. The place is stored with great
variety of sextants, quadrants, telescopes,
astrolabes, and other astronomical instruments. But the greatest curiosity, upon
which the fate of the island depends, is a
loadstone of a prodigious size, in shape
resembling a weaver's shuttle. It is in
length six yards, and in the thickest part
at least three yards over. This magnet is
sustained by a very strong axle of adamant
passing through its middle, upon which it
plays, and is poised so exactly that the
weakest hand can turn it. It is hooped
round with a hollow cylinder of adamant,
four feet deep, as many thick, and twelve
yards in diameter, placed horizontally,
-and
supported by eight adamantine feet,
each six yards high. In the middle of the
CHAPTER III.
concave side, there is a groove twelve
inches deep, in which the extremities of
A phenomenon solved by modern philosophy the axle are lodged,, and turned round as
and astroanrny. The Laputians' great there is occasion.
improvements in the latter. The King's
The stone cannot be removed from its
method of suppressinginsurrection.
place by any force, because the hoop and
its feet are one continued piece with that
I DESIRED lease of this prince to see the body of adamant which constitutes the
curiosities of the island, which he was bottom of the island.

A VOYAGE TO LAPUTA, &c.
By means of this loadstone, the island is
made to rise and fall, and move from one
place to another. For, with respect to
that part of the earth over which the
monarch presides, the stone is endued at
one of its sides with an attractive power,
and at the other with a repulsive. Upon
placing the magnet erect, with its attracting end towards the earth, the island
descends; but when the repelling extremity points downwards, the island mounts
directly upwards. When the position of
the stone is oblique, the motion of the
island is so too: for in this magnet, the
forces always act in lines parallel to its
direction.
By this oblique motion, the island is
conveyed to different parts of the monarch's
dominions. To explain the manner of its
progress, let A B represent a line drawn
cross the dominions of Balnibarbi, let the
line c d represent the loadstone, of which
et d be the repelling end, and c the at.
tracting end, the island being over C: let
the stone be placed in position c d, with its
repelling end downwards ; then the island
will be driven upwards obliquely towards
D. When it is arrived at D, let the stone
be turned upon its axle, till its attracting
end points towards E, and then the island
will be carried obliquely towards F.;
where, if the stone be again turned upon
its axle till it stands in the position E F,
with its repelling point downwards, the
island will rise obliquely towards F, where,
by directing the attracting end towards G,
the island may be carried to G, and from
G to H by turning the stone so as to make
its repelling extremity to point directly
downward. And thus, by changing the
situation of the stone, as often as there is
occasion, the island is made to rise and
fall by turns in an oblique direction, and
by those alternate risings and failings
(the obliquity being not codnsiderable) is
conveyed from one part of the dominions
to the other,
But it must be observed, that this island
cannot move beyond the extent of the
dominions below, nor can it rise above the
height of four miles.
For which the
astronomers (who have written large systems concerning the stone) assign the
following reason: that the magnetic virtue
does not extend beyond the distance of
four miles, and that the mineral, which
acts upon the stone in the bowels of the
earth, and in the sea about six leagues
distant from the shore, is not diffused
through the whole globe, but terminated
with the limits of the king's dominions;
and it was easy, from the great advantage
of such a superior situation, for a prince
to bring under his obedience whatever
country lay within the attraction of that
magnet.
When the stone is put parallel to the plane
of the horizon, the island stands still; for
in that case the extremities of it, being at
equal distance from the earth, act with
equal force, the one in drawing downwards, the other in pushing upwards, and
consequently no motion can ensue,

57

This loadstone is under the care of certain astronomers, who, from time to time,
give it such positions as the monarch
directs. They spend the greatest part of
their lives in observing the celestial bodies,
which they do by the assistance of glasses,
far excelling ours in goodness. For, although their largest telescopes do not
exceed three feet, they magnify much
more than those of a hundred with us,
and show the stars with.greater clearness.
This advantage has enabled them to extend
their discoveries much further than our
astronomers in Europe; for they have
inade a catalogue of ten thousand fixed
stars, whereas the largest of ours do not
contain above one third part of that number. They have likewise discovered two
lesser stars, or satellites, which revolve
about Mars; whereof the innermost is
distant from the centre of the primary
planet exactly three of his diameters, and
the outermost, five ; the former revolves
in the space of ten hours, and the latter in
twenty-one and a half; so that the'squares
of their periodical times are very near in
the same proportion with the cubes of their
distance, from the centre of Mars; which
evidently shows them to be governed by
the same law of gravitation that influences
the other heavenly bodies.
They have observed ninety-three dif.
ferent comets, and settled their periods
with great exactness. If this be true (and
they affirm it with great confidence) it is
much to be wished, that their observations
were made public, whereby the theory of
comets, which at present is very lame and
defective, might be brought to the same
perfection with other parts of astronomy.
The king would be the most absolute
prince in the universe, if he could but
prevail on a ministry to join him; but
these having their estates below on the
continent, and considering that the office
of a favourite has a very uncertain tenure,
would never consent to the enslaving of
their country.
If any town should engage in rebelliop
or mutiny, fall into violent factions, or
refuse to pay the usual tribute, the king
has two methods of reducing them to
obedience. The first and the mildest
course is, by keeping the island hovering
over such a town, and the lands about it.
whereby he can deprive them of the benefit
of the sun and the rain, and consequently
afflict the inhabitants with dearth and
diseases : and if the crime deserve it, they
are at the same time pelted from above
with great stones, against which they have
no defence but by creeping into cellars or
caves, while the roofs of their houses are
beaten to pieces. But if they still continue obstinate, or offer to raise insurrec..
tions, he proceeds to the last remedy, by
letting the island drop directly upon their
heads, which makes a universal destruction
both of houses and men. However, this is
an extremity to which the prince is seldom
driven, neither indeed is he willing to put
it in execution; nor dare his ministers
advise him to an action, which, as it would

58

GULLIVER'S TRAVELS.

render them odious to the people, so it of my abode there; by which, at last, I
would be a great damage to their own I rendered myself extremely contemptible;
estates, which all lie below; for the island yet these were the only people from
is the king's demesne.
whom I could ever receive a reasonable
But there is still indeed a more weighty answer.
reason, why the kings of this country have
I had obtained, by hard study, a good
been always averse from executing so degree of knowledge in their language: I
terrible an action, unless upon the utmost was weary of being confined to an island,
necessity. For, if the tbwn intended to be where I received so little countenance,
destroyed should have in it any tall rocks, and resolved to leave it with the first opas it generally falls out in the larger cities, portunity.
a situation probably chosen at first with a
There was a great lord at court, nearly
view to prevent such a catastrophe; or if related to the king, and for that reason
it abound in high spires, or pillars of stone, alone, used with respect. He was univer.
a sudden fall might endanger the bottom sally reckoned the most ignorant and stuor under surface of the island, which, al- pid person among them. He had perthough it consist, as I have said, of one formed many eminent services for the
entire adamant, two hundred yards thick, crown, had great natural and acquired
might happen to crack by too great a shock, parts, adorned with integrity and honour;
or burst by approaching too near the fires but so ill an ear for music, that his detracfrom the houses below, as the backs, both ters reported, he had been often known to
of iron and stone, will often do in our beat time in the wrong place; neither
chimneys. Of all this the people are well could his tutors, without extreme difficulapprised, and understand how far to carry ty, teach him to demonstrate the most easy
their obstinacy, where their liberty or proposition in the mathematics. He was
property is concerned. And the king, pleased to show me many marks of favour,
when he is highest provoked, and most often did me the honour of a visit, desired
determined to press a city to rubbish, to be informed in the affairs of Europe, the
orders the island to descend with great laws and customs, the manners and learngentleness, out of a pretence of tenderness ing of the several countries where 1 had
to his people, but, indeed, for fear of travelled. He listened to me with great
breaking the adamantine bottom; in which attention, and made very wise observations
case, it is the opinion of all their philoso- on all I spoke. He had two flappers atphers, that the loadstone could no longer tending him for state, but never made use
hold it up, and the whole mass would fall of them, except at court and in visits of
to the ground.
ceremony, and would always command
By a fundamental law of this realm, them to withdraw, when we were alone
neither the king, nor either of his two together.
eldest sons, are permitted to leave the
I entreated this illustrious person, to in.
island; nor the queen, till she is past child- tercede in my behalf with his majesty, for
bearing.
leave to depart; which he accordingly did,
as he was pleased to tell me, with regret :
for indeed he had made me several offers
very advantageous, which however, I reCHAPTER IV.
fused, with expressions of the highest acknowledgment.
The Author leaves Laputa; is conveyed to
On the 16th of February I took leave of
Balnibarbi; arrives at the metropolis. his majesty and the court. The king made
A description of the metropolis, and the me a present to the value of about two
country adjoining. The Author hospitably hundred pounds English, and my protector
received by a great Lord. His conversa his kinsman as much more, together with
tion with that Lord.
a letter of recommendation to a friend of
his in Lagado, the metropolis: the island
ALToour I cannot say that I was ill being then hovering over a mountain about
treated in this island, yet I must confess I two miles from it, I was let down from the
thought myself too much neglected, not lowest gallery, in the same manner as I
without some degree of contempt; for had been taken up.
neither prince nor people appeared to be
The continent, as far as it is subject to
curious in any part of knowledge, except the monarch of the flying island, passes
mathematics and music, wherein I was far under the general name of Balnibarbi;
their inferior, and upon that account very and the metropolis, as I said before, is
little regarded,
called Lagado. I felt some little satisfacOn the other side, after having seen all tion in finding myself on firm ground. I
the curiosities of the island, I was very walked to the city without any concern,
desirous to leave it, being heartily weary of being clad like one of the natives, and sufthose people. They were indeed excellent ficiently instructed to converse with them.
in two sciences for which I have great I soon found out the person's house to
esteem, and wherein I am not unversed; whom I was recommended, presented my
out, at the same time, so abstracted and letter from his friend the grandee in the
involved in speculation, that I never met island, and was received with much Kinawith such disagreeable companions. I con. ness. This great lord, whose name was
versed only with women, tradesmen, flap- Munodi, ordered me an apartment in his
Ders, and court-pages, during two months own house, whore I continued during my

A VOYAGE TO LAPUTA, &c.
stay, and was entertained in a most hospitable manner.
The next morning after my arrival, he
took me in his chariot to see the town,
which is about half the bigness of London;
but the houses very strangely built, and
most of them out of repair. The people in
the streets walked fast, looked wild, their
eyes fixed, and were generally in rags.
We passed through one of the town gates,
and went about three miles into the country, where I saw many labourers working
with several sorts of tools in the ground,
but was not able to conjecture what they
were about : neither did I observe any expectation either of corn or grass, although
the soil appeared to be excellent. I could
not forbear admiring at these odd appearances, both in town and country; and
I made bold to desire my conductor, that
he would be pleased to explain to me,
what could be meant by so many busy
beads, hands, and faces, both in the streets
and the fields, because I did not discover
any good effects they produced; but, on
the contrary, I never knew a soil so unhappily cultivated, houses so ill contrived
and so ruinous, or a people whose countenances and habit expressed so much misery
and want.
This lord Munodi was a person of the
first rank, and had been some years governor of Lagado ; but, by a cabal of ministers, was discharged for insufficiency.
However, the king treated him with tenderness, as a well-meaning man, but of a
low contemptible understanding.
When I gave that free censure of the
country and its inhabitants, he made no
further answer than by telling me, 'that I
had not been long enough among them to
form a judgment; and that the different
nations of the world had different customs;' with other common topics to the
same purpose. But, when we returned to
his palace, he asked me 'how I liked the
building, what absurdities I observed, and
what quarrel I had with the dress or looks
of his domestics.' This he might safely
do; because every thing about him was
magnificent, regular, and polite. I answered, 'that his excellency's prudence,
quality, and fortune, had exempted him
from those defects, which folly and beggary
had produced in others.' He said, 'if I
would go with him to his country-house,
about twenty miles distant, where his
estate lay, there would be more leisure for
this kind of conversation.' I told his excellency 'that I was entirely at his disposal;' and accordingly we set out next
morning,
During our journey he made me observe
the several methods used by farmers in
managing their lands, which to me were
wholly unaccountable; for, except in some
very few places, I could not discover one
ear of corn or blade of grass. But, in three
hours' travelling, the scene was wholly altered; we came into a most beautiful
country; farmers' houses, at small distances, neatly built; the fields enclosed,
containing vineyards, corn-grounds, and

59

meadows. Neither do I remember to have
seen a more delightful prospect. His excellency observed my countenance to clear
up; he told me with a sigh,' that there
his estate began, and would continue the
same, till we should come to his house:
that his countrymen ridiculed and despised
him, for managing his affairs no better,
and for setting so ill an example to the
kingdom; which, however, was followed
by very few, such as were old, and wilful,
and weak like himself.'
We came at length to the house, which
was indeed a noble structure, built according to the best rules of ancient architec.
ture. The fountains, gardens, walks,
avenues, and groves, were all disposed
with exact judgment and taste. I gave
due praises to every thing I saw, whereof
his excellency took not the least notice till
after supper; when, there being no third
companion, he told me with a very melancholy air ' that he doubted he must throw
down his houses in town and country, to
rebuild them after the present mode; destroy all his plantations, and cast others
into such a form as modern usage required,
and give the same directions to all his
tenants, unless he would submit to incur
the censure of pride, singularity, affectation, ignorance, caprice, and perhaps increase his majesty's displeasure; that the
admiration I appeared to be under would
cease or diminish, when he had informed
me of some particulars which probably I
never heard of at court; the people there
being too much taken up in their own
speculations, to have regard to what passed
here below.'
The sum of his discourse was to this
effect: ' that about forty years ago, certain
persons went up to Laputa, either upon
business or diversion, and, after five
months' continuance, came back with a
very little smattering in mathematics, but
full of volatile spirits acquired in that airy
region: that these persons, upon their return, began to dislike the management of
every thing below, and fell into schemes of
putting all arts, sciences, languages, and
mechanics, upon a new foot. To this end,
they procured a royal patent for erecting
an academy of projectors in Lagado; and
the humour prevailed so strongly among
the people, that there is not a town of any
consequence in the kingdom without such
an academy. In these colleges the professors contrive new rules and methods of
agriculture and building, and new instruments, and tools for all trades and manufactures; whereby, as they undertake,
one man shall do the work of ten; a palace
may be built in a week, of materials so
durable as to last for ever without repairing. All the fruits of the earth shall come
to maturity at whatever season we think
fit to choose, and increase a hundred fold
more than they do at present; with innumerable other happy proposals. The
only inconvenience is, that none of these
projects are yet brought to perfection: and
in the mean time, the whole country lies
miserably waste, the houses in ruins, and

60

GULLIVER'S TRAVELS.

the people without food or clothes. By all
which, instead of being discouraged, they
are fifty times more viiolently bent upon
prosecuting their schem Ses,driven equally
on by hope and despair : that as for himself, being not of an ent erprising spirit, he
was content to go on in the old forms, to
live in the houses his anncestors had built,
and act as they did, in every part of life,
without innovation : th at some few other
persons of quality and g entry had done the
same, but were looked on with an eye of
contempt and ill-will, as enemies to art,
ignorant, and ill commion-wealth's men,
preferring their own eas seand sloth before
the general improvemen t of their country.'
His lordship added ' t hat he would not,
by any further particu ulars, prevent the
pleasure I should certain ly take in viewing
the grand academy, w hither he was resolved I should go.' H e only desired me
to observe a ruined building, upon the side
of a mountain about th ree miles distant,
of which he gave me th is account: 'that
he had a very convenien t mill within half
a mile of his house, tu rned by a current
from a large river, and sufficient for his
own family, as well as
great number of
his tenants; that about seven years ago,
a club of those projec tors came to him
with proposals to dest roy this mill, and
build another on the sid e of that mountain,
on the long ridge wh ereof a long canal
must be cut, for a repo sitory of water, to
be conveyed up by pi pes and engine to
supply the mill: becaus e the wind and air
upon a height agitate d the water, and
thereby made it fitter for motion; and because the water, descen ding down a decli.
vity, would turn the mill with half the
current of a river, whose course is more
'that being then
upon a level.' He said ,
not very well with the court, and pressed
by many of his friends, he complied with
the proposal; and after employing a hundred men for two years, the work miscarried, the projectors we nt off, laying the
blame entirely upon hi m, railing at him
ever since, and puttin g others upon the
same experiment, with equal assurance of
success, as well as equal disappointment.'
In a few days we ca me back to town;
and his excellency, co nsidering the bad
character he had in th heacademy, would
not go with me himself, but recommended
me to a friend of his, to bear me company
thither. My lord was p leased to represent
me as a great admirer of projects, and a
person of much curiosit y and easy belief;
which, indeed, was not without truth; for
I had myself been a s ort of projector in
my younger days.

CHAPTE R V.
The Author permitted to see the grand aca.
demy of Lagado. The academy largely
described. The arts wherein the professors
employ themselves.
Tais academy is not an entire single build-

ing, but a continuation of several houses
op both sides of a street, which growing
waste, was purchased and applied to thatuse.
I was received very kindly by the warden, and went for many days to the academy. Every room has in it one or more
projectors; and I believe I could not be in
fewer than five hundred rooms.
The first rpan I saw was of a meagre
aspect, with sooty hands and face, his hair
and beard long, ragged,and singed in severa
places. His clothes, shirt, and skin, were
all of the same colour. He has been eight
years upon a project for extracting sunbeams out of cucumbers, which were to be
put in phials hermetically sealed, and let
out to warm the airin raw inclement sum.
mers. He told me, he did not doubt, that,
in eight years more, he should be able to
supply the governor's gardens with sunshine, at a reasonable rate: but he complained that his stock was low, and entreated me 'to give him something as an
encouragement to ingenuity, especially sinee
this had been a very dear season for cucumbers.' I made him a small present,
for my lord had furnished me with money
on purpose, because he knew their practice
of begging from all who go to see them.
I went into another chamber, but was
ready to hasten back, being almost overcome with a horrible stink. My conductor
pressed me forward, conjuring me in a
whisper 'to give no offence, which would
be highly resented;' and therefore I durst
not so much as stop my nose. The projector of this cell was the most ancient student
of the academy; his face and beard were
of a pale yellow; his hands and clothes
daubed over with filth. When I was
presented to him, he gave me a close em.
brace; a compliment I could well have
exeused. His employment, from his first
coming into the academy, wasan operation
to reduce human excrement to its original
food, by separating the several parts, removing the tincture which it receives from
the gall, making the odour exhale, and
scumming off the saliva. He had a weekly
allowance, from the society, of a vessel
filled with human ordure, about the bigness of a Bristol barrel.
I saw another at work to calcine ice into
gunpowder; who likewise showed me a
treatise he had written concerning the
malleability of fire, which he intended to
publish.
There was a most ingenious architect,
who had contrived a new method for building houses, by beginning at the roof, and
working downward to the foundation;
which he justified to me, by the like prac.
tice of those two prudent insects, the bee
and the spider.
There was a man born blind, who had
several apprentices in his own condition :
their employment was to mix colours for
painters, which their master taught them
to distinguish, by feeling and smelling. It
was indeed my misfortune to find them at
that time not very perfect in their lessons,
and the professor himself happened to be
gsenerally mistaken. This artist is much

A VOYAGE TO LAPVTA, &c.
encouraged and esteemed by the whole
fraternity.
In another apartment I was highly
pleased with a projector who had found a
device of ploughing the ground with hogs,
to save the charges of ploughs, cattle, and
labour. The method is this: in an acre
of ground you bury, at six inches' distance
and eight deep, a quantity of acorns, dates,
chesnuts, and other mast or vegetables,
whereof these animals are fondest; then
you drive six hundred or more of them
into the field, where, in a few days, they
will root up the whole ground in search of
their feed, and make it fit for sowing, at
the same time manuring it with their
,dung: it is true, upon experiment, they
found the charge and trouble very great,
and they had little or no crop. However
it is not doubted, that this invention may
be capable of great improvement.
I went into another room, where the
walls and ceiling were all hung round with
cobwebs, except a narrow passage for the
artist to go in and out. At my entrance,
he called aloud to me, 'not to disturb his
webs.' He lamented the fetal mistake the
world had been so long in, of using silkworms, while we had such plenty of
domestic insects who infinitely excelled
the former, because they understood how
to weave, as well as spin.' And 'he proposed further, ' that by employing spiders,
the charge of dyeing silks should be
wholly saved; whereof I was fully convinced, when he showed me a vast number
of flies most beautifully coloured, wherewith he fed his spiders, assuring us ' that
the webs would take a tincture from them;
and as he had them of all hues, he hoped
to fit every body's fancy, as soon as he
could find proper food for the flies, of certain gums, oils, and other glutinous matter, to give a strength and consistence to
the threads.'
There was an astronomer, who had undertaken to place a sun-dial upon the great
weathercock on the town-house, by adjusting the annual and diurnal motions of the
earth and sun, so as to answer and coincide with all accidental turnings of the
wind.
I was complaining of a small fit of the
colic, upon which my conductor led me
into a room where a great physician resided, who was famous for curing that
disease, by contrary operations from the
same instrument. He had a large pair of
bellows, with a long slender muzzle of
ivory: this he conveyed eight inches up
the anus, and drawing in the wind, he affirmed he could make the guts as lank as
a dried bladder. But when the disease
was more stubborn and violent, he let in
the muzzle while the bellows were full of
wind, which he discharged into the body
of the patient; then withdrew the instruwent to replenish it, clapping his thumb
strongly against the orifice of the fundament; and this being repeated three or
four times, the adventitious wind would
rush out, bringing the noxious along with
it, (like water put into a pump), andthe pa.

61

tient recovered. I saw him try both ex
periments upon a dog, but could not dis.
cern any effect from the former. After
the latter the animal was ready to burst,
and made so violent a discharge as was
very offensive to me and my companion.
The dog died onthe spot, and we left the
doctor endeavouring to :recover him, by
the same operation.
1 visited many other apartments, but
shall not trouble my reader with all the
curiosities I observed, being studious of
brevity.
I had hitherto seen only one side of the
academy, the other being appropriated
to the advancers of speculative learning,
of whom I shall say something, when I
have mentioned one illustrious person
more, who is called among them ' the universal artist.' He told us 'he had been
thirty years employing his thoughts for
the improvement of human life.' He had
two lhrge rooms full of wonderful curiosities, and fifty men at work. Some were
condensing air into a dry tangible substance, by extracting the nitre, and lettipg
the aqueous or fluid particles percolate;
others softening marble, for pillows and
pincushions ; others petrifying the hoofs of
a living horse, to preserve them from
foundering. The artist himself was at
that time busy upon two great designs
the first, to sow land with chaff, wherein
he affirmed the.true seminal virtue to be
contained, as he demonstrated by several
experiments, which I was not skilful
enough to comprehend. The other was,
by a certain composition of gums, minerals,
and vegetables, outwardly applied, to prevent the growth of wool upon two young
lambs; and he hoped, in a reasonable time
to propagate the breed of naked sheep, all
over the kingdom.
We crossed a walk to the other part of
the academy, where, as I have already
said, the projectors in speculative learning
resided.
The first professor I saw, was in a very
large room, with forty pupils about him.
After salutation, observing me to look
earnestly upon a frame, which took up the
greatest part of both the length and breadth
of the room, he said' Perhaps I might
wonder to see him employed in a project
for improving speculative knowledge, by
practical and mechanical operations. But
the world would soon be sensible of its
usefulness; and he flattered himself, that
a more noble exalted thought never sprang
in any other man's head. Every one
knew how laborious the usual method is
of attaining to arts and sciences; whereas,
by his contrivance, the most ignorant person, at a reasonable charge, and with a
little bodily labour, might write books in
philosophy, poetry, politics, laws, mathematics, and theology, without the least
assistance from genius or study.' He then
led me to the frame, about the sides whereof all his pupils stood in ranks. It was
twenty feet square, placed in the middle of
the room. The superficies was composed
of several bits of wood, about the bigness
S

62

GULLIVER'S TRAVELS.

of a die, but some larger than others.
They were all linked together by slender
wires. These bits of wood were covered,
on every square, with paper pasted on
them; and on these papers were written
all the words of their language, in their
several moods, tenses, and declensions ;
but without any order. The professor
then desired me 'to observe; for he was
going to set his engine at work.' The pupils, at his command, took each of them
hold of an iron handle, whereof there were
forty fixed round the edges of the frame ;
giving them a sudden turn, the
whole disposition of the words was entirely
changed. He then commanded six-andthirty of the lads, to read the several lines
softly, as they appeared upon the frame ;
and where they found three or four words
together that might make part of a sentence, they dictated to the four remaining
boys, who were scribes. This work was
repeated three or four times; and atevery
turn, the engine was so contrived, that
the words shifted into new places, as the
square bits of wood moved upside down.
Six hours a day the young students were
employed in this labour; and the professor
showed me several volumes in large folio,
already collected, of broken sentences,
which he intended to piece together, and
out of those rich materials, to give the
world a complete body of all arts and
sciences; which, however, might be still
improved, and much expedited, if the
public would raise a fund for making and
employing five hundred such frames in
Lagado, and oblige the managers to contribute in common their several collections.
He assured me ' that this invention had
employed all his thoughts from his youth ;
that he had emptied the whole vocabulary
into his frame, and made the strictest computation of the general proportion there is
in books between the numbers of particles,
nouns, and verbs, and other parts of
speech.'
I made my humblest acknowledgment
to this illustrious person, for his great
communicativeness; and promised, 'if
ever I had the good fortune to return to
my native country, that I would do him
justice, as the sole inventor of this wonderful machine;' the form and contrivance bf
which I desired leave to delineate on paper,
as in the figure here annexed. I told him,
' although it were the custom of our learned
in Europe to steal inventions from each
other, who had thereby at least this advantage, that it became a controversy
which was the right owner; yet I would
take such caution, that he should have the
honour entire, without a rival.'
We next went to the school of languages,
where three professors sat in consultation
upon improving that of their own country.
The first project was, to shorten dis.
course, by cutting polysyllables into one,
and leaving out verbs and participles; because, in reality, all things imaginable are
but nouns.
The other project was, a scheme for entirely abolishing all words whatsoever;

And

and this was urged as a great advantage i
point of health, as well as brevity. For it
is plain, that every word we speak is, in
some degree, a diminution of our lungs by
corrosion; and consequently contributes t,,
the shortening of our lives. An expedient
was therefore offered, ' that since words
are only names for things, it would be more
convenient for all men to carry about them
such things as were necessary to express a
particular business they are to discourse
on.' And this invention would certainly
have taken place, to the great ease as well
as health of the subject, if the women, in
conjunction with the vulgar and illiterate,
had not theatened to raise a rebellion unless they might be allowed the liberty to
speak with their tongues, after the manner
of their forefathers; such constant irreconcileable enemies to science are the common
people. However, many of the most
learned and wise adhere to the new scheme
of expressing themselves by things; which
has only this inconvenience attending it,
that if a man's business be very great, and
of various kinds, he must be obliged, in
proportion, to carry a greater bundle of
things upon his back, unless he can afford
one or two strong servants to attend him.
I have often beheld two of those sages almost sinking under the weight of their
packs, like pedlars among us; who, when
they met in the street, would lay down
their loads, open their sacks, and hold conversation for an hour together; then put
up their implements, help each other to
resume their burdens, and take their
leave.
But for short conversations, a man may
carry implements in his pockets, and under
his arms, enough to supply him; and in
his house, he cannot be at a loss. Therefore the room where company meet who
practise this art, is full of all things, ready
at hand, requisite to furnish matter for
this kind of artificial converse.
Another great advantage proposed by
this invention was, that it would serve as a
universal language, to be understood in all
civilised nations, whose goods and utensils
are generally of the same kind, or nearly
resembling, so that their uses might easily
be comprehended. And thus ambassadors
would be qualified to treat with foreign
princes, or ministers of state, to whose
tongues they were utter strangers.
I was at the mathematical school, where
the master taught his pupils after a method scarce imaginable to us in Europe.
The proposition, and demonstration, were
fairly written on a thin wafer, with ink
composed of a cephalic tincture. This, the
student was to swallow upon a fasting
stomach, and for three days following eat
nothing but bread and water. As the wafer digested, the tincture mounted to his
brain, bearing the proposition along with
it. But the success has not hitherto been
answerable, partly by some error in the
quantum or composition, and partly by the
perverseness of lads, to whom this bolus is
so nauseous, that they generally steal aside,
and discharge it upwards, before it can

A VOYAGE TO LAPUTA, &c.

63

operate; neither have they been yet per- consulted upon the nature of the several
suaded to use so long an abstinence, as the maladies, and the methods of cure, they
prescription requires.
should on the fourth day return to the se.
nate house, attended by their apothecaries
stored with proper medicines; and before
the members sat, administer to each of
them lenitives, aperients, abstersives, corCHAPTER V.
rosives, restringents, palliatives, laxatives,
cephalalgics, icterics, apophlegmatics, ac.
A further account of the academy. The oustics, as their several cases required;
Author proposes someimprovements, wvhich and, according as these medicines should
are honourably received
operate, repeat, alter, or omit them, at
the next meeting.'
IN the school of political projectors, I was
This project could not be of any great
but ill entertained; the professors appear- expense to the public; and might in my
ing, in my judgment, wholly out of their poor opinion, be of much use for the dessenses; which is a scene that never fails to patch of business, in those countries where
make me melancholy. These unhappy senates have any share in the legislative
people were proposing schemes for persuad- power ; beget unanimity, shorten debates,
ing monarchs to choose favourites upon open a few mouths that are now closed,
the score of their wisdom, capacity, and and close many more that are now open;
virtue; of teaching ministers to consult the curb the petulancy of the young, and corpublic good ; of rewarding merit, great abi- rect the positiveness of the old; rouse the
lities, eminent services ; of instructing prin- stupid, and damp the pert.
ces to know their true interest, by placing
Again : because it is a general complaint,
it on the same foundation with that of their that the favourites of princes are troubled
people; of choosing for employments, per- with short and weak memories; the same
sons qualified to exercise them ; with many doctor proposed, ' that whoever attended
other wild impossible chimeras, that never a first minister, after having told his busientered before into the heart of man to ness, with the utmost brevity and the
conceive; and confirmed in me the old ob- plainest words, should, at his departure,
servation, 'that there is nothing so extra- give the said minister a tweak by the nose,
vagant and irrational, which some phi- or a kick on the belly, or tread on his corns,
losophers have not maintained for truth.'
or lug him thrice by both ears, or run a
But, however, I shall so far do justice pin into his breech; or pinch his arm black
to this part of the academy, as to acknow- and blue, to prevent forgetfulness; and at
ledge that all of them were not so vision- every levee day, repeat the same operation,
ary. There was a most ingenious doctor, till the business were done, or absolutely
who seemed to be perfectly versed in the refused.'
whole nature and system of government.
He likewise directed, ' that every senThis illustrious person had very usefully ator in the great council of a nation, after
employed his studies, in finding out effec- he had delivered his opinion and argued in
tual remedies for all diseases and corrup- the defence of it, should be obliged to give
tions, to which the several kinds of public his vote directly contrary; because if that
administration are subject, by the vices or were done, the result would infallibly terinfirmities of those who govern, as well as minate in the good of the public.
by the licentiousness of those who are to
When parties in a state are violent, he
obey. For instance; whereas all writers offered a wonderful contrivance to recon.
and reasoners have agreed, that there is a cile them. The method is this : you take
strict universal resemblance between the a hundred leaders of each party; you disnatural and the political body; can there pose them into couples of such whose
be any thing more evident, than that the heads are nearest of a size; then let two
health of both must be preserved, and the nice operators saw off the occiput of each
diseases cured, by the same prescriptions ? couple at the same time, in such a manner
it is allowed, that senates and great coun- that the brain may be equally divided. I to
cils are often troubled with redundant, the occiputs, thus cutoff, be interchanged
ebullient, and other peccant humours; applying each to the head of his opposite
with many diseases of the head, and more party-man. It seems indeed to be a work
of the heart; with strong convulsions, that requires some exactness, but the pro..
with grievous contractions of the nerves fessor assured us, 'that if it were dexterand sinews in both hands, but especially ously performed, the cure would be infalthe right; with spleen, flatus, vertigos, lible.' Forjhe argued thus: 'that the two
and deliriums; :with scrofulous tumours, half brains being left to debate the matfull of fetid purulent matter; with sour ter between themselves within the space of
frothy ructations; with canine appetites, one skull, would soon come to a good un.
and crudeness of digestion, beside many derstanding; and produce that moderation,
others needless to mention. This doctor as well as regmarity of thinking, so much
therefore proposed, ' that upon the meeting to be wished for in the heads of those, who
of the senate, certain, physicians should imagine they come into the world only to
attend at the three first days of their sit- watch and govern its motion: and as to
ting, and at the close of each day's debate the difference of brains, in quantity or
feel the pulses of every senator; after quality, among those who are directors in
which, having maturely considered and faction, the dbctor assured us, from his
s2

64

GULLIVER S TRAVILS.

own knowledge, that ' it was a perfect
trifle.'
I heard a very warm debate between
wo professors, about the most commodious
and effectual ways and means of raising
money, without grieving the subject. The
first affirmed, 'the justest method would
be, to lay a certain tax upon vices and
folly; and the sum fixed upon every man
to be rated, after the fairest manner, by
a jury of his neighbours.' The second
was of an opinion directly contrary; ' to
tax those qualities of body and mind, for
which men chiefly value themselves; the
rate to be more or less, according to the
degrees of excelling; the decision whereof
should be left entirely to their own breast.'
The highest tax was upon men who are
the greatest favourites of the other sex,
and the assessments, according to the
number and nature of the favours they
have received ; for which, they are allowed to be their own vouchers. Wit, valour,
and politeness, were likewise proposed to
be largely taxed, and collected in the same
manner, by every person's giving his own
word for the quantum of what he possessed. But as to honour, justice, wisdom, and learning, they should not be taxed at all; because they are qualifications
of so singular a kind, that no man will
either allow them in his neighbour or value
them in himself.
The women were proposed to be taxed
according to their beauty and skill in dressing, wherein they had the same privilege
with the men, to be determined by their
own judgment. But constancy, chastity,
good sense, and good nature, were not
rated, because they would not bear the
charge of collecting.
To keep senators in the interest of the
crown, it was proposed that the members
should raffle for employments; every man
first taking an oath, and giving security,
that he would vote for the court, whether
he won or not; after which, the losers
had, in their turn, the liberty of raffling
upon the next vacancy. Thus, hope and
expectation would be kept alive; none
would complain of broken promises, but
impute their disappointments wholly to fortune, whose shoulders are broader and
s:ronger than those of a ministry.
Another professor showed me a large paper of instructions for discovering plots
and conspiracies against the government,
Hlie advised great statesmen to examine
into the diet of all suspected persons;
their times of eating; upon which side
they lay in bed; with which hand they
wipe their posteriors ; take a strict view
of their excrements, and, from the colour,
the odour, the taste, the consistence, the
crudeness, or maturity of digestion, form
Sjudgment of their thoughts and designs;
because men are never so serious, thoughtful, and intent, as when they are at stool,
which he found by experience; for, in such
Nonjunctures, when he used, merely a%a
trial, to consider which was the best way
s¢f murdering the king, his ordure would
have a tincture of green . but quite differ-

ent, when he thought only of raising an
insurrection, or burning the metropolis.
The whole discourse was written with
great acuteness, containing many observa.
tions, both curious and useful for politi
cians; but, as I conceived, not altogethe
complete. This I ventured to tell the author, and offered, if he pleased, to supply
him with some additions. He received
my proposition with more compliance than
is usual among writers, especially of
the projecting species; professing ' he
would be glad to receive further information.'
I told him, 'that in the kingdom of Tribnia, by the natives called Langden, where
I had sojourned some time in my travels,
the bulk of the people consist in a manner
wholly of discoverers, witnesses, informers, accusers, prosecutors, evidences,
swearers, together with their several subservient and subaltern instruments, all under the colours, the conduct, and the pay
of ministers of state, and their deputies.
The plots, in that kingdom, are usually
the workmanship of those persons who
desire to raise their own characters of profound politicians; to restore new vigour to
a crazy administration; to stifle or divert
general discontents; to fill their coffers
with forfeitures; and raise or sink the
opinion of public credit, as either shall
best answer their private advantage. It is
first agreed and settled among them, what
suspected persons shall be accused of a
plot; then, effectual care is taken to secure all their letters and papers, and put
the owners in chains. These papers are
delivered to a set of artists, very dexterous in finding out the mysterious meanings
of words, syllables, and letters : for instance, they can discover a close stool, to
signify a privy council; a flock of geese,
a senate; a lame dog,* an invader; the
plague, a standing army; a buzzard, a
prime minister; the gout, a high priest;
a gibbet, a secretary of state; a chamber
pot, a committee of grandees; a sieve, a
court lady; a broonm, a revolution; a
mouse-trap, an employment; a bottomless pit, a treasury; a sink, a court; a
cap and bells, a favourite; a broken reed
a court of justice; an empty tun, a gen.
eral; a running sore, the administration.
When this method fails, they have two
others more effectual, which the learned
among them call acrostics and anagrams.
First, they can decipher all initial letters
into political meanings. Thus N, shall
signify a plot; B, a regiment of horse;
L, a fleet at sea; or, secondly, by transposing the letters of the alphabet in any
suspected paper, they can lay open the
deepest designs of a discontented party.
So, for example, if I should say, in a letter to a friend, 'Our brother Tom has just
got the piles,' a skilful decipherer would
discover, that the same letters that compose this sentence, may be analysed into
the following words,
Resist-a plot is
v See the proceedings against Dr. Atterbus
Bishop of Rochester, in the State Trial vol. vi.

-H.

A VOYAGE TO LAPUTA, &c.
brought home-The tour.'
And this is
the anagrammatic method.'
The professor made me great acknow.
ledgments for communicating these observations, and promised to make honourable
mention of me in his treatise.
I saw nothing in this country that could
invite me to a longer continuance, and
segan to think of returning home to England.

CHAPTER VII.
The Author leaves Lagado, arrives at Maldonada. No ship ready. He takes a
short voyage to Glubbdubdrib. His reception by the Governor.
THE continent, of which this kingdom is a
part, extends itself, as I have reason to believe, eastward, to that unknown tract of
America westward of California; and
north, to the Pacific Ocean, which is not
above a hundred and fifty miles from Lagado; where there is a good port, and
much commerce with the great island of
Luggnagg, situated to the northwest about
29 degrees north latitude, and 140 longitude. This island of Luggnagg stands
south-eastward of Japan, about a hundred
leagues distant. There is a strict alliance
between the Japanese emperor and the
king of Luggnagg ; which affords frequent
opportunities of sailing from one island to
the other. I determined therefore to di.
rect my course this way, in order to my
return to Europe. I hired two mules, with
a guide, to show me the way, and carry my
small baggage. I took leave of my noble
protector, who had shown me so much fayour and made me a generous present at
my departure.
My journey was without any accident or
adventure worth relating. When I arriv
ed at the port of Maldonada (for so it is
called) there was no ship in the harbour
bound for Luggnagg, nor likely to be in
some time. The town is about as large as
Portsmouth. I soon fell into some acquaintance, and was very hospitably received. A gentleman of distinction said
to me, 'that since the ships bound for
Luggnagg could not be ready in less than
a month, it might be no disagreeable
amusement for me to take a trip to the
little island of Glubbdubdrib, about five
leagues off to the south-west.' He offered
himself and a friend to accompany me, and
that I should be provided with a small convenient bark for the voyage,
Glubbdubdrib, as nearly as I can interpret the word, signifies the island of sorcerers or magicians. It is about one third as
large as the Isle of Wight, and extremely
fruitful: it is governed by the head of a
certain tribe, who are all magicians. This
tribe marries only among each other, and
the eldest in succession is prince or governor. He has a noble palace, and a park of
about three thousand acres, surrounded by
wall of hewn stone twenty feet high. In

6b

this park are several small enclosures for
cattle, corn, and gardening.
The governor and his family are served
and attended by domestics of a kind some.
what unusual. By his skill in necromancy,
he has a power of calling whom he pleasev
from the dead, and commanding their ser.
vice for twenty-four hours, but no longer ;
nor can he call the same persons up again
in less than three months, except upon
very extraordinary occasions.
When we arrived at the island, which
was about eleven in the morning, one of
the gentlemen who accompanied me went
to the governor, and desired admittance
for a stranger, who came on purpose to
have the honour of attending on his high.
ness. This was immediately granted, and
we all three entered the gate of the palace
between two rows of guards, armed and
dressed after a very antic manner, and
something in their countenances that made
my flesh'creep with a horror I cannot ex.
press. We passed through several apartments, between servants of the same sort,
ranked on each side as before, till we came
to the chamber of presence; where, after
three profound obeisances, and a few general questions, we were permitted to sit on
three stools, near the lowest step of his
highness's throne. He understood the language of Balnibarbi, although it was different from that of this island. He desired
me to give him some account of my travels; and, to let me see that I should be
treated without ceremony, he dismissed all
his attendants with a turn of his finger; at
which, to my great astonishment, they vanished in an instant, like visions in a dream
when we awake on a sudden. I could not
recover myself in some time, till the governor assured me, 'that I should receive no
hurt:' and observing my two companions
to be under no concern, who had been
often entertained in the same manner, I
began to take courage, and related to his
highness a short history of my several adventures; yet not without some hesitation,
and frequently looking behind me to the
place where I had seen those domestic
spectres. I had the honour to dine with
the governor, where a new set of ghosts
served up the meat, and waited at table. I
now observed myself to be less terrified
than I had been in the morning. I stayed
till sunset, but humbly desired his highness
to excuse me for not accepting his invitation of lodging in the palace. My two
friends and I lay at a private house in the
town adjoining, which is the capital of this
little island; and the next morning we re.
turned to pay our duty to the governor, as
he was pleased to command us.
After this manner we continued in the
island for ten days, most part of every day
with the governor, and at night in our
lodging. I soon grew so familiarized to the
sight of spirits, that after the third or
fourth time they gave me no emotion at
all: or, if I had any apprehensions left, my
curiosity prevailed over them. For his
highness the governor ordered me ' to call
up whatever persona I would choose to
.

1"3

66

GULLIVEW~S TRAVELS.

name, and in whatever numbers, among the glory of taking it away.' I had the
all the dead from the beginning of the honour to have much conversation with
world to the present time, and command Brutus ; and was told, 'that his ancestors
them to answer any questions I should Junius, Socrates, Epaminondas, Cato the
think fit to ask; with this condition, that younger,* Sir Thomas More, and himmy questions must be confined within the self, were perpetually together:' a sextum.
compass of the times they lived in. And virate, to which all the ages of the world
one thing I might depend upon, that they cannot add a seventh.
It would be tedious to trouble the reader
would certainly tell me the truth, for lying
was a talent of no use in the lower world.' with relating what vast numbers of illusI made my humble acknowledgments to trious persons were called up, to gratify
his highness for so great a favour. We that insatiable desire 1 had to see the
were in a chamber, from whence there was world in every period of antiquity placed
a fair prospect into the park. And because before me. 1 chiefly fed mine eyes with
my first inclination was to be entertained beholding the destroyers of tyrants and
with scenes of pomp and magnificence, I usurpers, and the restorers of liberty to op.
desired to see Alexander the Great at the pressed and injured nations. But it is imnead of his army, just after the battle of possible to express the satisfaction I re.
Arbela: which, upon a motion of the go- ceived in my own mind, after such a manvernor's finger, immediately appeared in a ner, as to make it a suitable entertainment
large field, under the window where we to the reader.
stood. Alexander was called up into the
room: it was with great difficulty that I
understood his Greek,* and had but little
of my own. He assured me uron his
CHAPTER VIII.
honour ' that he was not poisoned, but
died of a bad fever by excessive drink- A further Account of Glubbdubdrib. Aning.'tcient and modern history corrected.
Next, I saw Hannibal passing the Alps,
who told me, ' he had not a drop of vineHAVING a desire to see those ancients who
gar in his camp.'$
I saw Caesar and Pompey at the head of were most renowned for wit and learning,
their troops, just ready to engage. I saw I set apart one day on purpose. I promight apthe former, in his last great triumph. I posed that Homer and Aristotlecommentadesired that the senate of Rome might ap- pear at the head of all their
tors ; but these were so numerous, that
pear before me, in one large chamber, and
a modern representative in counterview, some hundreds were forced to attend in
in another. The first seemed to be an as. the court, and outward rooms of the pasembly of heroes and demi-gods ; theother, lace. I knew, and could distinguish those
a knot of pedlars, pickpockets, highway. two heroes, at first sight, not only from the
crowd, but from each other. Homer was
men, and bullies.
The governor, at my request, gave the the taller and comelier person of the two,
Caesar and Brutus to advance to- walked very erect for one of his age, and
sign for
wards us. I was struck with a profound his eyes were the most quick and piercing
stooped much,
veneration at the sight of Brutus, and I ever beheld. Aristotle His visage was
could easily discover the most consummate and made use of a staff.
virtue, the greatest intrepidity and firm- meagre, his hair lank and thin, and his
ness of mind, the truest love of his coun- voice hollow.- I soon discovered that both
try, and general benevolence of mankind, of them were perfect strangers to the rest
in every lineament of his countenance. I of the company, and had never seen or
observed, with much pleasure, that these heard of them before; and I had a whisper
two persons were in good intelligence with from a ghost who shall be nameless, 'that
each other ; and Caesar freely confessed to these commentators always kept in the
me, 'that the greatest actions of his own most distant quarters from their principals,
life were not equal, by many degrees, to in the lower world, through a consciousness
of shame and guilt, because they had so
* A hint from. Gulliver that we have lost the horribly misrepresented the meaning of
true Greek idiom.-Orrery.
In this passage there is a peculiar beauty, those authors to posterity. I introduced
though it is not discovered at a hasty view. The
appearance of Alexander with a victorious army
immediately after the battle of Arbela, produces
only a declaration that he died by drunkenness ;thus inadequate and ridiculous in the eye of reason is the ultimate purpose for which Alexander
with his army marched into a remote country,
subverted a mighty empire, and deluged a nation
with blood : he gained no more than an epithet to
his name, which, after a few repetitions, was no
longer regarded even by himself. Thus the purpose of his resurrection appears to be at least
equally important with that of his life, upon
which it is a satire not more bitter than lust.-H.
t Livy, the Roman historian, has related, that
Hannibal burnt a great pile of wood upon a roc
that stopped his passage, and when it was thus
heated poured vinegar upon it, by which it was
made so soft as to be easily cut through.-H.

SI am in some doubt whether Cato the censor
can fairly claim a rank among so choice a group
of ghosts.-Orrer-y. This note of his lordship is
an encomium on the judgment of our author, who
knew that Cao the censor and Cato the younger
were very different persons, and for good reason
preferred the latter.-H.
,This description of Aristotle is fine, and, in a
few words, represents the true nature of his works.
By not havingtheimmortal spiritof Homer, he was
unable to keep his body erect ; and his staff, which
feebly s pported him, like his commentators, made
this defect more conspicuous. He wanted not some
usefil qattlities, but these real ornaments, like his
hair, were thin and ungraceful.-Orrery. In this
the noble nommentator sc.-ns to be mistaken. for it
cannot be believed that : .tonle's rea ornans
however few, were up 7., d.-H.

A VOYAGE TO LAPUTA, &c.
Didymus and Eustathius to Homer, and
prevailed on him to treat them better than
perhaps they deserved, for he soon found
they wanted a genius to enter into the spirit
ofa poet. But Aristotle was out of all patience with the account I gave him of
Scotus and Ramus, as I presented them to
him; and he asked them, 'whether the
rest of the tribe were as great dunces as
themselves?'
I then desired the governor to call up
Descartes and Gassendi, with whom I prevailed to explain their systems to Aristotle.
This great philosopher freely acknowledged
his own mistakes in natural philosophy,
because he proceeded in many things upon
conjecture, as all men must do; and he
found, that Gassendi, who had made the
doctrine of Epicurus as palatable as he
could, and the vortices of Descartes, were
equally to be exploded. He predicted the
same fate to attraction, whereof the present learned are such zealous asserters. He
said, 'that new systems of nature were
but new fashions, which would vary in
every age; and even those, who pretend to
demonstrate them from mathematical principles, would flourish but a short period of
time, and be out of vogue when that was
determined.'
I spent five days in conversing with
many others of the ancient learned. I
saw most of the first Roman emperors. I
prevailed on the governor to call up Heliogabalus's cooks to dress us a dinner, but
they could not show us much of their skill,
for want of materials. A helot of Agesilaus made us a dish of Spartan broth, but
I was not able to get down a second spoonful.
The two gentlemen, who conducted me
to the island, were pressed by their private
affairs to return in three days, which I
employed in seeing some of the modern
dead, who had made the greatest figure,
for two or three hundred years past, in our
own and other countries of Europe; and
having been always a great admirer of old
illustrious families, I desired the governor
would call up a dozen or two of kings,
with their ancestors in order for eight or
nine generations. But my disappointment
was grievous and unexpected For. instead of a long train with royal diadems, I
saw in one family two fiddlers, three spruce
courtiers, and an Italian prelate. In an9ther, a barber, an abbot, and two cardinals. I have too great a veneration for
crowned heads, to dwell any longer on so
pice a subject. But as to counts, marquis,
ses, dukes, earls, and the like, I was not
so scrupulous. And I confzss, it was not
without some pleasure, that I found myself
able to trace the particular features, by
which certain families are distinguished,
up to their originals. I could plainly discover whence one family derives a long
chin; why a second has abounded with
knaves for two generations, and fools for
two more; why a third happened to be
crack-brained, and a fourth to be sharpers;
whence it came, what Polydore Virgil
says of a certain great house, Nec vir for-

67

tis, nee femina casta; how cruelty, false.
hood, and cowardice, grew tobe character.
istics, by which certain families are distin.
guished as much as by their coats of arms
who first brought the pox into a noble
house, which has lineally decerided in scrofulous tumours to their posterity. Neither
could I wonder at all this, when I saw
such an interruption of lineages, by pages
lackeys, valets, coachmen, gamesters, fiddilers, players, captains, and pickpockets.
I was chiefly disgusted with modern history. For having strictly examined all
the persons of greatest name in the courts
of princes, for a hundred years past, I
found how the world had been misled by
prostitute writers, to ascribe the greatest
exploits in war, to cowards; the wisest
counsel, to fools; sincerity, to flatterers;
Roman virtue, to betrayers of their country; piety, to atheists; chastity, to sodomites; truth, to informers: how many
innocent and excellent persons had been
condemned to death or banishment, by the
practising of great ministers upon the corruption of judges, and the malice of factions : how many villains had been exalt.
ed to the highest places of trust, power,
dignity, and profit: how great a share in
the motions and events of courts, councils,
and senates, might be challenged by bawds,
whores, pimps, parasites, and buffoons.
How low an opinion I had of human wisdom and integrity, when I was truly informed of the springs and motives of great
enterprises and revolutions in the world,
and of the contemptible accidents to which
they owed their success !
Here I discovered the roguery and ignorance of those who pretend to write anecdotes, or secret history; who send so
many kings to their graves with a cup of
poison; will repeat the discourse between
a prince and chief minister, where no witness was by; unlock the thoughts and cabinets of ambassadors and secretaries of
state; and have the perpetual misfortune
to be mistaken. Here I discovered the
true causes of many great events that
have surprised the world; how a whore
can govern the back-stairs, the back-stairs
a council, and the council a senate. A
general confessed, in my presence, 'that
he got a victory purely by the force of cowardice and ill conduct,' and an admiral,
' that, for want of proper intelligence, he
beat the enemy, to whom he intended to
betray the fleet.' Three kings protested
to me, 'that in their whole reigns they
never did once prefer any person of merit,
unless by mistake, or treachery of some
minister in whom they confided: neither
would they do it if they were to live
again:' and they showed, with great
strength of reason, ' that the royal throne
could not be supported without corruption,
because that positive, confident, restiff
temper, which virtue infused into a man,
was a perpetual clog to public business.'
I had the curiosity to inquire in a particular manner, by what methods great
numbers had procured to themselves high
titles of honour, and prodigious estates,

68

GULLIVER'S TRAVELS.

and I confined my inquiry to a very modern period: however, without grating
upon present times, because I would be
sure to give no offence even to foreigners;
for I hope the reader need not be toldy
that I do not in the least intend my own
country, in what I say upon this occasion,
A great number of persons concerned
were called up; and, upon a very slight
examination, discovered such a scene of infamy, that I cannot reflect upon it without some seriousness. Perjury, oppression,
subornation, fraud, pandarism, and the
like infirmities, were among the most excusable arts they had to mention; and, for
these I gave, as it was reasonable, great
allowance.
But when some confessed
they owed their greatness and wealth to
sodomy, or incest; others, to the prostituting of their own wives and daughters ;
others, to the betraying of their country
or their prince; some,, to- poisoning ;
more to the perverting of justice, in order
to destroy the innocent: I hope I may be
pardoned, if these discoveries inclined me
a little to abate of that profound veneration, which I am naturally apt to pay to
persons of high rank, who ought to be
treated with the utmost respect due to
their sublime dignity, by us their inferiors.
I had often read of some great services
done to princes and states, and desired to
see the persons by whom those services
were performed. Upon inquiry I was told,
' that their names were to be found on no
record,, except a few of them, whom his.
tory has represented as the vilest of rogues
and traitors. As to the rest, 1 had never
once heard of them. They all appeared
with dejected looks, and in the meanest
habit; most of them telling me, 'they died
in poverty and disgrace, and the rest on a
scaffold or a gibbet.'
Among others, there was one person,
whose case appeared a little singular. He
had a youth about eighteen years old standing by his side. He told me he had for
many years been commander of a ship;
and in the sea-fight at Actium had the
good fortune to break through the enemy's
great line of battle, sink three of their
capital ships, and take a fourth, which was
the sole cause of Antony's flight, and of
the victory that ensued; that the youth
standing by him, his only son, was killed
in the action.' He added, 'that upon the
confidence of some merit, the war being
at an end, he went to Rome, and solicited
at the court of Augustus to be preferred to
a greater ship, whose commander had
been killed; but, without any regard to his
pretensions, it was given to a boy who had
never seen the sea, the son of Libertina,
who waited on one of the emperor's mistresses. Returning back to his own vessel,
he was charged with neglect of duty, and
the ship given to a favourite page of Publicola, the vice-admiral; whereupon he
retired to a poor farm at a great distance
from Rome, and there ended his life.' I
was so curious to know the truth of this
story, that I desired Agrippa might be call-

ed, who was admiral in that fight He
appeared, and confirmed the whole account; but with much more advantage to
the captain, whose modesty had extenuated
or concealed a great part of his merit.
I was surprised to find corruption grown
so high and so quick in that empire, by
the force of luxury so lately introduce ;
which made me less wonder at many parallel cases in other countries, where vices
of all kinds have reigned so much longer,
and where the whole praise, as well as pil.
lage, has been engrossed by the chief com.
mander, who perhaps had the least title to
either.
As every person called up made exactly
the same appearance he had done in the
world, it gave me melancholy reflections to
observe, how much the race of human kind
was degenerated among us, within these
hundred years past; how the pox, under
all its consequences and denominations,
had altered every lineament of an English
countenance; shortened the size of bodies,
unbraced the nerves, relaxed the sinews
and muscles, introduced a sallow complexion, and rendered the flesh loose and rancid.
I descended so low, as to desire some
English yeomen of the old stamp-might be
summoned to appear; once so famous for
the simplicity of their manners, diet, and
dress; for justice in their dealings; for
their true spiritof liberty; for their valour,
and love of their country. Neither could
I be wholly unmoved, after comparing the
living with the dead, when I considered
how all these pure-native virtues were prostituted for a piece of money by their grandchildren; who, in selling their votes and
managing at elections, have acquired every
vice and corruption that can possibly be
learned.in a court.

CHAPTER IX.
The Author returns to Maldonada: Sails td
the kingdom of Luggnagg. The Author
confined. He is sent for to court. The
manner of his admittance. The King's
great lenity to his subjects.
THE day of our departure being come, 1
took leave of his highness, the governor of
Glubbdubdrib, and returned with my two
companions to Maldonada, where, after a
fortnight's waiting, a ship was ready to sai1
for Luggnagg. The two gentlemen, and
some others, were-so generous and kind
as to furnish me with provisions, and see
me on board. I was a month in this voyage. We had one violent storm, and were
under a necessity of steering westward to
get into the trade-wind, which holds for
above sixty leagues. On the 21st of April,
1708, we sailed into the river of Clumegnig,
which is a sea-port town, at the south east
point of Luggnagg. We cast anchor within a league of the town, and made a signal
for a pilot. Two of them came on board

A

VOYAGE TO LAPUTA, &

in less- than half an hour, by whom we
were guided between certain shoals and
rocks, which are very dangerous in the
passage, to a large basin, where a fleet may
ride in safety within a cable's length of the
town-wall.
Some of our sailors, whether out of
treachery or inadvertence, had informed
the pilots 'that I was a stranger, and a
great traveller;' whereof these gave notice
to acustomhouse officer, by whom I was
examined very strictly upon my landing,
This officer spoke to me in the language of
Balnibarbi, which, by the force of much
commerce, is generally understood in that
town, especially by seamen and those employed in the customs. I gave him a short
account of some particulars, and made my
story as plausible and consistent as I could;
but I thought it necessary to disguise my
country, and call myself a Hollander; because my intentions were for Japan, and I
knew the Dutch were the only Europeans
permitted to enter into that kingdom. I
therefore told the officer, ' that having
been shipwrecked on the coast of Balnibarbi, and cast on a rock, I was received up
into Laputa, or the flying island (of which
he had often heard), and was now endeav
ouring to get to Japan, whence I might
find a convenience of returning to my own
country.' The officer said, ' I must be
confined till he could receive orders from
court, for which he would write immediately, and hoped to receive an answer in
a fortnight.' I was carried toa convenient
lodging with a centry placed at the door;
however, I had the liberty of a large
garden, and was treated with humanity
enough, being maintained all the time at
the king's charge. I was invited by several
persons, chiefly out of curiosity, because it
was reported that I came from countries
very remote of which they had never
heard.
I hired a young man, who eaIne in the
same ship, to be an interpreter; he was a
native of Luggnagg, but had lived some
years at Maldonada, and was a perfect mas.ter of both languages. By his assistance,
I was able to hold a conversation with
jhose who came to visit me; but this conlisted only of their questions, and my answers,
The despatch came from court about the
time we expected. It contained a warrant
for conducting me and my retinue to Tral.dragdubh, or Trildrogdrib (for it is pronounced both ways as near as I can re.
member), by a party of ten horse. All my
retinue was that poor lad for an interpreter,
whom I persuaded into my service, and,
at my humble request, we had each of us a
mule to ride on. A messenger was despatched half a day's journey before us, to give
the king notice of my approach; and to
desire, ' that his majesty would please to
eppoint a day and hour, when it would be
his gracious pleasure that 1 might have the
honour to lick the dust before his footstool.'
This is the court style, and I found it to
be more than matter of form: for, upon
my admittance two days after my arrival,

69

I was commanded to crawl upon my belly,
and lick the floor as I advanced; but, on
account of my being a stranger, care was
taken to have it made so clean, that the
dust was not offensive. However, this w s
a peculiar grace, not allowed to any but
persons of the highest rank, when they desire an admittance. Nay, sometimes the
floor is strewed with dust on purpose, when
the person to be admitted happens to have
powerful enemies at court; and I have seen
a great lord with his mouth so crammed
that when he had crept to the proper dis.
tance from the throne, he was not able to
speak a word. Neither is there any rem
edy; because it is capital for those, who
receive an audience to spit or wipe their
mouths in his majesty's presence. There
is indeed another custom, which I cannot
altogether approve of: when the king has
a mind to put any of his nobles to death in
a gentle indulgent manner, he commands
the floor to bestrewed with a certain brown
powder of a deadly composition, which,
being licked up, infallibly kills him in twenty-four hours. But in justice to this
prince's great clemency, and the care he
has of his subjects' lives (wherein it were
much to be wished that the monarchs of
Europe would imitate him), it must be
mentioned for his honour, that strict orders are given to have the infected parts of
the floor well washed after every such execution, which, if his domestics neglect,
they are in danger of incurring his royal
displeasure. I myself heard him give directions, that one of his pages should be
whipped, whose turn it was to give notice
about washing the floor after an execution,
but maliciously had omitted it; by which
neglect a young lord of great hopes, coming to an audience, was unfortunately
poisoned, although the king at that time
had no design against his life. But this
good prince was so gracious as to forgive
the poor page his whipping, upon promise
that he would dog so no more, without
special orders.
To return from this digression, when I
had crept within four yards of the throne,
I raised myself gently upon my knees, and
then striking my forehead seven times
against the ground, I pronounced the following words, as they had been taught me
the night before, Inckplingglofljhkrobb squat
serumm blhiop mlashnalt win tnodbalkuj
hslhiophadgurdlubh asht. This is the com.
pliment, established by thelaws of theland,
for all persons admitted to' the king's presence. It may be rendered into English
thus : ' May your celestial majesty outlive
the surs, eleven moons and a half !' To
this the king returned some answer, which,
although I could not understand, yet I replied as I had been directed : Flute drin
yalerick dwuldom prastrad
mirpush, which
properly signifies,.' My tongue is in the
mouth of my friend;' and by this expression was meant, that I desired leave to
bring my interpreter; whereupon the
young man, already mentioned, was accor.
dingly introduced; by whose intervention
I answered as many questions as his ma.

70

GULLIVER'S TRAVELS.

jesty could put in above an hour. I spoke
in the Balnibarbian tongue, and my interpreter delivered my meaning in that of
Luggnagg.
The king was much delighted with my
company, and ordered his bliffmarklub, or
high-chamberlain, to appoint a lodging in
the court for me and my interpreter; with
a daily allowance for my table, and a large
purse of gold for my common expenses.
I staid three months in this country, out
of perfect obedience to his majesty; who
was pleased highly to favour me, and made
me very honourable offers. But I thought
it more consistent with prudence and justice to pass the remainder of my days with
my wife and family,

CHAPTER X.
The Luggnaggians commended. A particular description of the Struldbrugs,
with many conversationsbetween the Author and some eminent persons upon that
subject.
THE Luggnaggians are a polite and generous people; and although they are not
without some share of that pride which is
peculiar to all Eastern countries, yet they
show themselves courteous to strangers, especially such who are countenanced by the
court. I had many acquaintance, and
among persons of the best fashion; and
being always attended by my interpreter,
the conversation we had was not disagreeable.
One day, in much good company, I was
asked by a person of quality, ' whether I
had seen any of their struldbrugs, or immortals ?' I said, ' I had not;' and desired
he would explain to me what he meant
by such an appellation, applied to a mortal
creature. He told me ' that sometimes,
though very rarely, a child happened to be
born in a family, with a red circular spot
in the forehead, directly over the left eyebrow, which was an infallible mark that it
should never die.' The spot, as he described it, 'was about the compass of a silver three pence, but in the course of time
grew larger, and changed its colour; for
at twelve years old it became green, so
continued till five and twenty, then turned
to a deep blue: at five and forty it grew
coal black, and as large as an English shilling; but never admitted any further alteration.' He said, ' these births were so
rare, that he did not believe there could
be above eleven hundred struldbrugs, of
both sexes, in the whole kingdom; of
which he computed about fifty in the metropolis, and among the rest, a young girl
born about three years ago: that these
productions were not peculiar to any family, but a mere effect of chance; and the
children of the struldbrugs themselves were
equally mortal with the rest of the people.'
I freely own myself to have been struck

with inexpressible delight, upon hearing
this account : and the person who gave it
me happening to understand the Balnibar
bian language, which I spoke very well, I
could not forbear breaking out into expressions, perhaps a little too extravagant. I
cried out, as in a rapture, 'Happy nation,
where every child has at least a chance for
being immortal ! Happy people, who enjoy so many living examples of ancient
virtue, and have masters ready to instruct
them in the wisdom of all former ages
but happiest, beyond all comparison, are
those excellent struldbrugs,who, beingborn
exempt from that universal calamity of
human nature, have their minds free and
disengaged, without the weight and depres.
sion of spirits caused by the continual
apprehensions of death.' I discovered my
admiration, that I had not observed any of
these illustrious persons at court; the
black spot on the forehead being so remarkable a distinction, that I could not
have easily overlooked it : and it was impossible that his majesty, a most judicious
prince, should not provide himself with a
good number of such wise and able counsellors. Yet perhaps the virtue of those
reverend sages was too strict for the corrupt
and libertine manners of a court: and we
often find by experience, that young men
are too opinionated and volatile, to be
guided by the sober dictates of their seniors. However, since the king was
pleased to allow me access to his royal person, I was resolved, upon the very first
occasion, to deliver my opinion to him on
this matter freely and at large, by the help
of my interpreter; and whether he would
please to take my advice or not, yet in one
thing 1 was determined, that his majesty
having frequently offered me an establishment in this country, I would, with great
thankfulness, accept the favour, and pass
my life here in the conversation of those
superior beings the struldbrsgs, if they
would please to admit me.'
The gentleman to whom I addressed my
discourse, because (as I have already ob.
served) he spoke the language of Balnibarbi, said to me, with a sort of a smile
which usually arises from pity to the ignorant, ' that he was glad of any occasion to
keep me among them, and desired my
permission to explain to the company what
I had spoke.' He did so, and they talked
together for some time in their own language, whereof I understood not a syllable,
neither could I observe by their countenances, what impression my discourse had
made on them. After a short silence, the
same person told me, that his friends and
mine (so he thought fit to express himself)
were very much pleased with the judicious
remarks I had made on the great happiness
and advantages of immortal life, and they
were desirous to know, in a particular
manner, what scheme of living I should
have formed to myself, if it had fallen to
my lot to have been born a struldbrug.'
I answered, 'it was easy to be eloquent
on so copious and delightful a subject, especially to me, who had been often apt to

A VOYAGE TO LAPUTA, &c.

71

amuse myself with visions of what I should i become the seats of kings; famous rivers
do, if I were a king, a general, or a great lessening into shallow brooks; the ocean
lord: and upon this very case, I had fre- leaving one coast dry, and overwhelming
quently run over the whole system how I another; the discovery of many countries
should employ myself, and pass the time, yet unknown; barbarity overrunning the
if I were sure to live for ever.
politest nations, and the most barbarous
'That, if it had been my good fortune to become civilised. I should then see the
come into the world a struldbrug, as soon discovery of the longitude, the perpetual
as I could discover my own happiness, by motion, the universal medicine, and many
understanding the difference between life other great inventions, brought to the ut.
and death, I would first resolve, by all arts most perfection.
and methods whatsoever, to procure my'What wonderful discoveries should we
self riches: in the pursuit of which, by make in astronomy, by outliving and conthrift and management, I might reasonably firming our own predictions; by observing
expect, in about two hundred years, to be the progress and returns of comets, with
the wealthiest man in the kingdom. In the changes of motion in the sun, moon,
the second place, I would, frommy earliest and stars !'
youth, apply myself to the study of arts
I enlarged upon many other topics,
and sciences, by which I should arrive in which the natural desire of endless life
time to excel all others in learning. Lastly, and sublunary happiness, could easily furI would carefully record every action and nish me with. When I had ended, and
event of consequence, that happened in the the sum of my discourse had been interpublic, impartially draw the characters of preted, as before, to the rest of the comthe several successions of princes and great pany, there was a good deal of talk among
ministers of state, with my own observa- them in the language of the country, not
tions on every point. I would exactly set without some laughter at my expense.
down the several changes in customs, lan- At last, the same gentleman who had been
guage, fashions of dress, diet, and diver- my interpreter, said, 'he was desired by
sions; by all which acquirements, I should the rest to set me right in a few mistakes,
be a living treasure of knowledge and wis- which I had fallen into through the corndom, and certainly become the oracle of mon imbecility of human nature, and upon that allowance was less answerable for
the nation.
'I would never marry after threescore, them. That this breed of struldbrugs was
but live in a hospitable manner, yet stillon peculiar to their country, for there were
the saving side. I would entertain myself no such people either in Balnibarbi or Jain forming and directing theminds of hope- pan, where he had the honour to be amful young men, by convincing them, from bassador from his majesty, and found the
my own remembrance, experience, and natives in both those kingdoms very hard
observation, fortified by numerous ex- to believe that the fact was possible : and
amples, of the usefulness of virtue in pub- it appeared from my astonishment when
lic and private life. But my choice and he first mentioned the matter to me, that
constant companions should be a set of my I received it as a thing wholly new, and
own immortalbrotherhood ; among whom, scarcely to be credited. That in the two
I would elect a dozen from the most an- kingdoms above-mentioned, where during
cient, down to my own contemporaries. his residence he had conversed very much,
Where any of these wanted fortunes, I he observed long life to be the universal
would provide them with convenient lodges desire and wish of mankind. That who.
round my own estate, and have some of ever had one foot in the grave was sure to
them always at my table; only mingling a hold back the other as strongly as he
few of the most valuable among you mor- could. That the oldest had still hopes of
tals, whom length of time would harden living one day longer, and looked on death
me to lose with little or no reluctance, and as the greatest evil, from which nature altreat your posterity after the same man- ways prompted him to retreat. Only in
ner; just as a man diverts himself with this island of Luggnagg the appetite for
the annual succession of pinks and tulips living was not so eager, from the continual
in his garden, without regretting the loss example of the struldbrugs before their
of those which withered the preceding eyes.
' That the system of living contrived by
year.
These struldbrugsand I would mutually me, was unreasonable and unjust; because
communicate our observations and me- it supposed a perpetuity of youth, health,
morials, through the course of time; re- and vigour, which no man could be so
mark the several gradations by which cor- foolish to hope, however extravagant he
ruption steals into the world, and oppose it may be in his wishes.* That the question
in every step, by giving perpetual warning therefore was not, whether a man would
and instruction to mankind; which, added choose to be always in the prime of youth,
to the strong influence of our own example,
would probably prevent that continual degeneracy of human nature, so justly complained of in all ages.
Add to this, the pleasure of seeing the

various revolutions of states and empires ;
lower and upper world;
the changes in the ies
atie tch
in
andouper
wl

ancient cities in ruins, and obscure villages

*

To this it may ossibly be objected, that the
perpetuity of youth, health, and vigour, would be
less a prodigy than the perpetuity of life in a body
subject to gradual decay, and might therefore be
hoped without greater extravagance of folly; but
the sentiment heretexpressed is that of a being to
whom immortality though not perpetual youth was
familiar, and in whom the wish of perpetual youth

'72

GULLIVER'S TRAVELS.

attended with prosperity and health; but l appear to be those who turn to dotage, and
how he would pass a perpetual life, under entirely lose their memories; these meet
all the usual disadvantages which old age with more pity and assistance, because
brings along with it; for although few they want many bad qualities which
men will avow their desires of being im- abound inothers.
mortal, upon such hard conditions, yet in
'If a struldbrug
happen to marry one of
the two kingdoms before mentioned, of his own kind, the marriage is dissolved of
Balnibarbi and Japan, he observed that course, by the courtesy of the kingdom, as
every man desired to put off death some soon as the younger of the two comes to be
time longer, let it approach ever so Fate : fourscore; for the law thinks it a reasonand he rarely heard of any man who died able indulgence, that those who are con
willingly, except he were incited by the demned, without any fault of their own, to
extremity of grief or torture. And he ap. a perpetual continuance in the world,
pealed to me, whether in those countries should not have their misery doubled by
I had travelled, as well as my own, I had the road of a wife.
not observed the same general disposi'As soon as they have completed the
ticn.'*
term of eighty years, they are looked on as
After this preface, he gave me a parti- dead in law; their heirs immediately succular account of the struldbrugs
among ceed to their estates; only a small pittance
them. He said, 'they commonly acted is reserved for their support; and the poor
like mortals till about thirty years old; ones are maintained at the public charge.
after which, by degrees, they grew melan. After that period, they are held incapable
choly and dejected, increasing in both till of any employment of trust or profit; they
they came to fourscore. This he learned cannot purchase lands, or take leases;
from their own confession : for otherwise, neither are they allowed to be witnesses in
there not being above two or three of that any cause, either civil or criminal, not
species born in an age, they were too few even for the decision ofomeers and bounds.
to form a general observation by. When
'At ninety, they lose their teeth and
they came to fourscore years, which is hair; they have at that age no distinction
Sreckoned the extremity of living in this of taste, but eat and drink whatever they
country, they had not only all the follies can get, without reflsh or appetite. The
and infirmities of other old men, but many diseases they were subject to still continue,
more which arose from the dreadful pros- without increasing or diminishing. In
pect of never dying. They were not only talking, they forget the common appella
opinionative, peevish, covetous, morose, tion ofthings, and the names of persons,
vain, talkative; but incapable of friend. even of those who are their nearest friends
ship, and dead to all natural affection, and relations. For the same reason, they
which never descended below their grand never can amuse themselves with reading,
children. Envy, and impotent desires, are I because their memory will not serve to
their prevailing passions. But those ob.. carry them from the beginning of a sen.
jects against which their envy seems prin. tence to the end; and by this defect, they
cipally directed, are the vices of the young. are deprived of the only entertainment,
er sort and the, deaths of the old. By re- whereof they might otherwise be capable.
"The language of this country being alflecting on the former, they find themselves
cut off from all possibility of pleasure ; and ways upon the flux, the stkuldbrugs of one
whenever they see a funeral, they lament age do not understand those of another;
and repine that others have gone to a bar- neither are they able, after two hundred
bour of rest, to which they themselves ne. years, to hold any conversation (farther
ver can hope to arrive. They have no re. than by a few general words) with their
membrance of any thing but what they neighbours the mortals; and thus they lie
learned and observed in their youth and under the disadvantage of living like
middle-age, and even that is very imper. foreigners in their own country.'
feet; and for the truth or particulars of
This was the account given me of the
any fact, it is safer to depend on common struldbrugs, near as 1 can remember.
as
tradition, than upon their best recolle-e. I afterwards saw five or six of different
tions. The least miserable among them, ages, the youngest not above two hundred
years old, who were brought to me at seve.
only would have been extravagant, because that ral times by some of my friends; but alonly appeared from facts tobe impossible.-H.
If besaid, that although the oillydesiringthough they were told, all theIworld,' great
it
of
nd had seen 'that was a they
life tobe prolonged
underthe disadvantages of ol traveler,and had seen allthe world,'they
age, is here finely exposed;yet the desire ofterres
had not the least curiosity to ask me a
trial
immortality, upon terms on which alone in question; only desired ' I would give them
the nature of things it is possible, an exemption slmskudask, or a token of remembrance;
from disease, accident, and decay, is tacitly allowed. It may be answered, that as we grow old which is a modest way of begging, to avoid
by imperceptible degrees, so forthe, most part we the law, that strictly forbids it, because
grow oldwithout repining; and every man is ready they are provided for by the public al
to profess himself willing todie, when he shall be though indeed with a very scanty allow
overtaken the decrepitude ofagein some future
by
period: yet when every other eye sees that this pe- ance.
riod arrived, he is still tenacious of life, andmuris
They are despised and hated by all sorts
nmurs the condition upon which he received his of people. When one of them is born, it
at
existence. To reconcile old age therefore to the is reckoned ominous, and their birth is rethoughts of a dissolution, appears tobe all that
was necessar in a moral writer for practical corded very particularly: so that you may
ausvoss.-know their age by consulting the register

i

A VOYAGE TO L APUTA, &c.

73

which, however, has not been kept above the same particulars, without deserving
a thousand years past, or at least has been the censure of having borrowed or trandestroyed by time or public disturbances. scribed from those who wrote before
But the usual way of computing how old them.
There is indeed a perpetual commerce
they are, is by asking them what kings or
great persons they can remember, and then between this kingdom and the great empire
consulting history; for infallibly the last of Japan: and it is very probable, that the
prince in their mind did not begin his Japanese authors may have given some acbut
count of the struldbrugs; my stay in
reign after they were fourscore years old.
They were the most mortifying sight I Japan was so short, and I was so entirely a
ever beheld; and the women more horrible stranger to the language, that I was not
than the men. Besides the usual deform- qualified to make any inquiries. But I
ities in extreme old age, they acquired an hope the Dutch, upon this notice, will be
additional ghastliness, in proportion to curious and able enough to supply my de.
their number of years, which is not to be fects.
His majesty having often pressed me to
described; and among half a dozen, I soon
distinguished which was the eldest, aL accept some employment in his court, and
though there was not above a century or finding me absolutely determined to return
to my native country, was pleased to give
two between them.
The reader will easily believe, that from me his license to depart; and honoured me
mykeen appetite with a letter of recommendation, under
what I had heard and seen,
for perpetuity of life was much abated. his own hand, to the emperor of Japan.
I grew heartily ashamed of the pleasing He likewise presented me with four hunvisions I had formed; and thought no tred and forty.four large pieces of gold
tyrant could invent a death, in which I (this nation delighting in even numbers),
would not run with pleasure, from such a and a red diamond, which I sold in Eng.
life. The king heard of all that had pass- land for eleven hundred pounds.
On the 6th of May, 1709, I took a solemn
ed between me and my friends upon this
occasion, and rallied me very pleasantly; leave of his majesty, and all my friends.
wishing 1 could send a couple of struld- This prince was so gracious as to order a
brugs to my own country, to arm our guard to conduct me to Glanguenstald,
people against the fear of death ; but which is a royal port to the south-west part
this, it seems, is forbidden by the funda- of the island. In six days I found a vessel
mental laws of the kingdom, or else I ready to carry me to Japan, and spent fifshould have been well content with the teen days in the voyage. We landed at a
trouble and expense of transporting them. small port-town called Xamoschi, situated
I could not but agree, that the laws of this on the south-east part of Japan; the town
kingdom relative to the struldbrugs were lies on the western point, where there is a
founded upon the strongest reasons, and narrow strait leading northward into a
such as any other country would be under long arm of the sea, upon the north-west
the necessity of enacting, in the like cir- part of which, Yedo the metropolis stands.
cumstances. Otherwise, as avarice is the At landing I showed the custom-house
necessary consequent of old age, those im- officers my letter from the king of Luggmortals would in time become proprietors nagg to his imperial majesty. They knew
of the whole nation, and engross the civil the seal perfectly well; it was as broad as
power, which, for want of abilities to thepalm of my hand. The impression was,
manage, must end in the ruin of the pub- 'A king lifting up a lame beggar from the
earth.' The magistrates of the town, hearlic.
ing of my letter, received me as a public
minister; they provided me with carriages
and servants, and bore my charges to Yedo,
where I was admitted to an audience, and
CHAPTER XI.
delivered my letter, which was opened
Luggnagg, and sails to with great ceremony, and explained to the
The Author leaves
Japan. From thence hereturnsina Dutch emperor by an interpreter, who then gave
ship to Amsterdam, andfrom Amsterdam me notice, by his majesty's order, ' that I
should signify my request, and, whatever
to England.
it were, it should be granted, for the sake
this
I novoHTrr account of the struldbrugs of his royal brother of Luggnagg.' This
might be some entertainment to the reader, interpreter was a person employed to transit
because seems to be a little out of the act affairs with the Hollanders : he soon
common way; at least I do not remember conjectured, by my countenance, that
to have met the like in any book of travels was a European, and therefore repeated
that has come to my hands: and if I am his majesty's commands in Low Dutch,
tieceived, my excuse must be, that it is ne. which he spoke perfectly well. I answered,
for
%essary travellers who describe the same as I had before determined, 'that I was a
dountry, very often to agree in dwelling on Dutch merchant, shipwrecked in a very
remote country, whence I had travelled by
* Perhaps it may not be wholly useless to remark, that the sight of a atruldrg would no
otherwise arm those agaist the fear o death, who
havea hope beyond i, than a man is armesd
no
igainst the fear of breaking his limbs, who. isnpa
outofa window when his house is on fire.-- H.

sea and land to Luggnagg, and then took
shipping for Japan; where I knew my
countrymen often traded, and with some
of these I h
eo
et
or
of
oped to get an opportunity o
returning into Europe: I therefore most

74P

GULLIVER'S TRAVELS.

humbly entreated his royal favour, to give
order that I should be conducted in safety
to Nangasac.' To this 1 added another
petition, 'that for the sake of my patron
the king of Luggnagg, his majesty would
condescend to excuse my performing the
ceremony imposed on my countrymen, of
trampling upon the crucifix: because I
had been thrown into his kingdom by my
misfortunes, without any intention of trading.' When this latter petition was interpreted to the emperor, he seemed a little
surprised; and said, 'he believed I was
the first of my countrymen who ever made
any scruple in this point; and that he
began to doubt, whether I was a real Hollander, or not; but rather suspected I
must be a christian. However, for the
reasons I had offered, but chiefly to gratify
the king of Luggnagg by an uncommon
mark of his favour, he would comply
with the singularity of my humour; but
the affair must be managed with dexerity,
and his officers should be commanded to
let me pass, as it were by forgetfulness ;
for he assured me, that if the secret
should be discovered by my countrymen
the Dutch, they would cut my throat in
I returned my thanks, by
the voyage.'
the interpreter, for so unusual a favour ;
and some troops being at that time on
their march to Nangasac, the commanding
officer had orders to convey me safe thither, with particular instructions about the
business of the crucifix.
On the 9th day of June, 1709, I arrived
at Nangasac, after a very long and troublesome journey. I soon fell into the company of some Dutch sailors belonging to
the Amboyna of Amsterdam, a stout ship
of 450 tons. I had lived long in Holland,
pursuing my studies at Leyden, and I
spoke Dutch well. The seamen soon knew
whence I came last : they were curious
to inquire into my voyages and course of
life. 1 made up a story as short and pro-

bable as I could, but concealed the greatest
part. I knew many persons in Holland;
I was able to invent names for my parents,
whom I pretended to be obscure people in
the province of Guelderland. I would
have given the captain (one Theodorus
Vangrult) what hlie
pleased to ask for my
voyage to Holland; but understanding I
was a surgeon, he was contented to take
half the usual rate, on condition that I
would serve him in the way of my calling.
Before we took shipping, I was often
asked by some of the crew, ' whether I
had performed the ceremony above mentioned ?' I evaded the question by general
answers; ' that I had satisfied the emperor and court in all particulars.' However, a malicious rogue of a skipper went
to an officer, and pointing to me, told
him, ' I had not yet trampled on the crucifix;' but the other, who had received instructions to let me pass, gave the rascal
twenty strokes on the shoulders with a
bamboo; after which I was no more
troubled with suoh questions,
Nothing happened worth mentioning in
this voyage. We sailed with a fair wind
to the Cape of Good Hope, 'vhere we
staid only to take in fresh water. On the
10th of April, 1710, we arrived safe at
Amsterdam, having lost only three men
by sickness in the voyage, and a fourth,
who fell from the foremast into the sea,
not far from the coast of Guinea.
From Amsterdam I soon after set sail for
England, in a small vessel belonging to
that city.
On the 16th of April we put in at the
Downs. I landed next morning, and saw
once more my native country, after an
absence of five years and six months complete. I went straight to Redriff, where I
arrived the same day at two in the afternoon, and found my wife and family in
good health.

A VOYAGE
TO

THE COUNTRY OF THE HOUYHNHNMS.

PART IV.

CHAPTER I.
The Author sets out as captain of a ship.
His men conspire against him, confine
him a long time to his cabin, and set him
on shore in an unknown land. He travels
up into the country. The Yahoos, a
strange sort of animal, described. The
Author meets two Houyhnhnms.
at
I CONTINUED home with my wife and
children about five months, in a very happy condition, if I could have learned the
lesson of knowing when I was well I left
my poor wife big with child, and accepted
an advantageous offer made me to be captain of the Adventure, a stout merchant.
man of 350 tons : for I understood navigation well, and being grown weary of a
surgeon's employment at sea, which, however, I could exercise upon occasion, 1
took a skilful young man of that calling,
one Robert Purefoy, into my ship. We
set sail from Portsmouth, upon the 7th day
of September, 1710; on the 14th we met
with captain Pocock, of Bristol, at Tene.
riffe, who was going to the bay of Cam.
pechy to cut logwood. On the 16th, he
was parted from us by a storm; I heard
since my return, that his ship foundered,
and none escaped but one cabin boy. He
was an honest man, and a good sailor, but
a little too positive in his own opinions,
which was the cause of his destruction as
it has been with several others; for if he
had followed my advice, he might have
been safe at home with his family at this
time, as well as myself.
I lad several men died in my ship of
calentures, so that I was forced to get recruits out of Barbadoes and the Leeward
Islands, where I touched, by the direction
of the merchants who employed me; which
I had soon too much cause to repent; for
1 found afterwards, that most of them had

been buccaneers.* I had fifty hands on
board; and my orders were, that I should
trade with the Indians in the South-Sea,
and make what discoveries I could. These
rogues, whom I had picked up, debauched
my other men, and they all formed a conspiracy to seize the ship, and secure me;
which they did one morning, rushing into
my cabin, and binding me hand and foot,
threatening to throw me overboard, if I
offered to stir. I told them, ' I was their
prisoner, and would submit.' This they
made me swear to do, and then they unbound me, only fastening one of my legs
with a chain, near my bed, and placed a
sentry at my door with his piece charged,
who was commanded to shoot me dead if
I attempted my liberty. They sent me
down victuals and drink, and took the
government of the ship to themselves.
Their design was to turn pirates and plunder the Spaniards, which they could not
do till they got more men. But first they
resolved to sell the goods in the ship, and
then go to Madagascar for recruits, several
among them having died since my confinement. They sailed many weeks, and
traded with the Indians; but I knew not
what course they took, being kept a close
prisoner in my cabin, and expecting nothing less than to be murdered, as they often threatened me.
Upon the 9th day of May, 1711, one
James Welch came down to my cabin, and
said ' he had orders from the captain to set
me ashore.' I expostulated with him, but
in vain; neither would he so much as tell
me who their new captain was. They
forced me into the long.boat, letting me
put on my best suit of clothes, which were
as good as new, and take a small bundle of
linen, but no arms, except my hanger;
and they were so civil as not to search my
* Certain pirates, that infestedthe West Indies
were so called-H.

76

GULLIVER'S TRAVELS.

pockets, into which I conveyed what money I had, with some other little necessaries. They rowed about a league, and
then set me down on a strand. I desired
them to tell me what country it was. They
all swore,' they knew no more than myself;' but said, 'that the captain (as they
called him) was resolved, after they had
sold the lading, to get rid of me in the first
place where they could discover land.'
They pushed off immediately, advising me
to make haste for fear of being overtaken
by the tide, and so bade me farewell,
In this desolate condition I advanced
forward, and soon got upon firm ground,
where 1 sat down on a bank to rest myself,
and consider what I had best do. When I
was a little refreshed, I went up into the
country, resolving to deliver myself to the
first savages I should meet, and purchase
my life from them by some bracelets, glass
rings, and other toys, which sailors usually
provide themselves with in those voyages,
and whereof I had some about me. The
land was divided by long rows of trees, not
regularly planted, but naturally growing ;
there was great plenty of grass, and several
fields of oats. I walked very circumspectly,
for fear of being surprised, or suddenly
shot with an arrow from behind, or on
either side. I fell into a beaten road,
where I saw many tracts of human feet,
and some of cows, but most of horses. At
last I beheld several animals in a field, and
one or two of the same kind sitting in trees.
Their shape was very singular and deformed, which a little discomposed me, so
that I lay down behind a thicket to observe
them better. Some of them coming for.
ward near the place where I lay, gave me
an opportunity of distinctly marking their
form. Their heads and 'breasts were co.
vered with a thick hair, some frizled, and
others lank; they had beards like goats,
and a long ridge of hair down their backs,
and the fore parts of their legs and feet;
but the rest of their bodies was bare, so
that I might see their skins, which were of
a brown buff colour. They had no tails,
nor any hair at all on their buttocks, except about the anus; which, I presume,
nature had placed there to defend them, as
they sat on the ground; for this posture
they used, as well as lying down, and often stood on their hind feet. They climbed
high trees as nimbly as a squirrel, for they
bad strong extended claws before and behind, terminating in sharp points, and
hooked. They would often spring, and
bound, and leap, with prodigious agility.
The females were not so large as the
males; they had long lank hair on their
head, but none on their faces, nor any thing
more than a sort of down on the rest of
their bodies, except about the anus and
pudenda. The dugs hung between their
fore feet, and often reached almost to the
ground as they walked. The hair of both
sexes was of several colours, brown, red,
black, and yellow. Upon the whole, I
never beheld, in all my travels, so disagreeable an animal, or one against which I naconceived so strong an antipathy;

'nrally

so that thinking I had seen enough, full of
contempt and aversion, I got up, and pursued the beaten road, hoping it might direct me to the cabin of some Indian. I
had not got far, when I met one of these
creatures full in my way, and coming up
directly to me. The ugly monster, when
he saw me, distorted several ways every
feature of his visage, and stared, as at an
object he had never seen before ; then ap
proaching nearer, lifted up his fore-paw,
whether out of curiosity or mischief I
could not tell; but I drew my hanger, and
gave him a good blow with the fiat side of
it, for I durst not strike with the edge,
fearing the inhabitants might be provoked
against me, if they should come to know
that I had killed or maimed any of their
cattle. When the beast felt the smart, he
drew back, and roared so loud, that a herd
of at least forty came flocking about me
from the next field, howling and making
odious faces; but I ran to the body of a
tree, and leaning my back against it, kept
them off by waving my hanger. Several
of this cursed brood, getting hold of the
branches behind, leaped up into the tree,
whence they began to discharge their excrements on my head : however, I escaped
pretty well by sticking close to the stem of
the tree, but was almost stifled with the
filth, which fell about me on every side.
In the midst of this distress, I observed
them all to run away on a sudden as fast
as they could; at which I ventured to
leave the tree and pursue the road, won.
dering what it was that could put them
into this fright. But looking on my left
hand, I saw a horse walking softly in the
field; which my persecutors having soonerdiscovered, was the cause of their flight.
The horse started a little, when he came
near me, but soon recovering himself,
looked full in my face with manifest tokens of wonder. He viewed my hands
and feet, walking round me several times.
I would have pursued my journey, but he
placed himself directly in the way, yet
looking with a very mild aspect, never offering the least violence. We stood gazing
at each other for some time; at last I took
the boldness to reach my hand towards his
neck with a design to stroke it, using the
common style and whistle of jockeys, when
they are going to handle a strange horse.
But this animal seemed to receive my
civilities with disdain, shook his head, and
bent his brows, softly raising up his right
fore-foot to remove my hand. Then he
neighed three or four times, but in so different a cadence, that I almost began to
think he was speaking to himself, in some
language of his own.
While he and I were thus employed, an.
other horse cameup; who applying himself
first in a very formal manner, they gently
struck each other's right hoof before, neighing several times by turns, and varying the
sound, which seemed to be almost articulate. They went some paces off, as if it
were to confer together, walking side by
side, backward and forward, like persons
deliberating upon some affair of weight.

A VOYAGE TO THE HOUYHNHNMS.
but often turning their eyes towards me, as tion, and when I had ended, they neighed
it were to watch that I might not escape. 'requently towards each other, as if they
I was amazed to see such actions and be- were engaged in serious conversation. I
haviour in brute beasts; and concluded plainly observed that their language exwith myself, that if the inhabitants of this pressed the passions very well, and the
country were endued with a proportionable words might, with little pains, be resolved
degree of reason, they must needs be the into an alphabet more easily than the
wisest people upon earth. This thought Chinese.
I could frequently distinguish the word
gave me so much comfort, that I resolved
to go forward, until I could discover some Yahao, which was repeated by each of
house or village, or meet with any of the them several times: and although it was
natives, leaving the two horses to discourse impossible for me to conjecture what it
together as they pleased. But the first, meant, yet while the two horses were busy
who was a dapple gray, observing me to in conversation, I endeavoured to practise
steal off, neighed after me in so expressive this word upon my tongue; and as soon
a tone, that I fancied myself to understand as they were silent, I boldly pronounced
what he meant ; whereupon I turned back, Yahoo in a loud voice, imitating at the
and came near to him to expect his farther same time, as near as I could, the neigh.
commands; but concealing my fear as ing of a horse; at which they were both
much as I could; for I began to be in visibly surprised; and the gray repeated
some pain how this adventure might ter- the same word twice, as if he meant to
minate; and the reader will easily believe teach methe right accent; wherein I spoke
I did not much like my persent situation. after him as well as I could, and found
The two horses came up close to me, myself perceivably to improve every time,
looking with great earnestness upon my though very far from any degree of perface and hands. The gray steed rubbed fection. Then the bay tried me with a
my hat all round with his right fore-hoof, second word, much harder to be pronoun.
and discomposed it so much, that I was ced; but reducing it to the English orthoforced to adjust it better by taking it offf graphy, may be spelt thus, Houyhnhnm.
and settling it again; whereat, both he I did not succeed in this so well as in the
and his companion (who was a brown bay) former; but after two or three farther
appeared to be much surprised ; the latter trials, I had better fortune ; and they both
felt the lappet of my coat, and finding it to appeared amazed at my capacity.
After some further discourse, which I
hang loose about me, they both looked
with new signs of wonder. He stroked my then conjectured might relate to me, the
right hand, seeming to admire the softness two friends took their leaves, with the
and colour ; but he squeezed it so hard same compliment of striking each other's
between his hoof and his pastern, that I hoof; and the gray made me signs that I
was forced to roar; after which they both should walk before him; wherein I thought
touched me with all possible tenderness. it pruJent to comply, till I could find a
They were under great perplexity about better director. When I offbred to slackmy shoes and stockings, which they felt en my pace, he would cry hhuun hhuun :
very often, neighing to each other, and I guessed his meaning, and gave him to
using various gestures, not unlike those of understand, as well as I could, 'that I was
a philosopher, when he would attempt to weary, and not able to walk faster;' upon
solve some new and difficult phenomenon. which he would stand awhile to let me
Upon the whole, the behaviour of these rest.
animals was so orderly and rational, so
acute and judicious, that I at last conCHAPTER II.
cluded they must needs be magicians, who
had thus metamorphosed themselves upon
some design, and seeing a stranger in the The Author conducted by a Houyhnhn to
way, resolved to divert themselves with his house. The house described. The Auhim; or, perhaps, were really amazed at thor's reception. The food of the Huythe sight of a man so very different in ha- hnhnms. The Author in distrcssfor want
bit, feature, and complexion, from those of meat. Is at last relieved His manner
who might probably live in so rem6te a of feeding in this country.
climate. Upon the strength of this reasoning, I ventured to address them in the fol- HAVING travelled about three miles, we
lowing manner: 'Gentlemen, if you be came to a long kind of building, made or
conjurers, as I have good cause to believe, timber stuck in the ground, and wattled
you can understand my language; there- across; the roof was low, and covered
fore I make bold to let your worships with straw. I now began to be a little
know that I am a poor distressed English- comforted; and took out some toys, which
man, driven by his misfortunes upon your travellers usually carry for presents to the
coast; and I entreat one of you to let me savage Indians of America, and other
ride upon his back, as if he were a real parts, in hopes the people of the house
horse, to some house or village where I can would be thereby encouraged to receive
be relieved. In return of which favour, I me kindly. The horse made me a sign to
will make you a present of this knife and go in first; it was a large room with a
bracelet; taking them out of my pocket smooth clay floor, and a rack and manger,
The two creatures stood silent while 1 extending the whole length on one side.
spoke, seeming to listen with great atten- Tlhere were three nags aid two mares, not
'T

78

GULLIVER

8

TRAVELS.

eating, but some of them sitting down upon their hams, which I very much won..
dered at ; but wondered more to see the
rest employed in domestic business; these
seemed but ordinary cattle; however, this
confirmed my first opinion, that a people
who could so far civilise brute animals,
must needs excel in wisdom all the nations
of the world. The gray came in just after,
and thereby prevented any ill treatment
which the others might have given me.
He neighed to them several times in a
style of authority, and received answers.
Beyond this room there were three
others, reaching the length of the house,
to which you passed through three doors,
opposite to each other, in the manner of a
vista; we went through the second room
towards the third. Here the gray walked
in first, beckoning me to attend : I waited
in the second room, and got ready my preents for the master and mistress of the
house; they were two knives, three bracelets of false pearls, a small looking-glass,
and a bead necklace. The horse neighed
three or four times, and I waited to hear
some answers in a human voice, but I
heard no other returns than in the same
dialect, only one or two a little shriller
than his. I began to think that this house
must belong to some person of great note
among them, because there appeared so
much ceremony before I could gain admittance. But, that a man of quality
should be served all by horses, was beyond
my comprehension ; I feared my brain
was disturbed by my sufferings and misfortunes : I roused myself, and looked
about me in the room where I was left
alone: this was furnished like the first,
only after a more elegant manner. I rubbed my eyes often, but the same objects
still occurred. I pinched my arms and sides
to awake myself; hoping I might be in a
dream. I thei absolutely concluded, that
all these appearances could be nothing else
but necromancy and magic. But I had no
time to pursue these reflections ; for the
gray horse came to the door, and made
me a sign to follow him into the third
room where I saw a very comely mare,
together with a colt and foal, sitting on
their haunches upon mats of straw, not unartfully made, and perfectly neat and
clean.
The mare soon after my entrance rose
from her mat, and coining up close, after
having nicely observed my hands and face,
gave me a most contemptuous look; and
turning to the horse, 1 heard the word
Yahoo often repeated betwixt them ; the
meaning of which word I could not then

,after my landing, feeding upon roots, and
the flesh of some animals, which I after,.
wards found to be that of asses and dogs,
and now and then a cow, dead by accident
or disease. They were all tied by the
' neck with strong withes fastened to a
(beam; they held their food between the
claws of their fore feet, and tore it with
their teeth.
The master horse ordered a sorrel nag,
one of his servants, to untie the largest ol
these animals, and take him into the
yard. The beast and I were brought close
together, and by our countenances dill.
gently compared both by master and ser.
vant, who thereupon repeated several
times the word Yahoo. My horror and
astonishment are not to be described, when
I observed in this abominable animal, a
perfect human figure : the face of it in.
deed was flat and broad, the nose depressed,
the lips large, and the mouth wide ; but
these differences are common to all savage
nations, where the lineaments of the countenance are distorted, by the natives sufferiig their infants to lie grovelling on the
earth, or by carrying them on their backs,
nuzzling with their face against the
mothers' shoulders. The fore-feet of the
Yahoo differed from my hands in nothing
else but the length of the nails, the coarseness and brownness of the palms, and the
hairiness on the backs. 'here was the
same resemblance between our feet, with
the same differences; which I knew very
well, though the horses did not, because of
my shoes and stockings; the same in every
part of our bodies except as to hairiness
and colour, which I have already described.
The great difficulty that seemed to stick
with the two horses, was to see the rest of
my body so very different from that of a
Yahoo, for which 1 was obliged to my
clothes, wherof they had no conception.
The sorrel nag ofered me a root, which he
held (after their manner, as we shall describe in its proper place) between his hoof
and pastern ; I took it in my hand, and,
having smelt it, returned it to him again
as civilly as I could. He brought out of
the Yahoos' kennel a piece of ass's flesh, but
it smelt so offensively that I turned from it
with loathing: he then threw it to the
Yahoo, by whom it was greedily devoured.
He afterwards showed me a wisp of hay,
and a fetlock full of oats ; but 1 shook my
head, to signify that neither of these were
food for me. And indeed I now apprehended that I must absolutely starve, if I
did not get to some of my own species; for
as to those filthy Yahoos, although there
were few greater lovers of
smankind that
at

had learned to pronounce ; but I was soon
better informed, to my everlasting mortification; for the horse, beckoning to me
with his head, and repeating the hhuun,
hhuun, as he did upon the road, which I
understood was to attend him, led me out
into a kind of court, wiere was another
building, at some distance from the house
Here we entered, and 1 saw three of those
detestable creatures, which I first met

saw any sensitive being so detestable on all
accounts ; and the more I caine near them
the more hateful they grew, while I stayed in that country.
the master horse
observed by my behaviour, and therefore
sent the Yahoo back to his kennel. He
then put his fore-hoot to his mouth, at
which I was much surprised, although he
did it with ease, and with a motion that
appeared perfectly natural; and made

This

A VOYAGE TO THE HOUYHNHNMS.

79

other signs, to know what I would eat ; milk, to keep me alive, till I could make
but I could not return him such an answer my escape to some other country, and to
as he was able to apprehend; and if he creatures of my own species. The horse
had understood me, I did not see how it immediately ordered a white mare servant
was possible to contrive any way for find- of his family to bring me a good quantity
ing myself nourishment. While we were of oats in a sort of wooden tray. These I
thus engaged, I observed a cow passing by, heated before the fire, as well as I could,
whereupon I pointed to her, and expressed and rubbed them till the husks came of,
a desire to go and milk her. This had its which I made a shift to winnow from the
effect; for he led me back into the house, grain: I ground and beat them between
and ordered a mare-servant to open a two stones, then took water, and made
room, where a good store of milk lay in them into a paste or cake, which I toasted
earthen and wooden vessels, after a very at the fire, and eat warm with milk. It
orderly and cleanly manner. She gave me was at first a very insipid diet, though coma large bowlful, of which I drank very mon enough in many parts of Europe, but
grew tolerable by time; and having been
heartily, and found myself well refreshed.
About noon, I saw coming towards the often reduced to hard fare in my life, this
house a kind of vehicle drawn like a sledge was not the first experiment I had made
by four Yahoos. There was in it an old how easily nature is satisfied. And I cansteed, who seemed to be of quality; he not but observe, that I never had one
alighted with his hind-feet forward, hav- hour's sickness while I stayed in this is,
ing by accident got a hurt in his left fore- land. It is true, I sometimes made a shift
foot. He came to dine with our horse, to catch a rabbit, or bird, by springes made
who received him with great civility, of Yahoo's hairs; and I often gathered
They dined in the best room, and had oats wholesome herbs, which I boiled, and eat
boiled in milk for the seqond course, which as salads with my bread; and now and
warm, but the rest cold. then, for a rarity, I made a little butter,
the old horse eat
Their mangers were placed circular in the and drank the whey. I was at first at a
middle of the room, and divided into seve- great loss for salt, but custom soon reconme
ral partitions, round which they sat on ciled to the want of it; and I am contheir haunches, upon bosses of straw. In fident, that the frequent use of salt among
the middle was a large rack, with angles us is an effect of luxury, and was first inanswering to every partition of the man- troduced only as a provocative to drink,
ger; so that each horse and mare eat their except where it is necessary for preserving
own hay, and their own mash of oats and flesh in long voyages, or in places remote
milk, with much decency and regularity. from great markets; for we observe no
The behaviour of the young colt and foal animal to be fond of it but man, and as to
appeared very modest, and that of the myself, when I left this country, it was a
master and mistress extremely cheerful great while before I could endure the taste
and complaisant to their guest. The gray of it in any thing that I ate.
This is enough to say upon the subject
ordered me to stand by him; and much
discourse passed between him and his of my diet, wherewith other travellers fill
friend concerning me, as I found by the their books, as if the readers were personstranger's often looking on me, and the ally concerned whether we fare well or ill.
However, it was necessary to mention this
frequent repetition of the word Yahoo.
I happened to wear my gloves, which matter, lest the world should think it imthe master gray observing, seemed per- possible that I could find sustenance for
plexed, discovering signs of wonder what I three years in such a country, and among
had done to my fore-feet : he put his hoof such inhabitants.
When it grew towards evening, the masthree or four times to them, as if he would
signify, that I should reduce them to their ter horse ordered a place for me to lodge
former shape, which I presently did, pull- in; it was but six yards from the house,
ingoff both my gloves, and putting them and separated from the stable of theYahoos.
into my pocket. This occasioned farther Here Igot some straw, and covering my.
talk, and I saw the company was pleased self with my own clothes, slept very sound.
with my behaviour, whereof I soon found But I was in a short time better accommothe good effects. I was ordered to speak dated, as the reader shall know hereafter,
the few words I understood; and while when I come to treat more particularly
they were at dinner, the master taught me about my way of living.
the names for oats, milk, fire, water, and
--some others; which I could readily pronounce after him, having from my youth
CHAPTER III.
a great facility in learning languages.
When dinner was done, the master horse
took me aside, and by signs and words The Author studies to learn the language.
The Houyhnhnm, his master, assists in
made me understand the concern he was
teaching him. The language described.
inthat I had nothing to eat. Oats in their
Several Houyhnhnms of quality come out
tongue are called hlunnh. This word I
pronounced two or three times ; for al- of curiosity to see the Author. He gives
his master a short accountof his voyage.
though I had refused them at first, yet,
upon second thoughts, I considered that I
could contrive to make of them a kind of MY principal endeavour was to learn the
bread, which might be sufficient, with language, which ay master (for so Ishal

T 2

80

GULLIVER'S TRAVELS.

henceforth call him), and his children, 'He knew it was impossible that there
and every servant of his house, were de- could be a country beyond the sea, or that
sirous to teach me; for they looked upon a parcel of brutes could move a wooden
it as a prodigy, that a brute animal should vessel whither they pleased upon water.
discover such marks of a rational creature. He was sure no Houyhnhnm alive could
I pointed to every thing, and inquired the make such a vessel, nor would trust Yahoos
name of it, which I wrote down in my to manage it.'
journal-book when I was alone, and corThe word Houyhnhnm, in their tongue,
rected my bad accent, by desiring those of signifies a horse, and, in its etymology, the
the family to pronounce it often. In this perfection of nature. I told my master,
employment, a sorrel nag, one of the un- 'that I was at a loss for expression, but
der-servants, was very ready to assist me.
would improve as fast as I could; and
In speaking, they pronounced through hoped, in a short time, I should be able to
the nose and throat, and their language I tell him wonders.' He was pleased to diapproaches nearest to the High-Dutch, or rect his own mare, his colt, and foal, and
German, of any I know in Europe; but is the servants of the family, to take all opmuch more graceful and significant. The portunities of instructing me ; ad every
emperor Charles V. made almost the same day, for two or three hours, he was at the
observation, when he said, 'that if he were same pains himself: several horses and
to speak to his horse, it should be in High- mares of quality in the neighbourhood,
Dutch.' The curiosity and impatience of came often to our house, upon the report
my master were so great, that he spent spread of 'a wonderful Yahoo, that could
many hours of his leisure to instruct me. speak like a Houyhnhnm, and seemed, in
He was convinced (as he afterwards told his words and actions, to discover some
me) that I must be a lahoo; but my glimmerings of reason.' These delighted
teachableness, civility, and cleanliness, as- to converse with me; they put many
tonished him; which were qualities alto- questions, and received such answers as I
gether opposite to those animals. He was was able to return. By all these advanmost perplexed about my clothes, reason- tages I made so great a progress, that, in
ing sometimes with himself, whether they five months from my arrival, I understood
were a part of my body; for I never pulled whatever was spoken, and could express
them off till the family were asleep, and myself tolerably well.
got them on before they waked in the
The Houyhnhnms, who came to visit my
morning. My master was eager to learn master out of a design of seeing and talking
' whence I came; how I acquired those with me, could hardly believe me to be a
appearances of reason, which I discovered right Yahod, because my body had a diffein all my actions; and to know my story rent covering from others of my kind.
from my own mouth, which he hoped he They were astonished to observe me withshould soon do, by the great proficiency I out the usual hair or skin, except on my
made in learning and pronouncing their head, face, and hands; but I discovered
words and sentences.' Tohelp mymemory, that secret to my master upon an acci.
I formed all I learned into the English al- dent which happened about a fortnight be.
phabet, and writ the words down, with the fore.
translations. This last, after some time,
I have already told the reader, that every
I ventured to do in my master's presence. night, when the family were gone to bed,
It cost me much trouble to explain to it was my custom to strip, and cover my.
him what I was doing; for the inhabi- self with my clothes: it happened one
tants have not the least idea of books or morning early, that my master sent for me
by the sorrel nag, who was his valet;
literature,
In about ten weeks time, I was able to when he came I was fast asleep, my
understand most of his questions : and in clothes fallen offon one side, and my shirt
three months, could give him some tolera- above my waist. I awaked at the noise he
ble answers. He was extremely curious made, and observed him to deliver his mesto know 'from what part of the country I sage in some disorder; after which he
came, and how I was taught to imitate a went to my master, and in a great fright
rational creature; because the Yahoos gave him a very confused account of what
(whom he saw I exactly resembled in my he had seen: this I presently discovered,
head, hands, and face, that were only visi- for, going as soon as I was dressed to pay
ble), with some appearance of cunning, my attendance upon his honour, he asked
and the strongest disposition to mischief, me 'the meaning of what his servant had
were observed to be the most unteachable reported, that I was not the same thing
of all brutes.' I answered, 'that I came when I slept, as I appeared to be at other
over the sea from a fhr place, with many times; that his valet assured him, some
others of my own kind, in a great hollow part of me was white, some yellow, at least
vessel made of the bodies of trees: that my not so white, and some brown.'
I had hitherto concealed the secret of
companions forced me to land on this coast,
and then left me to shift for myself.' It my dress, in order to distinguish myself, as
was with some difficulty, and by the help of much as possible, from that cursed race of
many signs, that 1 brought him to under- Yahoos; but now I found it in vain to do
stand me. He replied, 'that I must needs so any longer. Besides, I considered that
be mistaken, or that I said the thing which my clothes and shoes would soon wear out,
was not;' for they have no word in their which already were in a declining conditjguage to express lying or falsehood. tion, and must be supplied by some contri-

A VOYAGE TO THE HOUYHNHNMS.
Vance from the hides of Yahoos, or other
orutes; whereby the whole secret would
oe known. I therefore told my master,
' that in the country whence I came, those
of my kind always covered their bodies
with the hairs of certain animals prepared
by art, as well for decency as to avoid the
Lnclemencies of air, both hot and cold; of
which, as to my own person, I would give
him immediate conviction, if he pleased to
command me : only desiring his excuse, if
I did not expose those parts that nature
taught us to conceal.' He said, 'my discourse was all very strange, but especially
the last part ; for he could not understand,
Why nature should teach us to conceal
what nature had given; that neither himself nor family were ashamed of any parts
of their bodies ; but, however, I might do
as I pleased.' Whereupon I first unbuttoned my coat, and pulled it off. I did the
same with my waistcoat. I drew off my
shoes, stockings, and breeches. I let my
shirt down to my waist, and drew up the
bottom, fastening it like a girdle about my
middle, to hide my nakedness.
My master observed the whole performance with great signs of curiosity and admiration. He took up all my clothes in
his pastern, one piece after another, and
examined them diligently; he then stroked
my body very gently, and looked round me
several times ; after which, he said, it was
plain I must be a perfect Yahoo ; but that
I differed very much from the rest of my
species, in the softness, whiteness, and
smoothness of my skin; my want of hair
in several parts of my body; the shape and
shortness of my claws behind and before;
and my affectation of walking continually
on my two hinder feet. He desired to
see no more; and gave me leave to put on
my clothes again, for I was shuddering with
cold.
I expressed my uneasiness at his giving
me so often the appellation of Yahoo, an
odious animal, for which I had so utter a
hatred and contempt : I begged he would
forbear applying that word to me, and
make the same order in his family and
among his friends whom he suffered to see
me. 1 requested likewise, 'that the secret of my having a false covering to my
body, might be known to none but himself, at least as long as my present clothing
should last; for, as to what the sorrel nag,
his valet, had observed, his honour might
command him to conceal it.'
All this my master very graciously congented to, and thus the secret was kept till
my clothes began to wear out, which I was
forced to supply by several contrivances
that shall hereafter be mentioned. In the
mean time, he desired ' I would go on with
my utmost diligence to learn their language, because he was more astonished
at my capacity for speech and reason,
than at the figure of my body, whether
it were covered or not;' adding, 'that he
waited with some impatience to hear the
wonders which I promised to tell him.'
Thenceforward he doubled the pains he
!ad been at to instruct me : he brought me

81

into all company, and made them treat vm
e
with civility; because,' as he told then
privately, 'this would put me into goo
humour, and make me more diverting.'
Every day, when I waited on him, besid
the trouble he was at in teaching, h
would ask me several questions concernin
myself, which I answered as well as e
could, and by these means he had alread Y
y
received some general ideas, though ver y
imperfect. It would be tedious to relate th
several steps by which I advanced to a
more regular conversation; but the first
account I gave of myself in any order an d
length was to this purpose.
'That I came from a very far country, ,
s
as I already had attempted to tell him
with about fifty more of my own species
that we travelled upon the seas in a grea
hollow vessel made of wood, and larger tha n
his honour's house. I described the shi p
to him in the best terms I could, and ex
plained, by the help of my handkerchie f
displayed, how it was driven forward b y
the wind. That upon a quarrel among us
I was set on shore on this coast, where
walked forward, without knowing whi i.
ther, till he delivered me from the perse
cution of those execrable Yahoos.' H e
asked me, 'who made the ship, and how i it
was possible that the Houyhnhnms of m y
country would leave it to the managemen
of brutes?' My answer was, ' that I durs
proceed no further in my relation, unles s
he would give me his word and honou
that he would not be offended, and then
would tell him the wonders I had so ofte n
promised.' He agreed; and I went on b y
assuring him, that the ship was made b 1y
creatures like myself; who, in all the coun
tries I had travelled, as well as in my own ,
were the only governing rational animals
and that upon my arrival hither, 1 was a as
much astonished to see the Houyhnnm
act like rational beings, as he, or hi
friends, could be, in finding some marks
reason in a creature he was pleased to cal
a Yahoo; to which I owned my resem !blance in every part, but could not accoun t
for their degenerate and brutal nature.' I
said farther, ' that if good fortune eve r
restored me to my native country, to re
late my travels hither, as I resolved to do
every body would believe, that I said th e
thing that was not, that I invented th e
story out of my own head; and (with al l
possible respect to himself, his family, an
friends, and under his promise of not bein g
offended) our countrymen would hardl Y
think it probable that a Houyghnhnm shoulk
be the presiding creature of a nation, and a
Yahoo the brute.'
e-

r

f

CHAPTER IV
The Houyhnhnm's notion of truth ands
falsehood. The Author's discourse dis
approvedby his master. The Author give $
a more particularaccount of himsnelf, an
the accidents of his voyage.
M" master heard me with great appear

*32

GULLIVER'S

ances of uneasiness in his countenance ;
because doubting, or not believing, are so
little known in this country, that the inhabitants cannot tell how to behave themselves under such circumstances: and I
remember, in frequent discourses with my
master concerning the nature of manhood
in other parts of the world, having occasion
to talk of lying and false representation, it
was with much difficulty that he comprehended what I meant, although he had
otherwise a most acute judgment. For he
argued thus : 'that the use of speech was
to make us understand one another, and to
receive information of facts; now, if any
one said the thing which was not, these ends
were defeated, because I cannot properly
be said to understand him; and I am so far
from receiving information, that he leaves
me worse than in ignorance, for I am led
to believe a thing black, when it is white,
and short, when it is long.' And these
were all the notions he had concerning that
faculty of lying, so perfectly well understood, and so universally practised, among
human creatures.
To return from this digression. When I
asserted that the Yahoos were the only governing animals in my country, which my
master said was altogether past his conception, he desired to know, 'whether we
had Houyhnhnms among us, and what was
their employment?' I told him, 'we had
great numbers; that in summer they
grazed in the fields, and in winter were
kept in houses with hay and oats, where
Yahoo servants were employed to rub their
skins smooth, comb their manes, pick their
feet, serve them with food, and make their
beds.' ' I understand you well,' said my
master: ' it is now very plain, from all you
have spoken, that whatever share of reason
the Yahoos pretend to, the Houyhnhnms
are your masters; I heartily wish our
Yahoos would be so tractable.' I begged
'his honour would please to excuse me
from proceeding any further, because I
was very certain that the account he expected from me would be highly displeasing.' But hlie
insisted in commanding me
to let him know the best and the worst. I
told him' he should be obeyed.' I owned
Sthat the Houyhnhnms among us, whom
we called horses, were the most generous
and comely animal we had; that they excelled in strength and swiftness; and
when they belonged to persons of quality,
were employed in travelling, racing, or
drawing chariots; they were treated with
much kindness and care, till they fell into
diseases, or became foundered in the feet;
but then they were sold, and used to all
kind of drudgery till they died; after
which their skins were stripped, and sold
for what they were worth, and their bodies
left to be devoured by dogs and birds of
prey. But the common race of horses had
not so good fortune, being kept by farmers
and carriers, and other mean people, who
put them to greater labour, and fed them
worse.' I described, as well as I could,
our way of riding; the shape and use of
a bridle, a saddle, a spur, and a whip; of

IRAVELS.

I

harness and wheels.
added, 'that we
fastened plates of a certain hard substance,
called iron, at the bottom of their feet, to
preserve their hoofs from being broken by
the stony ways, on which we often traveiled.'
My master, after some expressions of
great indignation, wondered 'how
we
dared to venture upon a Houyhnhnm's
back; for he was sure, that the weakest servant in his house would be able to shake off
the strongest Yahoo; or by lying down,
and rolling on his back, squeeze the brute to
death.' I answered 'that our horses were
trained up, from three or four years old,
to the several uses we intended them for ;
that if any of them proved intolerably vicious, they were employed for carriages;
that they were severely beaten, while they
were young, for any mischievous tricks :
that the males, designed for the common
use of riding or draught, were generally
castrated about two years after their birth,
to take down their spirits, and make them
more tame and gentle; that they were indeed sensible of rewards and punishments;
but his honour would please to consider, that
they had not the least tincture of reason,
any more than the Yahoos in this country."
It put me to the pains of many circumlocutions, to give my master a right idea
of what I spoke; for their language does
not abound in variety of words, because
their wants and passions are fewer than
among us. But it is impossible to express his noble resentment at our savage
treatment of the Houyhnhnm race; particularly after I had explained the manner
and use of castrating horses among us, to
hinder them from propagating their kind,
and to render them more servile. He
said, ' ift were possible there could be
any country where Yahoos alone were endued with reason, they certainly must be
the governing animal; because reason in
time will always prevail against brutal
strength. But, considering the frame of
our bodies, and especially of mine, he
thought no creature of equal bulk was
so ill-contrived for employing that reason
in the common offices of life;' whereupon
he desired to know 'whether those among
whom I lived resembled me or the Yahoos
of his country. I assured him, that I was
as well shaped as most of my age; but the
younger, and the females, were much more
soft and tender, and the skins of the latter
generally as white as milk.' He said, ' I
differed indeed from other Yahoos, being
much more cleanly, and not altogether so
deformed; but, in point of real advantage, he thought I differed for the worse :
that my nails were of no use either to
my fore or hinder feet; as to my fore
feet, he could not properly call them by
that name, for he never observed me
to walk upon them; that they were too
soft to bear the ground; that I gener.
ally went with them uncovered; neither was the covering I sometimes wore
on them of the same shape, or so strong as
that on my feet behind: that I could not
walk with any security, for if either of my

A VOYAGE TO THE HOUYHNHNMS.

$8

hinder feet slipped, I must inevitably fall.' verty or their crimes. Some were undone
He then began to find fault with other by lawsuits; others spent all they had in
parts of my body: 'the flatness of my drinking, whoring, and gaming; others
face, the prominence of my nose, mine fled for treason; many for murder, theft,
eyes placed directly in front, so that I poisoning, robbery, perjury, forgery, coincould not look on either side, without ing false money, for committing rapes, or
turning my head: that I was not able to sodomy; for flying from their colours, of
feed myself, without lifting one of my deserting to the enemy; and most of them
fore-feet to my mouth: and therefore na- had broken prison; none of these durst reture had placed those joints to answer that turn to their native countries, for fear of
necessity. He knew not what could be being hanged, or ofstarving in a jail; and
the use of those several clefts and divisions therefore they were under the necessity of
in my feet behind; that these were too seeking a livelihood inother places.
During this discourse, my master was
soft to bear the hardness and sharpness of
stones, without a covering made from the pleased to interrupt me several times. I
skin of some other brute; that my whole had made use of many circumlocutions in
body wanted a fence against heat and describing to him the nature of the several
cold, which I was forced to put on and off crimes for which most of our crew had
every day, with tediousness and trouble : been forced to fly their country. This laand lastly, that he observed every animal in bour took up several days' conversation,
this country naturally to abhor the Yahoos,before he was able to comprehend me. He
whom the weaker avoided, and the was wholly at a loss to know what could be
stronger drove from them. So that, sup- the use or necessity of practising those
posing us to have the gift of reason, he vices. To clear up which, I endeavoured
could not see how it were possible to cure to give some ideas of the desire of power
that natural antipathy, which every crea- and riches; of the terrible effects of lust,
ture discovered against us; nor conse- intemperance, malice, and envy. All this
quently how we could tame and render I was forced to define and describe by putthem serviceable. However, he would,' ting cases and making suppositions. After
as he said, 'debate the matter no farther, which, like one whose imagination was
because he was more desirous to know my struck with something never seen or heard
own story, the country where I was born, of before, he would lift up his eyes with
and the several actions and events of my amazement and indignation. Power, golife, before I came hither.'
vernment, war, law, punishment, and a
1 assured him, 'how extremely desirous thousand other things, had no terms,
I was that he should be satisfied on every wherein that language could express them;
point; but I doubted much, whether it which made the difficulty almost insuperwould be possible for me to explain myself able, to give my master any conception of
on several subjects, whereof his honour what I meant. But being of an excellent
could have no conception ; because I saw understanding, much improved by contemnothing in his country to which I could plation and converse, he at last arrived at
resemble them: that, however I would a competent knowledge of what human
do my best, and strive to express myself nature, in our parts of the world, is capable
by similitudes, humbly desiring his assist- to perform; and desired I would give him
ance when I wanted proper words;' which some particular account of that land which
we call Europe, but especially of my own
he was pleased to promise me.
I said, ' my birth was of honest parents, country.
in an island called England; which was
remote from his country, as many days'
journey as the strongest of his honour's
CHAPTER V.
servants could travel in the annual course
of the sun: that I was bred a surgeon,
whose trade it is to cure wounds and hurts The Author, at his master's commands, informs him of the state of England. The
in the body, gotten by accident or violence;
that my country was governed by a female
causes of war among the princes of Eu.man, whom we called queen; that I left
rope. The Author begins to cexplain the
English constitution.
it to get riches, whereby I might maintain
myself and family, when I should return;
that, in my last voyage, I was commander THE reader may please to observe, that
un- the following extractof many conversations
of the ship, and had about fifty Yahoos
der me, many of which died at sea, and I I had with my master, contains a summary
was forced to supply them by others picked of the most material points, which were
out from several nations; that our ship discoursed at several times for above two
was twice in danger of being sunk, the years; his honour often desiring fuller sa.first time by a great storm, and the second tisfaction, as I farther improved in the
by striking against a rock.' Here my mas- Houyhnhnm tongue. I laid before him, as
ter interposed, by asking me, 'how I could well as I could, the whole state of Europe;
persuade strangers, out of different coun- I discoursed of trade and manufactures, of
tries, to venture with me, after the losses arts and sciences; and the answers I gave
.1 had sustained, and the hazards I had to all the questions he made, as they arose
run.' I said, 'they were fellows of des- upon several subjects, were a fund of conperate fortunes, forced to fly from the versation not to be exhausted. But I shall
places of their birth on account of their lio- here only set down the substance of what

86

GULLIVER'S TRAVELS

passed between us concerning my own
country, reducing it in order as well as I
can, without any regard to time or other
circumstances, while 1 strictly adhere to
truth. My only concern is, that I shall
hardly be able to do justice to my master's
arguments and expressions, which must
needs suffer by my want of capacity, as
well as by a translation into our barbarous
English.
In obedience therefore to his honour's
commands, I related to him the revolution
under the prince of Orange; the long war
with France, entered into by the said
prince, and renewed by his successor, the
present queen; wherein the greatest
powers of Christendom were engaged, and
which still continued: I computed at his
request, 'that about a million of Yahoos
might have been killed in the whole progress of it ; and perhaps a hundred or more
cities taken, and five times as many ships
burnt or sunk.'
He asked me, 'what were the usual
causes or motives that made one country
go to war with another?' I answered
'they were innumerable; but I should only mention a few of the chief. Sometimes
the ambition of princes, who never think
they have land or people enough to govern; sometimes the corruption of ministers, who engage their master in a war, in
order to stifle or divert the clamour of the
subjects against their evil administration.
Difference in opinions has cost many millions of lives ; for instance, whether flesh
be bread, or bread be flesh; whether the
juice of a certain berry be blood or wine, a
whether whistling be a vice or a virtue; twhether it be better to kiss a post, or throw
it into the fire;$ what is the best colour
for a coat, whether black, white, red, or
gray ; and whether it should be long or
short, narrow or wide, dirty or clean, with
many more. § Neither are any wars so
furious and bloody, or of so long a continuance, as those occasioned by difference
in opinion, especially if it be in things indifferent,
'Sometimes the quarrel between two
princes is to decide which of them shall
dispossess a third of his dominions, where
neither of them pretend to any right :
sometimes one prince quarrels with another, for fear the other should quarrel
with him: sometimes a war is entered upon, because the enemy is too strong; and
sometimes, because he is too weak : sometimes our neighbours want the things
which we have, or have the things which
we want, and we both fight, till they take
ours, or give us theirs. It is a very justifiable cause of a war, to invade a country
after the people have been wasted by famine, destroyed by pestilence, or embroiled
by factions among themselves. It is justifiable to enter into war against our nearest ally, when one of his towns lies conve,
Tranubstantiation.-H. t Church music.-H.

SKissing a cross.-H,

fThe colour and make of sacied vestments

dtiirent orders of popish ecclesiastics.

and

nient for us, or a territory of lana, that
would render our dominions round and
compact. If a prince sends forces into a
nation, where the people are poor and ignorant, he may lawfully put half of them
to death and make slaves of the rest, in order to civilize and reduce them from their
barbarous way of living. It is a very kingly, honourable, and frequent practice, when
one princedesires the assistance of another,
to secure him against an invasion, thatthe
assistant, when he has driven out the invader, should seize on the dominions himself,
and kill, imprison, or banish, the prince he
came to relieve. Alliance by blood, or
marriage, is a frequent cause of war be.
tween princes; and the nearer the kindred is, the greater their disposition to
quarrel: poor nations are hungry, and rich
nations are proud: and pride and hunger
will ever beat variance. For these reasons,
the trade of a soldier is held the most
honourable of all others; because a soldier
is a Yahoo hired to kill, in cold blood, as
many of his own species, who have never
offended him, as possibly he can.
' There is likewise a kind of beggarly
princes in Europe, not able to make war
by themselves, who hire out their troops to
richer nations, for so much a day to each
man; of which they keep three-fourths to
themselves, and it is the best part of their
maintenance; such are those in maiy
northern parts of Europe.'
' What you have told me,' said my master, 'upon the subject of war, does indeed
discover most admirably the effects of that
reason you pretend to : however, it is happy that the shame is greater than the dan.
ger; and that nature has left you utterly
incapable of doing much mischief. For,
your mouths lying flat with your faces, you
can hardly bite each other to any purpose,
unless by consent. Then as to the claws
upon your feet before and behind, they are
so short and tender, that one of our Yahoos
would drive a dozen of yours before him.
And therefore, in recounting the numbers
of those who have been killed in battle, 1
cannot but think you have said the thing
which is not.'
I could not forbear shaking my head
and smiling a little at his ignorance. And
being no stranger to the art of war, I gave
him a description of cannons, culverins,
muskets, carabines, pistols, bullets, powder,
swords, bayonets, battles, sieges, retreats,
attacks, undermines, countermines, bombardments, sea fights, ships sunk with a
thousand men, twenty thousand killed on
each side, dying groans, limbs flying in the
air, smoke, noise, confusion, trampling to
death under horses' feet, flight, pursuit,
victory; fields strewed with carcases, left
for food to dogs and wolves, and birds or
prey; plundering, stripping, ravishing,
burning, and destroying. And to set forth
the valour of my own dear countrymen, I
assured him, 'that I had seen hem blow
up a hundred enemies at once in a siege,
and as many in a ship ; and beheld the
dead bodies drop down in pieces from the

A VOYAGE TO THE HOUYHNHNMS.

85

to
clouds, the great' diversion of the spec- versed, further than by employing advo.
tators.'

*

I was going on to more particulars,
when my master commanded me silence.
He said, 'whoever understood the nature
of Yahoos, might easily believe it possible
for so vile an animal to be capable of every
action I had named, if their strength and
cunning equalled their malice. But as my
discourse had increased his abhorrence of
the whole species, so he found it gave him
a disturbance in his mind, to which he was
wholly a stranger before. He thought his
ears, being used to such abominable words,
might, by degrees, admit them with less
detestation: that although he hated the
Yahoos of this country, yet he no more
blamed them for their odious qualities,
than he did a gnnayh (a bird of prey) for
Its
cruelty, or a sharp stone for cutting his
hoof. But when a creature pretending to
reason could be capable of such emormities,
he dreaded lest the corruption of that famight be worse than brutality itself.
culty
He seemed therefore confident, that, instead of reason, we were only possessed of
some quality, fitted to increase our natural
vices; as the relection from a troubled
stream returns the: image of an ill shapen
body, not only larger but more distorted.'
He added, 'that he had heard too much
upon the subject of war, both in this and
some former discourses. There was another point, which a little perplexed him
at present. I had informed him, that
some of our crew left their country on account of being ruined by law; that I had
already explained the meaning of the
word; but he was at a loss how it should
come to pass, that the law, which was intended for every man's preservation, should
be any man's ruin. Therefore he desired
to be further satisfied what I mealrt by
law, and the dispensers thereof, according
to the present practice in my own country : because he thought nature and reason were sufficient guides for a reasonable
animal, as we pretended to be, in showing
us what he ought to do, and what toavoid.'
I assured his honour, ' that the law was
a science, in which I had not much con-

cates in vain. upon some injustices that

had been done me : however, I would give
him all the satisfaction I was able.'
I said, ' there was a societyof men among
us, bred up from their youth in the art of
proving, by words multiplied for the purpose, that white is black, and black is
white, according as they are paid. To this
society all the rest of the people are slaves.
For example, if my neighbour has a mind
to my cow, he has a lawyer to prove that
he ought to have my cow from me. I
must then hire another to defend my right,
it being against all rules of law that any
man should be allowed to speak for himself. Now, in this case, I, who am the
right owner, lie under two great disadvantages : first, my lawyer, being practised almost from his cradle in defending falsehood,
is quite out of his element when he would
be an advocate for justice, which is an un.
natural office he always attempts with
great awkwardness, if not with ill will.
The second disadvantage is, that my lawyer must proceed with great caution,
or else he will be reprimanded by the
judges, and abhorred by his brethren, as
one that would lessen lie practice of the
law. And therefore I have but two methods to preserve my cow. The first is, to
gain over my adversary's lawyer with a
double fee, who will then betray his client
by insinuating that he has justice on his
side. The second way is for my lawyer to
make my cause appear as unjust as he can,
by allowing the cow to belong to my adversary: and this, if it be skillfully done,
will certainly bespeak the favour of the
bench. Now your honour isto know, that
these judges are persons appointed to decide all controversies of property, as well as
for the trial of criminals, and picked out
from the most dexterous lawyers, who are
grown old or lazy; and having been biassed all their lives against truth and equity,
lie under such a fatal necessity of favouring fraud, perjury, and oppression, that I
have known some of them refuse a large
bribe from the side where justice lay,
rather than injure the faculty, by doing
any thing unbecoming their nature or

their office.
" It would perhaps be impossible, by the most
' It is a maxim among these lawyers
laboured argument,orforcible eloquence, toshow
the absurd injustice and horrid cruelty of war so that whatever has been done before, ma:
effectually, as by this simple exhibition ofthemina legally be done again : and therefore they
speciesiniof
every
new light: with war, including
quity
and every art oaf
destruction, we become fa- take special care to record all the decisions
milar, by degrees, under specious terms, which formerly made against common justice,
are seldom examined, because they are learned at and the general reason of mankind. These,
an age in which the mind implicitly receives and under the name of precedents, they
o
the
thorite o justif
retains whatever is impressed : thus it happens,
the most ini,
to
an
muderanother togratify his duce as authorities justify
that when onem
lust, we shudder; butwhen one man murders a quitous opinions; and the judges never
to
million gratify his vanity, we approve and we ad- fail of directing accordingly.
In plead
mire, we envy and we applaud. If, when this and
the preceding pages are read, we discaver with asl g, they studiously avoid entonishment, that when the same events have oc- tering into the merits of the cause; but
and
curred in history we felt no emotion, aquiesced are loud, violent, and tedious, in dwelling
in wars which we could butknow tohave been upon all circumstances which are not to
not
commenced for such causes, and cuarried on by
o
ce in the case
instance, inthe ca u,
For in
much
such means; let nothim be censured for too
who
debasing his species, has contributed to their ready mentioned ; they never desire to
felicity and preservation, by stripping off the veil know what claim or title my adversary has
of customand prejudice, and holding up in their to my cow; but whither the said cow were
ho
hon
lg
native deformity the vices b which they becomek
;
red or black her hornslong or short;
are
wretched, and the arts by whch they destroyed.

pro-

al-

..

whether the field I graze her in be round

86

GULLIVER'S TRAVELS.

or square; whether she was milked at
home or abroad; what diseases she is subject to, and the like; after which they
consult precedents, adjourn the cause from
time to time, and in ten, twenty, or thirty
years, come to an issue.
It is likewise to be observed, that this
society has a peculiar cant and jargon of
their own, that no other mortal can understand, and wherein all their laws are written, which they take special care to multiply; whereby they have wholly confounded the very essence of truth and
falsehood, of right and wrong; so that it
will take thirty years to decide, whether
the field, left me by my ancestors for six
generations, belongs to me, or to astranger
three hundred miles off.
'In the trial of persons accused for
crimes against the state, the method is
much more short and commendable: the
judge first sends to sound the disposition of
those in power, after which he can easily
hang or save a criminal, strictly preserving
all due forms of law.'
Here my master interposing, said, it was
a pity, that creatures endowed with such
prodigious abilities of mind, as these lawyers, by the description I gave of them,
must certainly be, were not rather encouraged to be instructors of others in wisdom
and knowledge.' In answer to which I assured his honour, 'that in all points of
their own trade, they were usually the
most ignorant and stupid generation among
us, the most despicable in common conversation, avowed enemies to all knowledge
and learning, and equally disposed to pervert the general reason of mankind, in
every other subject of discourse as in that
of their own profession.'

CHAPTER VI.
4 continuationof the state of England un.
der Queen Anne. The character of a
first ministerof state in European courts.
IV master was yet wholly at a loss to understand what motives could incite this
race of lawyers to perplex, disquiet, and
weary themselves, and engage in a confederacy of injustice, merely for the sake of
Injuring their fellow-animals; neither
could he comprehend what I meant in saying, they did it for hire. Whereupon I
was at much pains to describe to him the
use of money, the materials it was made
of; and the value of the metals; ' that
when a Yahoo had got a great store of this
precious substance, he was able topurchase
whatever he had a mind to, the finest
clothing, the noblest houses, great tracts of
land, the most costly meats and drinks,
and have his choice of the most beautiful
females. Therefore since money alone
was able to perform all these feats, our
Yahoos thought they could never have
enough of it to spend, or to save, as they
found themselves inclined, from their na.-

tural bent, either to profusion or avarice
That the rich man enjoyed the fruit of the
poor man's labour, and the latter were a
thousand to one in proportion to the for
mer. That the bulk of our people were
forced to live miserably, by labouring every
day for small wages, to make a few live
plentifully.'
I enlarged myself much on these, and
many other particulars to the same purpose; but his honour was still to seek; for
he went upon a supposition, that all animals had a title to their share in the productions of the earth, and especially those
who presided over the rest. Therefore he
desired I would let him know, 'what these
costly meats were, and how any of us happened to want them?' Whereupon I enumerated as many sorts as came into my
head, with the various methods of dressing
them, which could not be done without
sending vessels by sea to every part of the
world, as well for liquors to drink as for
sauces and innumerable other conveniences. I assured him 'that this whole globe
of earth must be at least three times gone
round, before one of our better female Yahoos could get her breakfast, or a cup to
put it in.' He said' that must needs be a
miserable country, which cannot furnisn
food for its own inhabitants. But what he
chiefly wondered at was, how such vast
tracts of ground as I described should be
wholly without fresh water, and the people
put to the necessity of sending over the sea
for drink.' I replied 'that England (the
dear place of my nativity) was computed
to produce three times the quantity of
food more than its inhabitants are able to
consume, as well as liquors extracted from
grain, or pressed out of the fruit of certain
trees, which made excellent drink ; and the
same proportion in every other convenience
of life. But, in order to feed the luxury
and intemperance of the males, and thevanity of the females, we sent away the greatest part of our necessary things to other
countries, whence in return we brought the
materials of diseases, folly, and vice, to
spend among ourselves. Hence it follows
of necessity, that vast numbers of our
people are compelled to seek their livelihood by begging, robbing, stealing, cheating, pimping, flattering, suborning, forswearing, forging, gaming, lying, fawning,
hectoring, voting, scribbling, star-gazing,
poisoning, whoring, canting, libelling, freethinking, and the like occupations:' every
one of which terms I was at much pains
to make him understand.
"hat wine was not imported among us
from foreign countries, to supply the want
of water or other drinks, but because it
was a sort of liquid, which made us merry
by putting us out of our senses, diverted
all melancholy thoughts, begat wild extravagant imaginations in the brain, raised
our hopes and banished our fears, suspended every office of reason for a time, and
deprived us of the use of our limbs, till we
fell into a profound sleep; although it
must be confessed, that we always awaked
sick and dispirited ; and that the use of

A VOYAGE TO THE HOUYHNHNMS.
this liquor filled us with diseases, which
mavl our lives iuncomfortable and short.
' fd1 t beside all this, the bulk of our
Ipeople supported themselves by furnishing
the '"',essities or conveniences of life, to
the riseh, and to each other. For instance,
whun I am at home, and dressed as I
ougrt ;o be, I carry on ly body the workma.aus p of a hundred tradesmen; the
buoling and furniture of my house employ as many more, and five times the
number to adorn my wife.'
I was going on to tell him of another
sort of people, who get their livelihood by
attending the sick, having, upon some occasions, informed his honour, that many
of my crew had died of diseases. But here
it was with the utmost difficulty that I
brought him to apprehend what I meant.
' e could easily conceive, that a Houyhnhnm grew weak and heavy a few days
before his death, or by some accident
might hurt a limb; but that nature, who
works all things to perfection, should suffer any pains to breed in our bodies,
he thought impossible, and desired to
know the reason of so unaccountable an
evil.'
I told him 'we fed on a thousand things,
which operated contrary to each other;
that we eat when we were not hungry,
and drank without the provocation of
thirst; that we sat whole nights drinking
strong liquors, without eating a bit, which
disposed us to sloth, inflamed our bodies,
and precipitated or prevented digestion.
That prostitute female Yahoos acquired a
certain malady, which bred rottenness in
the bones of those who fell into their embraces ; that this, and many other diseases,
were propagated from father to son; so
that great numbers came into the world
with complicated maladies upon them;
that it would be endless to give him a
catalogue of all diseases incident to human
bodies, for they would not be fewer than
five or six hundred, spread over every
limb and joint-in short, every part, ex.
ternal and intestine, having diseases appropriated to itself. To remedy which, there
was a sort of people bred up among us in
the profession, or pretence, of curing the
sick. And because I had some skill in the
faculty, I would, in gratitude to his honour, let him know the whole mystery and
method by which they proceed.
'Their fundamental is, that all diseases
arise from repletion; whence they conlude, that a great evacuation of the body
rs necessary, either through the natural
passage or upwards at the mouth. Their
r.ext business is from herbs, minerals,
gums, oils, shells, salts, juices, seaweed,
excrements, barks of trees, serpents, toads,
frogs, spiders, dead men's flesh and bones,
birds, beasts, and fishes, to form a composition, for smell and taste, the most abominable, nauseous, and detestable, they can
possibly contrive, which the stomach im.
mediately rejects with loathing, and this
they call a vomit; or else, from the same
store-house, with some other poisonous
additions, they command us to take in at

87

the orifice above or below (just as the phy.
sician then happens to be disposed) a medi.
cine equally annoying and disgustful to the
bowels; which, relaxing the belly, drives
down all before it; and this they call a
purge, or a clyster. For nature (as the
physicians allege) having intended the su.
perior anterior orifice only for the intro.
mission of solids and liquids, and the inferior posterior for ejection; these artists
ingeniously considering, that in all diseases
nature is forced out of her seat, therefore,
to replace her in it, the body must be
treated in a manner directly contrary, by
interchanging the use of each orifice;
forcing solids and liquids in at the anus,
and making evacuations at the mouth.
' But, besides real diseases, we are suo.
ject to many that are only imaginary, for
which the physicians have invented imaginary cures; these have their several
names, and so have the drugs that are pro.
per for them; and with these our female
Yahoos are always infested.
' One great excellency in this tribe, is
their skill at prognostics, wherein they seldom fail; their predictions in real diseases,
when they rise to any degree of malignity,
generally portending death, which is always in their power, when recovery is
not: and therefore, upon any unexpected
signs of amendment, after they have pro.
nounced their sentence, rather than be ac.
cused as false prophets, they know how to
approve their sagacity to the world, by a
seasonable dose
' They are likewise of special use to husbands and wives who are grown weary of
their mates; to eldest sons, to great ministers of state, and often to princes.'
I had formerly, upon occasion, discoursed
with my master upon the nature of government in general, and particularly of our
own excellent constitution, deservedly the
wonder and envy of the whole world. But
having here accidentally mentioned a minister of state, he commanded me some
time after to inform him, ' what species of
Yahoo I particularly meant by that appellation.'
I told him, ' that a first or chief minister
of state, who was the person I intended to
describe, was a creature wholly exempt
from joy and grief, love and hatred, pity
and anger; at least makes use of no other
passions, but a violent desire of wealth,
power, and titles; that he applies his word
to all uses, except to the indication of his
mind; that he never tells a truth hut with
an intent that you should take :t for a
lie; nor a lie, but with a design that you
should take it for a truth; that those he
speaks worst of behind their backs are in
the surest way of preferment; and whenever he beginsto praise you to others, or to
yourself, you are from that day forlorn.
The worst mark you can receive is a pro.
mise, especially when it is confirmed with
an oath; after which, every wise man re.
tires, and gives over all hopes.
' There are three methods, by which a
man may rise to be chief minister. The
first is, by knowing how, with prudence, to

GULLIVER'S TRAVELS.
dispose of a wife, a daughter, or a sister :
the second, by betraying or undermining
his predecessor : and the third is, by a furious zeal, in public assemblies, against the
corruptions of the court. But a wise
prince would rather choose to employ
those who practise the last of these methods; because such zealots prove always
the most obsequious and subservient to the
will and passions of their master. That
these ministers, having all employments at
their disposal, preserve themselves in
power, by bribing the majority of a senate
or great council; and at last, by an expedient, called an act of indemnity (whereof
I described the nature to him), they secure
themselves from after-reckonings, and retire from the public laden with the spoils
of the nation.
' The palace of a chief minister is a seminary to breed up others in his own
trade: the pages, lackeys, and porter, by
imitating their master, become ministers
of state in their several districts, and learn
to excel in the three principal ingredients,
of insolence, lying, and bribery. Accordingly, they have a subaltern court paid to
them by persons of the best rank; and
sometimes, by the force of dexterity and
impudence, arrive, through several gradations, to be successors to their lord..
' He is usually governed by a decayed
wench, or favourite footman, who are the
tunnels through which all graces are conveyed, and may properly be called, in the
last resort, the governors of the kingdom.'
One day in discourse, my master, having
heard me mention the nobility of my country, was pleased to make me a compliment
which I could not pretend to deserve:
'that he was sure I must have been born
of some noble family, because I far exceeded in shape, colour, and cleanliness, all the
Yahoos of his nation, although I seemed to
fail in strength and agility, which must be
imputed to my different way of living from
those other brutes; and besides I was not
only endowed with the faculty of speech,
but likewise with some rudiments of reason, to a degree that with all his acquaintance I passed for a prodigy.'
He made me observe, that among the
Houyhnhnms, the white, the sorrel, and the
iron-gray, were not so exactly shaped as
the bay, the dapple-gray, and the black ;
nor born with equal talents of mind, or a
capacity to improve them; and therefore
continued always in the condition of servants, without ever aspiring to match
out of their own race, which in that country would be reckoned monstrous and unnatural.'
I made his honour my most humble acknowledgments for the good opinion he
was pleased to conceive of me; but assured
him at the same time, that my birth was
of the lower sort, having been born of
plain honest parents, who were just able to
give me a tolerable education : that nobility, among us, was altogether a different
thing from the idea he had of it; that our
young noblemen are bred from their child-

hood in idleness and luxury; that as soon
as years will permit, they consume their
vigour, and contract odious diseases among
lewd females; and when their fortunes
are almost ruined, they marry some woman
of mean birth, disagreeable person, and
unsound constitution (merely for the sake
of money), whom they hate and despise.
That the productions of such marriages
are generally scrofulous, rickety, or deformed children; by which means the
family seldom continues above three generations, unless the wife takes care to provide a healthy father, among her neighbours or domestics, in order to improve
and continue the breed. That a weak
diseased body, a meagre countenance, and
sallow complexion, are the true marks of noble blood; and a healthy robust appearance
is so disgraceful in a man of quality, that
the world concludes his real father to have
been a groom or a coachman. The imperfections of his mind run parallel with those
of his body, being a composition of spleen,
dullness, ignorance, caprice, sensuality,
and pride.
' Without the consent of this illustrious
body, no law can be enacted, repealed, or
altered : and these nobles have likewise the
decision of all pur possessions, without appeal.'

CHAPTER VII.
The Author's great love of his native coun.
try. His master's observations upon the
constitution and administration of England, as described by the Author, with
parallel cases and comparisons. His
master's observations upon human nature.
THE reader may be disposed to wonder
how I could prevail on myself to give so
free a representation of my own species,
among a race of mortals who are already
too apt to conceive the vilest opinion of
humankind, from that entire congruity
between me and their Yahoos. But I must
freely confess, that the many virtues of
those excellent quadrupeds, placed in opposite view to human corruptions, had so
far opened my eyes and enlarged my understanding, that I began to view the actions and passions of man in a very diffb.
rent light, and to think the honour of my
own kind not worth managing; which,
besides, it was impossible for me to do,
before a person of so acute a judgment as
my master, who daily convinced me of a
thousand faults in myself, whereof I had
not the least perception before, and which,
with us, would never be numbered even
among human infirmities. I had likewise
learned, from his example, an utter detestation of all falsehood or disguise ; and
trutn appeared so amiable to me, that I
determined upon sacrificing every thing
to it.
Let me deal so candidly with the reader
as to confess that there was yet a much
stronger motive for the freedom I took in

A VOYAGE TO THE HOUYHNHNMS.
my representation of things. I had not
yet been a year in this country before I
contracted such a love and veneration for
the inhabitants, that I entered on a firm
resolution never to return to humankind,
but to pass the rest of my life among the
admirable Houyhnhnms, in the contemplation and practice of every virtue; where I
could have no example or incitement to
vice. But it was decreed by fortune, my
perpetual enemy, that so great a felicity
slhould not fall to my share. However, it
is now some comfort to reflect, that in
what I said of my countrymen, 1 extenuated their faults as much as I durst before so strict an examiner;. and upon
every article gave as favourable a turn as
the matter would bear. For, indeed, who
is there alive that will not be swayed by
his bias and partiality to the place of his
birth ?
I have related the substance of several
conversations I had with my master, during the greatest part of the time I had the
honour to be in his service; but have, indeed, for brevity sake, omitted much more
than is here set down.
When I had answered all his questions,
and his curiosity seemed to be fully satisfied,
he sent for me one morning early, and commanded me to sit down at some distance
(an honour which he had never before
conferred upon me).
He said, 'he had
been very seriously considering my whole
story, as far as it related both to myself
and my country: that he looked upon us
as a sort of animals, to whose share, by
what accident he could not conjecture,
some small pittance of reason had fallen,
whereof we made no other use, than by its
assistance to aggravate our natural. corruptions, and to acquire new ones, which
nature had not given us; that we disarmed ourselves of the few abilities she had
bestowed ; had been very successful in
multiplying our original wants, and seemed
to spend our whole lives in vain endeayours to supply them by our own inventions. That as to myself, it was manifest I
had neither the strength nor agility of a
common Yahoo ; that I walked infirmly
on my hinder feet; had found out a contrivance to make my claws of no use or
defence, and to remove the hair from my
chin, which was intended as a shelter from
the sun and the weather. Lastly, that I
could neither run with speed, nor climb
trees like my brethren,' as hie called them,
' the Yahoos in his country.
That our institutions of government
and law were plainly owing to our gross
defects in reason, and by consequence in
virtue; because reason alone is sufficient
to govern a rational creature; which was
therefore a character we had no pretence
to challenge, even from the account 1 had
givesn of my own people; although hlie
manifestly perceived, that, in order to
favour them, I had concealed many particulars, and often said the thing which was not.
'He was the more confirmed in this
opinion, because he observed, that as I
agreed in every feature of my body with

89

other Yahoos, except where it was to my
real disadvantage in point of strength,
speed, and activity, the shortness of my
claws, and some other particulars where
nature had no part; so from the representation I had given him of our lives, our
manners, and our actions, he found as near
a resemblance in the disposition of our
minds.' He said, ' the Yaoos were known
to hate one another, more than they did
any different species of animals; and the
reason usually assigned was, the odiousness
of their own shapes, which all could see in
the rest, but not in themselves. He had
therefore begun to think it not unwise in us
to cover our bodies, and by that invention
conceal many of our deformities from each
other, which would else be hardly supportable. Buthenowfoundhehadbeenmistaken,
and that the dissensions of those brutes in
his country were owing to the same cause
with ours, as I had described them. For
if,' said he, 'you throw among five Yahoos
as much food as would be sufficient for
fifty, they will, instead of eating peaceably,
fall together by the ears, each single one
impatient to have all to itself; and therefore a servant was usually employed to
stand by while they were feeding abroad,
and those kept at home were tied at a distance from each other : that if a cow died
of age or accident, before a Houyhnhnm
could secure it for his own Yahoos, those
in the neighbourhood would come in herds
to seize it, and then would ensue such a
-battle as I had described, with terrible
wounds made by their claws on both sides,
although they seldom were able to kill one
another, for want of such convenient instruments of death as we had invented.
At other times, the like battles have been
fought between the Yahoos of several
neighbourhoods, without any visible cause;
those of one district watching all opportunities to surprise the next, before they are
prepared. But if they find their project
has miscarried, they return home, and, for
want of enemies, engage in what I call a
civil war among themselves.
That in some fields of his country there
are certain shining stones of several colours, whereof the Yahoos are violently
fond: and when part of these stones is
fixed in the earth, as it sometimes happens,
they will dig with their claws for whole
days to get them out; then carry them
away, and hide them by heaps in their kennels; but still looking round with great
caution, for fear their comrades should
find out their treasure.' My master said,
' he never could discover the reason of
this unnatural appetite, or how these stones
could be of any use to a Yahoo ; but now
he believed it might proceed from the same
principle of avarice which I had ascribed
to mankind. '[That he had once, by way
of experiment, privately removed a heapl
of these stones from the place where one
of his Yahoos had buried it; whereupon
the sordid animal, missing his treasure,
by his loud lamenting brought the whole
herd to the place, there miserably howled,
then feU to biting and tearing the rest;

'

90

GULLIVER S TRAVELS.

began to pine away, would neither eat, nor
sleep, nor work, till he ordered a servant
privately to convey the stones into the
same hole, and hide them as before;
which, when his Yahoo had found, he
presently recovered his spirits and good
humour, but took good care to remove
them to a better hiding place, and has ever
since been a very serviceable brute.'
My master further assured me, which I
also observed myself, ' that in the fields
where the shining stones abound, the fiercest and most frequent battles are fought,
occasioned by perpetual inroads of the
neighbouring Yahoos.'
He said, ' it was common, when two Yahoos discovered such a stone in a field, and
were contending which of them should be
the proprietor, a third would take the advantage, and carry it away from them
both;' which my master would needs contend to have some kind of resemblance with
our suits at law ; wherein I thought it for
our credit not to undeceive him; since the
decision he mentioned was much more
equitable than many decrees among us:
because the plaintiff and defendant there
lost nothing beside the stone they contended for: whereas our courts of equity
would never have dismissed the cause,
while either of them had any thing left.
My master, continuing his discourse,
said, 'there was nothing that rendered the
Yahoos more odious, than their undistinguishing appetite to devour every thing
that came in their way, whether herbs,
roots, berries, the corrupted flesh of animals, or all mingled together: and it was
peculiar in their temper, that they were
fonder of what they could get by rapine or
stealth, at a greater distance, than much
better food provided for them at home. If
their prey held out, they would eat till
they were ready to burst; after which,
nature had pointed out to them a certain
root that gave them a general evacuation.
' There was also another kind of root,
very juicy, but somewhat rare and difficult
to be found, which the Yahoos sought for
with much eagerness, and would suck it
with great delight; it produced in them
the same effects that wine has upon us. It
would make them sometimes hug, and
sometimes tear one another; they would
howl, and grin, and chatter, and reel, and
tumble, and then fall asleep in the mud.'
I did indeed observe that the Yahoos
were the only animals in this country subject to Any diseases; which, however,
were much fewer than horses have among
us, and contracted not by any ill treatment
they meet with, but by the nastiness and
greediness of that sordid brute. Neither
as their language any more than a gene.
ral appellation for those maladies, which is
borrowed from the name of the beast, and
called hnea yahoo, or Yahoo's evil; and the
cure prescribed is a mixture of their own
dung and urine, forcibly put down the Ya.hoo's throat. This I have since often
known to have been taken with success,
and do here freely recommend it to my

countrymen for the public good, as an ad.
mirable specific against all diseases produced by repletion.
' As to learning, government, arts,
manufactures, and the like,' my master
confessed, 'he could find little or no resemblance between the Yahoos of that
country and those in ours. For he only
meant to observe what parity there was in
our natures. He had heard, indeed, some
curious Houyhnhnms observe, that in most.
herds there was a sort of ruling Yahoo (as
among us there is generally some leading
or principal stag in a park), who was always more deformed in body, and mis.
chievous in disposition, than any of the
rest. That this leader had usually a favourite as like himself as he could get,
whose employment was to lick his master's
feet and posteriors, and drive the female
Yahoos to his kennel ;* for which he was
now and then rewarded with a piece of
ass's flesh. 'This favourite is hated by the
whole herd, and therefore, to protect himself, keeps always near the person of his
leader. He usually continues in office till
a worse can be found; but the very moment he is discarded, his successor, at the
head of all the Yahoos in that district,
young and old, male and female, come in a
body, and discharge their excrements upon
him from head to foot. But how far this
might be applicable to our courts, and favourites, and ministers of state, my master
said I could best determine.'
I durst make no return to this malicious
insinuation, which debased human understanding below the sagacity of a common
hound, who has judgment enough to distinguish and follow the cry of the ablest
dog in the pack, without being ever mistaken.
My master told me, 'there were some
qualities remarkable in the Yahoos, which
he had not observe( :ne to mention, or at
least very slightly, in the accounts I had
given of humankind.'
He said, ' those
animals, like other brutes, had their females
in common; but in this they differed, that
the she Yahoo would adi. t the males
while she was pregnant; and that the hes
would quarrel and fight with the females,
as fiercely as with each other; both which
practices were such degrees of infamous
brutality, as no other sensitive creature
ever arrived at.
'Another thing he wondered at in the
Yahoos, was their strange disposition to
nastiness and dirt; whereas there appears
to be a natural love of cleanliness in all
other animals.' As to the two former accusations, I was glad to let them pass without any reply, because I had not a word to
offer upon them in defence of my species,
which otherwise I certainly had done from
my own inclinations. But I could have
easily vindicated humankind from the imputation of singularity upon the last article,
if there had been any swine in that country (as unluckily for me there were not),
which, although it may be a sweeter quad.
Flattery and pimping.-H.

A VOYAGE TO THE HOUYHNHNMS.

91

to myself and my countrymen; and I believed I could yet make further discoveries,
from my own observation. I therefore often begged his honour to let me go among
the herds of Yahoos in the neighbourhood;
to which he always very graciously consented, being perfectly convinced that the
hatred I bore these brutes would never suf.
fer me to be corrupted by them; and his
honour ordered one of his servants, a
strong sorrel nag, very honest and goodnatured, to be my guard; without whose
protection I durst not undertake such adventures. For I have already told the
reader how much I was pestered by these
odious animals, upon my first arrival; and
I afterwards failed very narrowly three or
four times of falling into their clutches,
when I happened to stray at any distance
without my hanger. And I have reason to
believe they had some imagination that I
was of their own species, which I often assisted myself by stripping up my sleeves,
and showing my naked arms and breasts
in their sight, when my protector was with
me. At which times they would approach
as near as they durst, and imitate my actions after the manner of monkeys, but
ever with great signs of hatred; as a tame
jackdaw with cap and stockings is always
persecuted by the wild ones, when he happens to be got among them,
They are prodigiously nimble from their
infancy. However, I once caught a young
male of three years old, and endeavoured,
by all marks of tenderness, to make it
quiet; but the little imp fell a squalling,
and scratching, and biting with such violence, that I was forced to let it go; and it
was high time, for a whole troop of old
ones came about us at the noise, but finding the cub was safe (for away it ran), and
my sorrel nag being by, they durst not
venture near us. I observed the young
animal's flesh to smell very rank, and the
stink was somewhat between a weasel and
a fox, but much more disagreeable. I
forgot another circumstance (and perhaps
I might have the reader's pardon if it were
wholly omitted), that while I held the
odious vermin in my hands, it voided its
filthy excrements of a yellow liquid substance all over my clothes; but by good
fortune there was a small brook hard by,
where I washed myself as clean as 1could;
although I durst not come into my master's presence until I were sufficiently
aired.
By what I could discover, the Yahoos appear to be the most unteachable of all animals : their capacity never reaching higher than to draw or carry burdens. Yet I
am of opinion, this defect arises chiefly
CHAPTER VIII.
relates
The uthorseveral partilars of from a perverse, restiff disposition. For

ruped than a Yahoo, cannot, I humbly conceive, in justice, pretend to more cleanliness; and so his honour himself must
have owned, if he had seen their filthyway
of feeding, and their custom of wallowing
and sleeping in mud.
My master likewise mentioned another
quality, which his servants had discovered
in several Yahoos, and to him was wholly
unaccountable. He said, a fancy would
sometimes take a Yahoo to retire into a
corner, to lie down, and howl, and groan,
and spurn away all that came near him,
although he were young and fat, wanted
neither food nor water, nor did the servant
imagine what could possibly ail him. And
the only remedy they found was, to set
him to hard work, after which he would
infallibly come to himself.' To this I was
silent out of partiality to my own kind;
yet here I could plainly discover the true
seeds of spleen, which only seizes on the
lazy, the luxurious, and the rich; who,
if they were forced to undergo the same
regimen, I would undertake for the cure.
His honour had further observed, 'that
a female Yahoo would often stand behind
a bank or a bush, to gaze on the young
males passing by, and then appear, and
hide, using many antic gestures and grimaces, at which time it was observed that she
had a most offensive smell; and when any
of the males advanced, would slowly retire,
looking often back, and with a counterfeit
show of fear, run off into some convenient
place, where she knew the male would follow her.
' At other times, if a female stranger
came among them, three or four of her
own sex would get about her, and stare,
and chatter, and grin, and smell her all
over; and then turn off with gestures, that
seemed to express contempt and disdain.'
Perhaps my master might refine a little
in these speculations, which he had drawn
from what he observed himself, or had
been told him by others; however, I could
not reflect without some amazement, and
much sorrow, that the radiments of lewdness, coquetry, censure, and scandal, should
have place by instinct in womankind.
I expected every moment that my master would accuse the Yahoos of those unnatural appetites in both sexes, so common
among us. But Nature, it seems, has not
been so expert a school-mistress; and these
politer pleasures are entirely the productions of Art and Reason on our side of the
globe.

the

Therelates several particulars of
Author

they are cunning, malicious, treacherous,

Yahoos. The great virtues of the and revengeful. They are strong and
Houyhnhnms. The education andexercise hardy, but of a cowardly spirit, and by
of theiryouth. Their general assembly. consequence insolent, abject, and cruel
It is observed, that the red haired of both
As I ought to have understood human na. sexes are more libidinous and mischievous
than I supposed it pos- than the rest, whom yet they much exceed
sure much better
eible for my master to do, so it was easy to in strength and activity.
The Houyhhnnms keep the Yahoos for
apply the character he gave of the Yahoos

92

GULLIVER'S TRAVELS

present use in huts not far from the house ;
but the rest are sent abroad to certain
fields, where they dig up roots, eat several
kinds of herbs, and search about for carrion, or sometimes catch weasels and luhsmuhs (a sort of wild rat), which they
greedily devour. Nature has taught them
to dig deep holes with their nails on the
side of a rising ground, wherein they lie by
themselves; only the kennels of the females are larger, sufficient to hold two or
three cubs.
They swim from their infancy like frogs,
and are able to continue long under water,
where they often take fish, which the females carry home to their young. And,
upon this occasion, 1 hope the reader will
Pardon my relating an odd adventure.
Being one day abroad with my protector
the sorrel nag, and the weather exceeding
hot, I entreated him to let me bathe in a
river that was near. He consented, and I
immediately stripped myself stark naked,
and went down softly into the stream. It
happened that a young female Yahoo,
etanding behind a bank, saw the whole
proceeding, and inflamed by desire, as the
nag and I conjectured, came running with
all speed, and leaped into the water, within
five yards of the place where I bathed. I
was never in my life so terribly frightened.
The nag was grazing at some distance, not
suspecting any harm. She embraced me
after a most fulsome manner. I roared as
loud as I could, and the nag came galloping towards me, whereupon she quitted
her grasp, with the utmost reluctancy, and
leaped upon the opposite bank, where she
stood gazing and howling all the time I
was putting on my clothes.
This was a matter of diversion to my
master and his family, as well as of mortification to myself. For now I could no
longer deny that I was a real Yahoo in
every limb and feature, since the females
had a natural propensity to me, as one of
their own species; neither was the hair of
this brute of a red colour (which might
have been some excuse for an appetite a
little irregular), but black as a sloe, and
her countenance did not make an appearance altogether so hideous as the rest of
her kind; for I think she could not be
above eleven years old.
Having lived three years in this country,
the reader I suppose will expect that I
should, like other travellers, give him some
account of the manners and customs of its
inhabitants, which it was indeed my principal study to learn,
As these noble Houyhnhknms are endowed by nature with a general disposition to
all virtues, and have no conceptions or
ideas of what is evil in a rational creature;
so their grand maxim is, to cultivate reason,
and to be wholly governed by it. Neither
is reason among them a point problematical, as with us, where men can argue with
plausibility on both sides of the question;
but strikes you with immediate conviction;
as it must needs do, where it is not mingled, obscured, or discoloured, by passion
and interest. I remember it was with ex-

treme difficulty that I could bring my
master to understand the meaning of the
word opinion, or how a point could be disputable; because reason taught us to affirm or deny only where we are certain;
and beyond our knowledge we cannot do
either. So that controversies, wrangiings,
disputes, and positiveness, in false or dubious propositions, are evils unknown
among the Houlhnhkms. In the like manner, when 1 used to explain to him our several systems of natural philosophy, lie
would laugh, that a creature pretending to
reason, should value itself upon the knowledge of other people's conjectures, and it
things where that knowledge, if it were
certain, could be of no use.' Wherein he
agreed entirely with the sentiments of Socrates, as Plato delivers them; which I
mention as the highest honour I can do
that prince of philosophers. I have often
since reflected, what destruction such doctrine would make in the libraries of Eu.
rope; and how many paths of fame would
be then shut up in the learned world.
Friendship and benevolence are the two
principal virtues among the Houyhnknm ,
and these not confined to particular object,
but universal to the whole race. For a
stranger from the remotest part is equally
treated with the nearest neighbour; and
wherever he goes, looks upon himself as at
home. They preserve decency and civility
in the highest degrees, but are altogether
ignorant of ceremony. They have no
fondness for their colts or foals, but the
care they take in educating them proceeds
entirely from the dictates of reason. And
I observed my master to show the same affection to his neighbour's issue, that he
had for his own. They will have it that
nature teaches them to love the whole species, and it is reason only that makes a distinction of persons, where there is a supe.
rior degree of virtue.
When the matron Houyhnhams have
produced one of each sex, they no longer
accompany with their consorts, except they
lose one of their issue by some casualty,
which very seldom happens; but in such
a case they meet again ; or when the like
accident befalls a person whose wife is past
bearing, some other couple bestow on him
one of their own colts, and then go together
again un;til the mother is pregnant. This
caution is necessary, to prevent the country from being overburdened with nunmbers. But the race of inferior Houyhi/hms,
bred up to be servants, is not so strictly
limited upon this article; these are allowed to produce three of each sex, to be
domestics in the noble families.
in their marriages, they are exactly care
ful to choose such colours as will not make
any disagreeable mixture in the breed.
Strength is chiefly valued in the male, and
comeliness in the female; not upon the account of love, but to preserve the race
from degenerating; for where a female
happens to excel in strength, a consort is
chosen, with regard to comeliness.
Courtship, love, p-esents, jointures, settlements have no place in their thoughts,

A VOYAGE TO THE HOUYHNHNMS.
or terms whereby to express them in their
language. The young couple meet, and
are joined, merely because it is the determination of their parents and friends ; it is
what they see done every day, and they
look upon it as one of the necessary actions
of a reasonable being. But the violation
of marriage, or any other unchastity, was
never heard of, and the married pair pass
their lives with the same friendship and
mutual benevolence, that they bear to all
others of the same species who come in
their way; without jealousy, fondness,
quarrelling, or discontent.
In educating the youth of both sexes,
their method is admirable, and highly deserves our imitation. These are not suffered to taste a grain of oats, except upon
certain days, till eighteen years old; nor
milk, but very rarely; and in summer they
graze two hours in the morning, and as
many in the evening, which their parents
likewise observe; but the servants are not
allowed above half that time, and a great
part of their grass is brought home, which
they eat at the most convenient hours,
when they can be best spared from work.
Temperance, industry, exercise, and
cleanliness, are the lessons equally enjoined
to the young ones of both sexes: and my
master thought it monstrous in us, to give
the females a different kind of education
from the males, except in some articles of
domestic management; whereby, as he
truly observed, one half of our natives
were good for nothing but bringing children into the world: and to trust the care
of our children to such useless animals, he
said, was yet a greater instance of bru.
tality.
But the Houyhnhnms train up their youth
to strength, speed, and hardiness, by exercising them in running races up and down
steep hills, and over hard stony grounds;
and when they are all ina sweat, they are
ordered to leap over head and ears into a
pond or river. Four times a year the
youth of a certain district meet to show
their proficiency in running and leaping,
and other feats of strength and agility;
where the victor is rewarded with a song
in his or her praise. On this festival, the
servants drive a herd of Yahoosinto the
field, laden with hay, and oats, and milk,
for a repast to the Houyhnhnms; after
which, these brutes are immediately driven
back again, for fear of being noisome to
the assembly.
Every fourth year, at the vernal equinox,
there is a representative council of the
whole nation, which meets in a plain about
twenty miles from our house, and continues about five or six days. Here they
inquire into the state and condition of the
several districts; whether they abound or
be deficient in hay or oats, or cows, or Yahoos and wherever there is any want
;
(which is but seldom) it is immediately
supplied by unanimous consent and contribution. Here likewise the regulation of
children is settled : as for instance, if a
Houyhnhanm has two males, he changes one
of them with another that has two females:

93

and when a child has been lost by any
casualty, where the mother is past breeding, is determined what family in the
it
district shall breed another to supply the
loss.

CHAPTER IX.
A grand debate at the general assembly cy
the Houyhnhnms, and how it was determined. The learongof the Houyhnhnms.
Their buildings. Their manner of burials. The defe tiveness of their language.
ONE of these grand assemblies was held in
mray
time, aboutthree months before my
departure, whither my master went as the
representative of our district. In this
council was resumed their old debate, and
indeed the only debate that ever happened
in their country; whereof my master, after
his return, give me a very particular account.
The question to be debated was, 'whether the Yahoos should be exterminated
from the face of the earth ?' One of the
members for the affirmative offered several
arguments of great strength and weight,
alleging, 'that as the Yahoos were the
most filthy, noisome, and deformed animal
which nature ever produced, so they were
the most restiffand indocible, mischievous
and malicious; they would privately suck
the teats of the Houghnhnms' cows, kill
and devour their cats, trample down their
oats and grass, if they were not continually
watched, and commit a thousand other extravagancies.' He took notice of a general tradition, 'that Yahooshad not been
always in their country; but that many
ages ago, two of these brutes appeared to.
gether upon a mountain; whether produced by the heat of the sun upon corrupt.
ed mud and slime, or from the ooze and
froth of the sea, was never known: that
these Yahoos engendered, and their brood,
in a short time, grew so numerous as to
overrun and infest the whole nation; that
the Houyhnhnms, to get rid of this evil,
made a general hunting, and at last en.
closed the whole herd; and destroying the
elder, every Houyhnhnm kept two young
ones in a kennel, and brought them to such
a degree of tameness, as an animal, so savage by nature, can be capable of acquiring; using them for draught and carriage : that there seemed to be much truth
in this tradition, and that those creatures
could not be ylnhniamshy (or aborigines of
the land), because of the violent hatred the
Houyhnhnms, as well as all other animals,
bore them, which, although their evil disposition sufficiently deserved, could never
have arrived at so high a degree, if they
had been aborigines; or else they would
have long since been rooted out: that the
inhabitants, taking a fancy to use the service of the Yahoos, had very imprudently
neglected to cultivate the breed of assee,
which are a comely animal, easily kept,
more tame and orderly, without any offe.
U

94

GULLIVER'S TRAVELS.

The Houyhnhnms have no letters, and
sive smell; strong enough for labour, although they yield to the other in agility of consequently their knowledge is all tradi.
body; and if their braying be no agreeable tional. But there happening few events of
sound, it is far preferable to the horrible any moment among a people so well united, naturally disposed to every virtue,
howlings of the Yahoos.
Several others declared their sentiments wholly governed by reason, and cut off
to the same purpose, when my master pro- from all commerce with other nations;
posed an expedient to the assembly, the historical part is easily preserved withwhereof he had indeed borrowed the hint out burdening their memories. I have
from me. ' He approved of the tradition already observed, that they are subject to
mentioned by the honourable member who no diseases, and therefore can have no
spoke before, and affirmed, that the two need of physicians. However, they have
Yahoos said to be seen first among them, excellent medicines, composed of herbs, to
had been driven thither over the sea; that cure accidental bruises and cuts in the pascoming to land, and being forsaken by their tern or frog of the foot, by sharp stones, as
companions, they retired to the moun- well as other maims and hurts in the se.
tains, and degenerating by degrees, became veral parts of the body.
They calculate the year by the revoluin process of time much more savage than
those of their own species in the country tion of the sun and moon, but use no
whence these two originals came. The subdivisions into weeks. They are well
reason of this assertion was, that he had enough acquainted with the motions of
now in his possession a certain wonderful those two luminaries, and understand the
Yahoo (meaning myself) which most of nature of eglipses; and this is the utmost
and many of them had progress of their astronomy.
them had heard of,
In poetry, they must be allowed to excel
seen. He then related to them how he
first found me; that my body was all co- all other mortals; wherein the justness of
vered with an artificial composure of the their similes, and the minuteness as well
skins and hairs of other animals: that I as exactness of their descriptions, are inspoke in a language of my own, and had deed inimitable. Their verses abound
thoroughly learned theirs; that I had re- very much in both of these, and usually
lated to him the accidents which brought contain either some exalted notions, of
me thither; that when he saw me without friendship and benevolence, or the praises
my covering, I was an exact Yahoo in of those who were victors in races and
every part, only of a whiter colour, less other bodily exercises. Their buildings,
hairy, and with shorter claws. He added, although very rude and simple, are not inhow I had endeavoured to persuade him, convenient, but well contrived to defend
that in my own and other countries, the them from all injuries of cold and heat.
Yahoos acted as the governing, rational ani- They have a kind of tree, which at forty
mal, and held the Houyhnhnms in servi- years old loosens in the root, and falls with
tude; that he observed in me all the quali- the first storm; it grows very straight, and
ties of a Yahoo, only a little more civilised being pointed like stakes with a sharp
by some tincture of reason, which, how- stone (for the Houyhnhnms know not the
ever, was in a degree as far inferior to the use of iron), they stick them erect in the
Jlouyhnhnm race, as the Yahoos of their ground, about ten inches asunder, and
country were to me: that among other then weave in oat straw, or sometimes
things, I mentioned a custom we had of wattles, between them. The roof is made
castrating Houyhnhnms when they were after the same manner, and so are the
young, in order to render them tame; doors.
The Houyhnhnms use the hollow part,
that the operation was easy and safe;
that it was no shame to learn wisdom from between the pastern and the hoof of their
brutes, as industry is taught by the ant, fore-foot, as we do our hands, and this
and building by the swallow (for so I tran- with greater dexterity than I could at first
although it be a imagine. I have seen a white mare of our
slate the word lyhannh,
much larger fowl); that this invention family thread a needle ( which I lent her
might be practised upon the younger Ya- on purpose) with that joint. They milk
hoos here, which besides rendering them their cows, reap their oats, and do all the
tractable and fitter for use, would in an age work which requires hands, in the same
put an end to the whole species, without manner. They have a kind of hard flints,
destroying life: that in the mean time the which, by grinding against other stones,
flouyhnhms should be exhorted to cultivate they form into instruments, that serve inthe breed of asses, which as they are in stead of wedges, axes, and hammers.
all respects more valuable brutes, so they With tools made of these flints, they likehave this advantage, ta be fit for service wise cut their lay, and reap their oat.
at five years old, which the others are not which there grow naturally in several
till twelve.'
fields; the Yahoos draw home the sheaves
This was all my master thought fit to in carriages, and the servants tread them
tell me, at that time, of what passed in in certain covered huts to get out the
the grand council. But he was pleased to grain, which is kept in stores. They make
conceal one particular, which related per- a rude kind of earthen and wooden vessels,
sonally to myself, whereof I soon felt the and bake the former in the sun.
unhappy effect, as the reader will know in
If they can avoid casualties, they die
its proper place, and whence I date all the only of old age, and are buried in the obsucceeding misfortunes of my life.
scurest places that can be found, their

A VOYAGE TO THE HOUYHNHNMS.
friends and relations expressing neither
joy nor grief at their departure; nor does
the dying person discover the least regret
that he is leaving the world, any more
than if he were upon returning home from
a visit to one of his neighbours. I remember my master having once made an
appointment with a friend and his family
to come to his house, upon some affair of
importance: on the day fixed, the mistress and her two children came very late ;
she made two excuses, first for her husband, who, as she said, happened that very
morning to lhnuwnh. The word is strongly expressive in their language, but not.
easily rendered into English; it signifies,
'to retire to his first mother.' Her excuse
for not coming sooner, was, that her husband dying late in the morning, she was a
good while consulting her servants about a
convenient place where his body should be
laid; and I observed, she behaved herself
at our house as cheerfully as the rest : she
died about three months after.
They live generally to seventy, or seventy-five years, very seldom to fourscore:
some weeks before their death, they feel a
gradual decay; but without pain. During
this time they are much visited by their
friends, because they cannot go abroad
with their usual ease and satisfaction.
However, about ten days before their
death, which they seldom fail in computing, they return the visits that have been
made them by those who are nearest in the
neighbourhood, being carried in a convenient sledge drawn by Yahoos ; which vehicle they use, not only upon this occasion,
but when they grow old, upon long journeys, or when they are lamed by any accident : and therefore when the dying
Houyhnhnms return those visits, they take
a solemn leave of their friends, as if they
were going to some remote part of the
country, where they designed to pass the
rest of their lives.
I know not whether it may be worth observing, that the Houyhnhnms have no
word in their language to express any
thing that is evil, except what they borrow
from the deformities or ill qualities of the
Yahoos. Thus they denote the folly of a
servant, an omission of a child, a stone
that cuts their feet, a continuance of foul
or unseasonable weather, and the like, by
adding to each the epithet of Yahoo. For
instance, hhnm Yahoo ; whnaholm Yahoo,
ynl/mndwi/lma Yahoo, and an ill-contrived
house ynholmhnmrohlnw Yahoo.
I could, with great pleasure, enlarge fiurther upon the manners and virtues of this
excellent people; but intending in a short
time topublish a volume by itself, expressly
upon that subject, I refer the reader thither; and, in the mean time, proceed to
relate my own sad catastrophe.

CHAPTER X.
Author's economy, and happy ljfe,
amongtthe Houyhnhntm. His great isn.

The

95

provement in virtue by conversing with
t/en. Their conversations. The Author
has notice given him by his master, that
he must depart from the country. He
falls into a swoon for grief; but submits.
He contrives and finishes a canoe by the
help of a fellow-servant, andputs to sea
at a venture.
I HADsettled my little economy to my own
heart's content. My master had ordered a
room to be made for me, after their manner, about six yards from the house: the
sides and floors of which I plastered with
clay, and covered with rush-mats of my
own contriving; I had beaten hemp,
which there grows wild, and made of it a
sort of ticking; this I filled with the fea.
thers of several birds I had taken with
springes made of Yahoos' hairs, and were
excellent food. I had worked two chairs
with my knife, the sorrel nag helping me
in the grosser and more laborious part.
When my clothes were worn to rags, I
made myself others with the skins of rabbits, and of a certain beautiful animaj,
about the same size, called nnuhnoh, the
skin of which is covered with a fine down.
Of these I also made very tolerable stockings. I soled my shoes with wood, which
1 cut from a tree, and fitted to the upper.
leather; and when this was worn out, I
supplied it with the skins of Yahoos dried
in the sun. I often gdt honey out of hollow trees, which I mingled with water, or
ate with my bread. No man could more
verify the truth of these two maxims,
'That nature is very easily satisfied ;' and,
' That necessity is the mother of inven..
tion.' I enjoyed perfect health of body,
and tranquillity of mind; I did not feel
the treachery or inconstancy of a friend,
nor the injuries of a secret or open enemy.
I had no occasion of bribing, flattering, or
pimping, to procure the favour of any
great man, or of his minion. I wanted no
fence against fraud or oppression: here
was neither physician to destroy my body,
nor lawyer to ruin my fortune; no informer to watch my words and actions, or
forge accusations against me for hire : here
were no gibers, censurers, backbiters, pickpockets, highwaymen, housebreakers, at.
torneys, bawds, buffoons, gamesters, politicians, wits, splenetics, tedious talkers, con.
trovertists, ravishers, murderers, robbers,
virtuosos; no leaders, or followers, oi
party and faction; no encouragers to vice,
by seducement or examples; no dungeon,
axes, gibbets, whipping-posts, or pillories;
no cheating shopkeepers or mechanics; no
pride, vanity, or affectation; no fops, bullies, drunkards, strolling whores, or poxes;
no ranting, lewd, expensive wives; no stu-

*

oIt shoulId be,--and 'which' were excellent
food. This sentence is faulty in other respects;
but there, as well as in many other passages ai
these Voyages, the author has intentionally made
use of inaccurate expression, and studied negligence, in order to make the style more like that
a seafaring man : on which account they hare
been passed over in silence, where such intenti
was obvious.-S.

of

u2

96

'GULLIVER'S TRAVELS.

pid, proud pedants; no importunate, over.
bearing, quarrelsome, noisy,
roaring,
empty, conceited, swearing companions;
no scoundrels raised from the dust upon
the merit of their vices, or nobility thrown
into it on account of their virtues; no
lords, fiddlers, judges, or dancing-masters.
I had the favour of being admitted to several Houyhnhnms, who came to visit or
dine with my master; where his honour
graciously suffered me to wait in the room,
and listen to their discourse. Both he and
his company would often descend to ask
me questions, and receive my answers. I
had also sometimes the honour of attending my master in his visits to others. I
pnever presumed to speak, except in answer
to a question; and then I did it with inregret, because it was a loss of so
much time for improving myself; but I
was infinitely delighted with the station of
an humble auditor in such conversations,
where nothing passed but what was useful,
expressed in the fewest and most significant words : where, as I have already said,
the greatest decency was observed, without
the least degree of ceremony; where no
person spoke without being pleased himself, and pleasing his companions; where
there was no interruption, tediousness,
heat, or difference of sentiments. They
have a notion, that when people are met
together, a short silence does much improve conversation: this I found to be
true; for during those little intermissions
of talk, new ideas would arise in their
minds, which very much enlivened the
discourse. Their subjects are generally on
friendship and benevolence, on order and
economy ; sometimes upon the visible operations of nature, or ancient traditions;
upon the bounds and limits of virtue; upon
the unerring rules of reason, or upon some
determinations to be taken at the next
great assembly: and often upon the various excellences of poetry. I may add,
without vanity, that my presence often
gave them sufficient matter for discourse,
secause it afforded my master an occasion
of letting his friends into the history of me
and my country, upon which they were all
pleased to descant, in a manner not very
advantageous to humankind: and for that
reason I shall not repeat what they said;
only 1 may be allowed to observe, that his
honour, to my great admiration, appeared
to understand the nature of Yahoos much
better than myself. He went through all
our vices and follies, and discovered many,
which I had never mentioned to him, by
only supposing what qualities a Yahoo of
their country, with a small proportion of
reason, might be capable of exerting; and
concluded, with too much probability,
Show vile as well as miserable such a crealt must be.'
ure
1 freely confess, that all the little knowledge I have of any value, was acquired by
the lectures I received from my master,
and from hearing the discourses of him
anid his friends; to which I should be
prouder o listen, than to dictate tothe greatest and wisest assembly in Europe. I ad.

ward

mired the strength, comeliness, and speed
of the inhabitants; and such a constellation of virtues, in such amiable persons,
produced in me the highest veneration.
At first, indeed, I did not feel that natural
awe, which the Yahoos and all other animals bear toward them; but it grew upon
me by degrees, much sooner than I ima.
gined, and was mingled with a respectful
love and gratitude, that they would condescend to distinguish me from the rest of
my species.
When I thought of my family, my
friends, my countrymen, or the human
race in general, I considered them, as they
really were, Yahoos in shape and disposi
tion, perhaps a little more civilized, and
qualified with the gift of speech; but
making no other use of reason, than to
improve and multiply those vices, whereof
their brethren in this country had only the
share that nature allotted them. When
I happened to behold the reflection of my
own form in a lake or fountain, I turned
away my face in horror and detestation of
myself; and could better endure the sight
of a common Yahoo, than of my own per.
son. By conversing with the Houyhnhnm$,
and looking upon them with delight, I fell
to imitate their gait and gesture, which is
now grown into a habit; and my friends
often tell me, in a blunt way, ' that I trot
like a horse;' which, however, I take for
a great compliment : neither shall I disown, that in speaking I am apt to fall into
the voice and manners of theHouyhnhnms,
and hear myself ridiculed on that account,
without the least mortification.
In the midst of all this happiness, and
when I looked upon myself to be fully settied for life, my master sent for me one
morning a little earlier than his usual
hour. I observed by his countenance that
he was in some perplexity, and at a loss
how to begin what be had to speak. After
a short silence, he told me - he did not
know how I would take what he was going
to say : that in the last general assembly,
when the affair of the Yahoos was entered
upon, the representatives had taken offence
at his keeping a Yahoo (meaning myself)
in his family, more like a Houyhhnm than
a brute animal; that he was known frequently to converse with me, as if hecould
receive some advantage or pleasure in my
company; that such a practice was not
agreeable to reason or nature, or a thing
ever heard of before among them; the
assembly did therefore exhort him either
to employ me like the rest of my species,
or command me to swim back to the place
whence I came: that the first of these ex.
pedients was utterly rejected by all the
Houyhhnms who had ever seen me at his
house or their own; for they alleged, that
because I had some rudiments of reason,
added to the natural gravity of those animals, it was to be feared I might be able
to seduce them into the woody and moun.
tainous parts of the country, and bring
them in troops by night to destroy the
Houhnhnms' cattle, as being naturally of
the ravenous kind, and aversefrom labour.'

& VOYAGE TO TH E HOUYHNHNMS.
NyI master added, ' that he was daily
presed by the Houyhnhnnms of the neighbourhood, to have the assembly's exhortation executed, which he could not put off
much longer. He doubted it would be
impossible for me to swim to another country; and therefore wished I would contrive some sort of vehicle, resembling those
I had described to him, that might carry
me on the sea; in which work I shoull
have the assistance of his own servants, as
well as those of his neighbours.' He con-.
eluded, 'that for his own part, he could
have been content to keep me in his ser-vice as long as 1 lived; because he found 1
had cured myself of some bad habits and
dispositions, by endeavouring as far as my
inferior nature was capable, to imitate the
Houyhnhnms.'
I should here observe to the reader, that
a decree of the general assembly in this
country, is expressed by the word hnhloayn,
which signifies an exhortation, as near as
I can render it: for they have no conception how a rational creature can be com.
pelled, but only advised, or exhorted; because no person can disobey reason, without giving up his claim to be a rational
creature.
I was struck with the utmost grief and
despair at my master's discourse; and being unable to support the agonies I was
under, I fell 'into a swoon at his feet
When I came to myself, he told me ' that,
he concluded I had been dead:' for these
people are subject to no such imbecilities of
nature. I answered in a faint voice, 'that
death would have been too great a happiness: that although I could not blame the
assembly's exhortation, or the urgency of
his friends; yet, in my weak and corrupt
judgment, I thought it might consist with
reason to have been less rigorous: that I
could not swim a league, and probably the
nearest land to theirs might be distant
above a hundred : that many materials,
necessary for making a small vessel to
carry me off, were wholly wanting in this
country; which, however, I would attempt, in obedience and gratitude to his
honour, although I concluded the thing to
be impossible, and therefore looked on myself as already devoted to destruction :
that the certain prospect of an unnatural
death was the least of my evils; for,
supposing 1 should escape with life by some
strange adventure, how could I think with
temper of passing my days among Yahoos,
and relapsing into my old corruptions, for
want of examples to lead and keep me
within the paths of virtue; that I knew
too well upon what solid reasons all the
determinations of the wise Houyhnhknms
were founded, not to be shaken by arguments of mine, a miserable Yahoo; and
therefore, after presenting him with my
humble thanks for the offer of his servants'
assistance in making a vessel, and desiring
a reasonable time for so difficult a work, I
told him I would endeavour to preserve a
wretched being; and if ever I returned to
England, was not without hopes of being
useful to my own species, by celebrating

97

the praises of the renowned Haulhnmnms,
and proposing their virtues to the imitation
of mankind.'
My master, in a few words, made me a
very gracious reply; allowed me the space
of two months to finish my boat; and ordered the sorrel nag, my fellow-servant
(for so at this distance I may presume to
call him), to follow my instruction; because I told my master, ' that his help
would be sufficient, and I knew he had a
tenderness for me.'
In his company, my first business was to
go to that part of the coast where my rebellious crew had ordered me to be set on
shore. I'got upon a height, and looking
on every side into the sea, fancied I saw a
small island toward the north east; I took
out my pocket glass, and could then clearly
distinguish it above five leagues off, as I
computed; but it appeared to the sorrel
nag to be only a blue cloud : for as he had
no conception of any country beside his
own, so he could not be as expert in distinguishing remote objects at sea, as we who
so much converse in that element.
After 1 had discovered this island, I con
sidered no further; but resolved it should
if possible, be the first place of my ban
ishment, leaving the consequence to for
tune.
I returned home, and consulting with
the sorrel nag, we went into a copse at
some distance, where I with my knife, and
.ie with a sharp flint, fastened very artificially after their manner to a wooden ham
die, cut down several oak wattles, about
the thickness of a walking-staff, and some
larger pieces. But I shall not trouble the
reader with a particular description of my
own mechanics; let it suffice to say, that
in six weeks' time, with the help of the
sorrel nag, who performed the parts that
required most labour, I finished a sort of
Indian canoe, but much larger, covering it
wivAlh skins of Yahoos, well stitched tothe
gether with hempen threads of my own
making. My sail was likewise composed of
the skins of the same animal ; but I made
use of the youngest I could get, the older
being too tough and thick; and I likewise
provided myself with four paddles. I laid
in a stock of boiled flesh, of rabbits and
fowls, and took with me two vessels, one
filled with milk
the other with water.
I tried my canoe in a large pond, near
my master's house, and then corrected in
it what was amiss; stopping all the chinks
with Yahoos' tallow, till I found it staunch,
and able to bear me and my freight; and,
when it was as complete as I could possibly make it, I had it drawn on a carriage
very gently by Yahoos to the sea-side, under
the conduct of the sorrel nag and another
servant.
When all was ready, and the day came
for my departure, I took leave of my master and lady and the whole family,
my eyes flowing with tears, and my heart
quite sunk with grief. But his honour,
out of curiosity, and perhaps (if I may
speak it without vanity) partly out of kind-

I

and

98

GULLIVER S TRAVELS.

ness, was determined to see me in my tinued there several weeks without know
canoe; and got several of his neighbouring ( ing what course we took; and hen I was
friends to accompany him. I was forced to put ashore in the long-boat, how the sailors
wait above an hour for the tide, and then told me with oaths, whether true or false,
observing the wind very fortunately bear- ' that they knew not in what part of the
ing toward the island to which I intended world we were.' However, I did then be.
to steer my course, I took a second leave lieve us to be about 10 degress southward
of my master: but as I was going to pro- of the Cape of Good Hope, or about 45
strate myself to kiss his hoof, he did me degrees southern latitude, as I gathered
the honour to raise it gently to my mouth., from some general words I overheard
I am not ignorant how much 1 have been among them, being I supposedto the southcensured for mentioning this last particu- east in their intended voyage to Madagaslar Detractors are pleased to think it im- car. And although this were little better
probable, that so illustrious a person than conjecture, yet I resolved to steer my
should descend to give o great a mark of course eastward, hopingto reach the south.
distinction to a creature so inferior as I. welt coast of New Holland, and perhaps
Neither have I forgotten how apt some some such island as I desired lying westtravellers are to boast of extraordinary fa- ward of it. Thewind was full west, and by
yours they have received. But, if these six in the evening I computed I had gone
censurers were better acquainted with the eastward at least eighteen leagues ; when I
noble and courteous disposition of the spied avery small island about half a league
Rouyhnhnms, they would soon change their off, which I soon reached. It was nothing
opinion,
but a rock, with one creek naturally arched
I paid my respects to the rest of the by the force of tempests. Here I put in my
Houyhnnms in his honour's company ; canoe, and climbing a part of the rock, I
then getting into my canoe, I pushed off could plainly discover land to the east, ex.
from shore.
tending from south to north. I lay all
night in my canoe; and repeating my voy----age early in the morning, I arrived in
seven hours to the south-east point of New
CHAPTER XI.
Holland. This confirmed me in the opinion I have long entertained, that the maps
The Author's dangerousvoyage. He arrives and charts place this country at least three
at New Holland, hoping to settle there. Is degrees more to the east than it really is ;
wounded with an arrow btj one of the Ia- which thought I communicated many
tives. Is seized and carried by force into years ago to my worthy friend, Mr. Hera Portugueseship. The great civilities of man Moll, and gave him my reasons for
the captain. The Author arrivesat Eng- it, although he has rather chosen to follow
land.
other authors.
I saw no inhabitants in the place where
I BEGAN
this desperate voyage on Febru- I landed, and being unarmed, I was afraid
ary 15, 1714-15, at nine o'clock in the of venturing far into the country. I found
morning. The wind was very favourable; ome shellfish on the shore, and ate them
however, I made use at first only of my raw, not daring to kindle a fire, for tear ut
paddles; but considering I should soon be being discovered by the natives. I con.
weary, and that the wind might chop tinued three days feeding on oysters and
about, I ventured to set up ny little sail; limpets, to save my own provision; and I
and thus, with the help of the tide, I went fortunately found a brook of excellent waat the rate of a league and a half an hour, ter, which gave me great relief.
as near as I could guess. My master and
On the fourth day, venturing out early a
his friends continued on the shore till I little too far, I saw twenty or thirty nawas almost out of sight; and I often heard tives upon a height not above five hundred
the sorrel nag (who always loved me) cry- yards from me. They were stark naked,
sOg out, ' Hnusy illa nsyka majak Yahoo ' men, women, and children, round a fire, as
Take care of thyself, gentle Yahoo.
could discover by the smoke. One of
My design was, if possible, to discover them spied me, and gave notice to the
some small island uninhabited, yet suffi- rest; five of them advanced toward me,
eient by my labour to furnish me with the leaving the women and children at the fire,
necessaries of life, which I would have I made what haste I could to the shore,
thought a greater happiness, than to be and, getting into my canoe, shoved off:
first minister in the politest court of Eu. the savages, observing me retreat, ran
rope ; so horrible was the idea I conceived after me : and before I could get far
of returning to live in the society, and enough into the sea, discharged an arrow
under the government of Yakoos. For in which wounded me deeply on the inside o:
such a solitude as I desired, 1 could at my left knee: I shall carry the mark to
least enjoy my own thoughts, and reflect my grave. 1 apprehended the arrow might
with delight on the virtues of those inimi- be poisoned, and paddling out of the reach
table Houyhnhnms, without an opportunity of their darts (being a calm day), I made a
of degenerating into the vices and corrup shift to suck the wound, and dress it as
lions of my own species.
well as I could.
The reader may remember what I re.
I was at p loss what to do, for I durst not
lated, when my crew conspired against me, return to the same landing-place, but stood
and confined me to my cabin; how I con to the north, and was forced to paddle; for

%

X

A VOYAGE TO THE HOUYHNHNMS.
the wind, though very gentle, was against
me, blowing north-west. As I was looking about for a secure landing-place, I saw
a sail to the north-north-east, which appearing every minute more visible, I was
in some doubt whether I should wait for
them or not; but at last my detestation of
the Yahoo race prevailed : and turning my
canoe, I sailed and paddled towards the
south, and got into the same creek whence
I set out in the morning, choosing rather
to trust myself among these barbarians,
than live with European Yahoos. I drew
up my canoe as close as I could to the
shore, and hid myself behind a stone by
the little brook, which, as I have already
said, was excellent water.
The ship came within half a league of
this creek, and sent her long boat with
vessels to take in fresh water (for the place,
it seems, was very well known); but I did
not observe it, till the boat was almost on
shore ; and it was too late to seek another
hiding-place. The seamen at their landing
observed my canoe, and rummaging it all
over, easily conjectured that the owner
could not be far off. Four of them, well
armed, searched every cranny and lurking
hole, till at last they found me flat on my
face behind the stone. They gazed awhile
in admiration at my strange uncouth dress :
my coat made of skins, my wooden-soled
shoes, and my furred stockings; whence,
however, they concluded, I was not a native of the place, who all go naked. One
of the seamen, in Portuguese, bid me rise,
and asked who I was. I understood that
language very well, and getting upon my
feet, said, 'I was a poor Yahoo banished
from the Houyhnhnms, and desired they
would please to let me depart.' They ad.
mired to hear me answer them in their
own tongue, and saw by my complexion I
must be a European; but were at a loss
to know what I meant by Yahoos and
Houyhnhms; and at the same time fell alaughing at my strange tone in speaking,
which resembled the neighing of a horse.
I trembled all the while betwixt fear and
hatred. I again desired leave to depart,
and was gently moving to my canoe : but
they laid hold of me, desiring to know,
'what country I was of ? whence I came?'
with many other questions. I told them
'I was born in England, whence I came
about five years ago, and then their country and ours were at peace. I therefore
hoped they would not treat me as an enemy, since I meant them no harm; but
was a poor Yahoo seeking some desolate
place where to pass the remainder of his
unfortunate life.'
When they began to talk, I thought I
never heard or saw any thing more unnatural; for it appeared to me as monstrous
as if a dog or a cow should speak in England, or a Yahoo in Houyhnhnmland. The
honest Portuguese were equally amazed at
my strange dress, and the odd manner of
delivering my words, which however they
understood very wel. They spoke to me
with great humanity, and said, ' they were
sure the captain would carry me gratis to

99

Lisbon, whence I might return to my own
country; that two of the seamen would go
back to the ship, inform the captain of
what they had seen, and receive his orders; in the mean time, unless I would
give my solemn oath not to fly, they would
secure me by force.' I thought it best to
comply with their proposal. They were
very curious to know my story, but I gave
them very little satisfaction, and they all
conjectured that my misfortunes had impaired my reason. In two hours the boat,
which went loaden with vessels of water,
returned, with the captain's command to
fetch me on board. I fell on my knees to
preserve my liberty; but all was in vain ;
and the men, having tied me with cords,
heaved me into the boat, whence 1 was
taken into the ship, and thence into the
captain's cabin.
His name was Pedro de Mendez; he
was a very courteous and generous person.
He entreated me to give some account of
myself, and desired to know what I would
eat or drink; said, " I should be used as
well as himself ;' and spoke so many obliging things, that I wondered to find such
civilities from a Yahoo. However, 1 remained silent and sullen; I was ready to
faint at the very smell of him and his men.
At last I desired something to eat out of
my own canoe; but he ordered me a
chicken, and some excellent wine, and
then directed that I should be put to bed
in a very clean cabin. 1 would not undress
myself, but lay on the bed-clothes, and in
half an hour stole out, when I thought
the crew was at dinner, and getting to the
side of the ship, was going to leap into the
sea, and swim for my life, rather than
continue among Yahoos. But one of the
seamen prevented me, and having informed the captain, I was chained to my
cabin.
After dinner, Don Pedro came to me,
and desired to know my reason for so desperate an attempt; assured me, 'he only
meant to do me all the service he was
able;' and spoke so very movingly, that at
last I descended to treat him like an ani.
mal which had some little portion of reason. I gave him a very short relation of
my voyage; of the conspiracy against me
by my own men; of the country where
they set me on shore, and of my five years'
residence there; all which he looked upon
as if it were a dream or a vision; whereat
I took great offence; for I had quite forgot the faculty of lying, so peculiar to Yahoos, in all countries where they preside,
and, consequently, the disposition of suspecting truth in others of their own species. I asked him, 'whether it were the
custom in his country to say the thing
which was not?' I assured him, 'I had
almost forgot what he meant by falsehood,
and if 1 had lived a thousand years in
Houyhnhnmland, I should never have heard
a lie from the meanest servant; that I was
altogether indifferent whether he believed
me or not; but, however, in return foi his
favours, I would give so much allowance
to the corruption of his nature, as to an-

100

GULLIVER'S TRAVELS.

swer any objection he might please to
make, and then he might easily discover
the truth.'
The captain, a wise man, after many
endeavours to catch me tripping in some
part of my story, at last began to have a
better opinion of my veracity. But he
added, 'that since I professed so inviolable
an attachment to truth, I must give him
my word and honour to bear him company
in this voyage, without attempting any
thing against my life; or else he would
continue me a prisoner till we arrived at
Lisbon.' I gave him the promise he
r\equired; but at the same time protested,
'that I would suffer the greatest hardships,
rather than return to live among Yahoos.'
Our voyage passed without any considerable accident. In gratitude to the captain,
I sometimes sat with him at his earnest
request, and strove to conceal my antipathy against human kind, although it
often broke out; which he suffered to
pass without observation. But the greatest part of the day I confined myself to
my cabin, to avoid seeing any of the crew.
The captain had often entreated me to
strip myself of my savage dress, and offered
to lend me the best suit of clothes he had.
This I would not be prevailed on to accept,
abhorring to cover myself with any thing
that had been on the back of a Yahoo. 1
only desired he would lend me two clean
shirts, which, having been washed since
he wore them, I believed would not so
much defile me. These I changed every
second day, and washed them myself,
We arrived at Lisbon, Nov. 5, 1715. At
our landing, the captain forced me to cover myself with his cloak, to prevent the
rabble from crowding about me. I was
conveyed to his own house; and at my
earnest request he led me up to the highest room backwards. I conjured him to
conceal from all persons what I had told
him of the Houyhnhnms; because the
least hint of such a story would not only
draw numbers of people to see me, but
probably put me in danger of being imprisoned, or burnt by the inquisition.'
The captain persuaded me to accept a suit
of clothes newly made; but I would not
suffer the tailor to take my measure; however, Don Pedro being almost of my size,
they fitted me well enough. He accoutred
me with other necessaries, all new, which
I aired for twenty-four hours before I
would use them.
The captain had no wife, nor above three
servants, none of which were suffered to
attend at meals; and his whole deportment
was so obliging, added to very good human
dnderstanding, that I really began to tolerate his company. He gained so far upon
me, that 1 ventured to look out of the
back window. By degrees I was brought
Antoanother room, whence I peeped into
the street, but drew my head back in a
fright, lo a week's time he seduced me
down to the door. I found my terror
gradually lessened, but my hatred and contempt seemed to increase. I was at last
bold enough to walk the street in his com-

pany, but kept my nose well stopped with
rue, or sometimes with tobacco.
In ten days, Don Pedro, to whom I had
given some account of my domestic affairs,
put it upon me, as a matter of honour and
conscience, 'that I ought to return to my
native country, and live at home with my
wife and children.' He told me, 'there
was an English ship in the port just ready
to sail, and he would furnish me with all
things necessary.' It would be tedious to
repeat his arguments, and my contradic.
tions. He said, it was altogether impos.
sible to find such a solitary island as I de.
sired to live in; but I might command in
my own house, and pass my time in a man.
ner as recluse as I pleased.'
I complied at last, finding I could not
do better. I left Lisbon the 24th day of
November, in an English merchantman,
but who was the master I never inquired.
Don Pedro accompanied me to the ship,
and lent me twenty pounds. He took kind
leave of me, and embraced me at parting,
which I bore as well as I could. During
this last voyage I had no commerce with
the master or any of his men ; but, pretending I was sick, kept close in my cabin.
On the fifth of December, 1715, we cast
anchor in the Downs, about nine in the
morning, and at three in the afternoon I
got safe to my house at Redriff.
My wife and family received me with
great surprise and joy, because they concluded me certainly dead; but I must
freely confess the sight of them filled me
only with hatred, disgust, and contempt;
and the more, by reflecting on the near alliance I had to them. For although, since
my unfortunate exile from the Houyhnhnm
country, I had compelled myself to tolerate the sight of Yahoos, and to converse
with Don Pedro de Mendez, yet my memory and imagination were perpetually
filled with the virtues and ideas of those
exalted Houynhnms. And when I began
to consider that, by copulating with one
of the Yahoo species I had become a parent of more, it struck me with the utmost
shame, confusion, and horror.
As soon as I entered the house, my wife
took me in her arms, and kissed me; at
which, having not been used to the touch
of that odious animal for so many years, I
fell into a swoon for almost an hour. At
the time 1 am writing, it is five years since
my last return to England: during the
first year, I could not endure my wife or
children in my presence; the very smell of
them was intolerable; much less could I
suffer them to eat in the same room. To
this hour they dare not presume to touch
my bread, or drink out of the same cup,
neither was I ever able to let one of them
take me by the hand. The first money 1
laid out was to buy twoyoungstone-horses,
which I keep in a good stable; and next to
them, the groom is my greatest favourite;
for I feel my spirits revived by the smell
he contracts in the stable. My horses understand me tolerably well; I converse
with them at least four hours every day.
They are strangers to bridle or saddle-

A VOYAGE TO THE HOUYHNHNMS.
they live in great amity with me, and
friendship to each other.
CHAPTER XII.
The Author's veracity. His design in publishing this work. His censure of those
travellers who swerve from the truth.
The Author clears himselffrom any sinister ends in writing. An objection answered. The method of planting colonies.
His native country commended. The
right of the crown to those countries
described by the Author, is justified. The
difficulty of conqueringthem. The Author
takes his last leave of the reader; proposes
his manner of livingfor the juture; gives
good advice, and concludes.
Taus, gentle reader, I have given thee a
faithful history of my travels for sixteen
years and above seven months: wherein I
have not been so studious of ornament as
of truth. I could, perhaps, like others,
have astonished thee with strange improbable tales; but I rather chose to relate
plain matter of fact, in the simplest manner and style; because my principal design was to inform, and not to amuse thee.
It is easy for us who travel into remote
countries, which are seldom visited by
Englishmen or other Europeans, to form
descriptions of wonderful animals both at
sea and land. Whereas a traveller's chief
aim should be to make men wiser and better, and to improve their minds by the bad,
as well as good example, of what they deliver concerning foreign places.
I could heartily wish a law was enacted,
that every traveller, before he were permitted to publish his voyages, should be
obliged to make oath before the Lord High
Chancellor, that all he intended to print
was absolutely true to the best of his knowledge ; for then the world would no longer
be deceived, as it usually is, while some
writers, to make their works pass the better upon the public, impose the grossest
I have
falsities on the unwary reader.
perused several books of travels with great
delight in my younger days; but having
since gone over most parts of the globe,
and been able to contradict many fabulous
accounts from my own observation, it has
given me a great disgust against this part
of reading, and some indignation to see the
credulity of mankind so impudently abused. Therefore, since my acquaintance
were pleased to think my poor endeavours
might not be unacceptable to my country,
I imposed on myself as a inaxim never to
be swerved from, that I Mould strictly adhere to truth; neither indeed can I be ever
under the least temptation to vary from it,
while I retain in my mind the lectures and
example of my noble master and the other
illustrious Houyhnhnms of whom I had so
long the honour to be an humble hearer.
Nec si miserum Fortuna Sinomem
Finxit, vanum etiam, mendacemque i-.
robafingei

101

I know very well, how little reputation
is to be got by writings, which require neither genius nor learning, nor indeed any
other talent, except a good memory, or an
exact journal. I know likewise, that
writers of travels, like dictionary-makers,
are sunk into oblivion by the weight and
bulk of those who come last, and therefore
lie uppermost. And it is highly probable,
that such travellers, who shall hereafter
visit the countries described in this work
of mine, may, by detecting my errors (if
there be any), and adding many new discoveries of their own, justle me out of
vogue, and stand in my place, making the
world forget that ever I was an author.
This indeed would be too great a mortification, if I wrote for fame: but as my sole
intention was the public good, I cannot be
altogether disappointed. For who can
read of the virtues I have mentioned in
the glorious Houyhnhnms, without being
ashamed of his own vices, when he considers himself as the reasoning, governing
animal of his country ? I shall say nothing of those remote nations where Yahoos preside; among which the least corrupted are the Brobdingnagians; whose
wise maxims in morality and government
it would be our happiness to observe. But
I forbear descanting further, and rather
leave the judicious reader to his own remarks and application.
I am not a little pleased, that this work
of mine can possibly meet with no censurers: for what objections can be made
against a writer, who relates only plain
facts, that happened in such distant countries, where we have not the least interest, with respect either to trade or negotiations? I have carefully avoided every
fault, with which common writers of travels are often too justly charged. Besides,
I meddle not the least with any party, but
write without passion, prejudice, or ill-will
against any man, or number of men, whatsoever. I write for the noblest end, to inform
and instruct mankind; over whom I may,
without breach of modesty, pretend to
some superiority, from the advantages I
received by conversing so long among
the most accomplished Houyhihnms. I
write without any view to profit or praise.
I never suffer a word to pass that may
look like reflection, or possibly give the
least offence, even to those who are most
ready to take it. So that I hope I may
with justice pronounce myself an author
perfectly blameless; against whom the
tribes of Answerers, Considerers, Observers, Reflectors, Detectors, Remarkers,
will never be able to find matter for exercising their talents.
I confess, it was whispered to me, ' that
1 was bound in duty, as a subject of England, to have given in a memorial to a secretary of state at my first coming over ;
because, whatever lands are discovered by
a subject, belong to the crown.' But I
doubt, whether our conquests, in the countries I treat of, would be as easy as those
of Ferdinando Cortez over the naked
Americans. The Lilliputians, 1 think, aie

102

GULLIVER'S TRAVELS.

anardly worth the charge of a fleet and propagate Christianity; their caution in
army to reduce them; and I question stocking their provinces with people of sowhether it might be prudent or safe to at- ber lives and conversations from this the
tempt the Brobdingnagians; or whether an mother kingdom; their strict regard to the
English army would be much at their ease, distribution of justice, in supplying the
with the Flying Island over their heads. civil administration through all their coloThe Houyhnhnms indeed appear not to be nies with officers of the greatest abilities,
so well prepared for war, a science to which utter strangers to corruption; and, to
they are perfect strangers, and especially crown all, by sending the most vigilant and
against missive weapons. However, sup- virtuous governors, who have no other
posing myself to be a minister of state, I views than the happiness of the people
could never give my advice for invading over whom they preside, and the honour
them. Their prudence, unanimity, unac- of the king their master.
But as those countries, which I have
<luaintedness with fear, and their love of
their country, would amply supply all de- described, do not appear to have any defects in the military art. Imagine twenty sire of being conquered and enslaved,
thousand of them breaking into the midst murdered or driven out, by colonies; nor
of an European army, confounding the abound either in gold, silver, sugar or toranks, overturning the carriages, battering bacco; I did humbly conceive, they were
the warriors' faces into mummy by terrible by no means proper objects of our zeal, our
yerks from their hinder hoofs; for they valour, or our interest. However, if those
would well deserve the character given to whom it more concerns, think fit to be of
But, another opinion, I am ready to depose,
tutus.
Augustus, Recalcitrat undique
instead of proposals for conquering that when I shall be lawfully called, that no
magnanimous nation, I rather wish they European did ever visit those countries
were in a capacity, or disposition, to send before me. I mean, if the inhabitants
a sufficient number of their inhabitants ought to be believed, unless a dispute may
for civilizing Europe, by teaching us the arise concerning the two Yahoos, said to
first principles of honour, justice, truth, have been seen many years ago upon a
temperance, public spirit, fortitude, chas- mountain in Hougyhnhnmland.
But, as to the formality of taking postity, friendship, benevolence, and fidelity.
The names of all which virtues are still re- session in my sovereign's name, it never
tained among us in most languages, and came once into my thoughts; and if it
are to be met with in modern, as well as had, yet, as my aflairs then stood, I should
ancient authors; which I am able to as- perhaps, inpoint of prudence and self-preservation, have put it off to a better opporsert from my own small reading. "
But I had another reason, which made tunity.
Having thus answered the only objection
me less forward to enlarge his majesty's
dominions by my discoveries. To say the that can ever be raised against me as a
truth, I had conceived a few scruples with traveller, I here take a final leave of all
relation to the distributive justice of my courteous readers, and return to enjoy
princes upon those occasions. Forinstance, my own speculations in my little garden at
a crew of pirates are driven by a storm Redriff; to apply those excellent lessons of
they know not whither; at length a boy virtue, which 1 learned among the Houy.
discovers land from the topmast; they go hnhnms; to instruct the Yahoosof my
on shore to rob and plunder; they see a own family, as far as I shall find them
harmless people, are entertained with kind.- docible animals; to behold my figure often
ness; they give the country a new name ; in a glass, and thus, if possible, habituate
they take formal possession of it for their myself by time to tolerate the sight of a
king; they set up a rotten plank, or a human creature; to lament the brutality
stone, for a memorial; they murder two or of Houyghnhnms, in my own country, but
three dozen of the natives, bring away a always treat their persons with respect, for
couple more, by force, for a sample; re- the sake of my noble master, his family,
turn home, and get their pardon. Here his friends, and the whole Houyhnhnm
commences a new dominion acquired with race, whom these of ours have the honour
a title by divine right. Ships are sent to resemble in all their lineaments, howwith the first opportunity; the natives ever their intellectuals came to degenerate.
I began last week to permit my wife
driven out or destroyed; their princes
tortured to discover their gold; a free li- to sit at dinner with me, at the furthest
cense given to all acts of inhumanity and end of a long table; and to answer (but
lust, the earth reeking with the blood of with the utmost brevity) the few questions
4sinhabitants : and this execrable crew of I asked her. Yet, the smell of a Yahoo
butchers, employed in so pious an expedi. continuing very offensive, I always keep
tion, is a modern colony, sent to convert my nose well stopped with rue, lavender,
and civilize an idolatrous and barbarous or tobacco leaves. And, although it be
hard for a man late in life to remove old
people !
But this description, I confess, does by habits, I am not altogether out of hopes,
no means affect the British nation, who in some time, to suffer a neighbour Yahoo
may be an example tothe whole world for in my company, without the apprehensions
their wisdom, care, and justice in planting I am yet under of his teeth or his claws.
My reconcilement to the Yahoo kind in
colonies: their liberal endowments for the
advancement of religion and learning; general might not be so difficult, if they
their choice of devout and able pastors to would be content with those vices and foL

A VOYAGE TO THE HOUYHNHNMS.
lies only, which nature has entitled them
to. I am not in the least provoked at the
sight of a lawyer, a pickpocket, a colonel,
a fool, a lord, a gamester, a politician, a
whoremonger, a physician, an evidence, a
suborner, an attorney, a traitor, or the
like ; this is all according to the due course
of things: but when I behold a lump of
deformity and diseases, both in body and
mind, smitten with pride, it immediately
breaks all the measures of my patience;
neither shall I be ever able to comprehend
how such an animal, and such a vice, could
tally together. The wise and virtuous
Houyhnhnms, who abound in all excellences that can adorn a rational creature,
have no name for this vice in their language; which has no terms to express any
thing that is evil, except those whereby
they describe the detestable qualities of
heir Yahoos ; among which they were not

103

able to distinguish this of pride, for want
of thoroughly understanding human nature, as it shows itself in other countries
where that animal presides. But I, who
had more experience, could plainly observe
some rudiments of it among the wild Yahoos.
But the Houyhnhnms, who live under
the government of reason, are no more
proud of the good qualities they possess,
than I should be for not wanting a leg or
an arm; which no man in his wits would
boast of, although he must be miserable
without them. I dwell the longer upon
this subject from the desire I have to make
the society of an English Yahoo by any
means not insupportable; and therefore I
here entreat those, who have any tincture
of this absurd vice, that they will not pre
sume to coinme my sight.
in

A

SENTIMENTAL JOURNEY
THROUGH

FRANCE AND ITALY
By LAURENCE

TFEY order, said I, this matter bet-ter in France-You have been in France ? said my
gentleman, turning quick upon me, with
the most ci- tl triumph in the world.Strange, quoth I, debating the matter with
myself, that one and twenty miles sailing,
for 'tis absolutely no further from Dover
to Calais, should give a man these rightsI'll look into them : so giving up the argument-I went straight to my lodgings, put
up half a dozen shirts and a black pair of
silk breeches-" the coat I have on," said
I, looking at the sleeve, "will do"-took
a place in the Dover stage; and the
packet sailing at nine the next morningby three I had got sat down to my dinner
upon a fricaieed chicken, so incontestably
in France, that had I died that night of an
indigestion, the whole world could not
have suspended the effects of the droit
shirts, 'andblack pair of
d'aubaine
silk breeches-portmanteau and all must
have gone to the King of France-even
the little picture which I have so long
qorn, and so often have told thee, Eliza, I
would carry with me into my grave,
would have been torn from my neck.-Ungenerous ! to seize upon the wreck of an
unwary passenger, whom your subjects
had beckoned to their coast-by heaven,
Sire, it is not well done; and much does
it grieve me, 'tis the monarch of a people
so civilized and courteous, and so renowned for sentiment and fine feelings, that I
have to reason withBut I have scarce set a foot in your dominions-

*-my

* All the effects of strangers (Swiss and Scots
excepted dying in France, are seized by virtue of
this slaw,
though the heir be upon the spot-the proitof those contingencies being farmed, there is no

redress.

STERNE.

CALAIS.
When I had finished my dinner, and drank
the King of France's health, to satisfy my
mind that I bore him no spleen, but, on
the contrary, high honour for the humanity of his temper-I rose up an inch
taller for the accommodation.
said I, the Bourbon is by no
-No,
means a cruel race: they may be misled,
like other people; but there is a mildness
in their blood. As I acknowledged this,
I felt a suffusion of a finer kind upon my
cheek, more warm and friendly to man,
than what Burgundy (at least of two livres
a bottle, which was such as I had been
drinking) could have produced.
Just God! said I, kicking my portmanteau aside, what is there in this world's
goods which should sharpen our spirits,
and make so many kind-hearted brethren
of us fall out so cruelly as we do by the
way?
When man is at peace with man, how
much lighter than a feather is the heaviest
of metals in his hand ! he pulls out his
purse, and holding it airily and uncompressed, looks round him, as if he sought
for an object to share it with-In doing
this, I felt every vessel in my frame dilateeeaalLcheerily together, and
the arter
every power wFich sustained life, performould
ed it with _aQ]itITfritiiThetla'_
have ciifounded the most pjF cal priecieuse in France : with aler iimaterialism,
she could scarce have caled ie "a mamelIsod
ai
chinfdn
-r
I'm confident, said I to myself, I should
have overset her creed.
The accession

of that idea carried na-

ture, at that time, as high as she could
o-I
was at peace with the world before
g
tis fluped th te with mefo.
and this finished the treaty with myself--

2

A SENTIMENTAL JOURNEY

Now, was I King of France, cried Iwhat a moment for an orphan to have
begged his father's portmanteau of me!
THE MONK.
Calais.
I HAD scarce uttered the words, when a
poor monk of the order of St. Francis
came into the room to beg something for
his convent. No man cares to have his
virtues the sport of contingencies-or one
man may be generous, as another is puissant-sed non, quo ad hanc-or be it as it
may-for there is no regular reasoning
upon the ebbs and ,flows of our humours;
they may depend upon the same courses,
for aught I know, which influence the
tides themselves--'twould oft be no discredit to us, to suppose it was so: I'm sure at
least for myself, that in many a case I
should be more highly satisfied, to have it
said by the world, "I hd had an affairwith
the moon, in which there was ne
r sin
nor s me;"'hi~aT
ieit
passailtogether
as my own act and deed, wherein there
was so much of both.
-But be this as it may. The moment I
cast my eyes upon him, I was predetermined not to give him a single sous; and
accordingly 1 put my purse into my
pocket-buttoned it up-set myself a little
more upon my centre, and advanced up
gravely to him; there was something, I
fear, forbidding in my look : I have his
figure this moment before my eyes, and
think there was that in it which deserved
better.
The monk, as I judged from the break
in his tonsure, a few scattered white hairs
upon his temples, being all that remained
of it, might be about seventy; but from
hiseyes, and that sort of fire which was in
them, which seemed more tempered by
courtesy than years, could be no more
than sixty-Truth might lie between-He
was certainly sixty-five; and the general
air of his countenance, notwithstanding
something seemed to have been planting
wrinkles in it before their time, agreed to
the account,
It was one of those heads which Guido
has often painted-mild, pale-penetrating,
free from all commonplace ideas of fat,
contented ignorance looking downwards
upon the earth-it looked forwards; but
looked as if itlooked at something beyond
this world. How one of his order came
by it, heaven above, who let it fall upon a
monk's shoulders, best knows : but it
would have suited a Bramin, and had I
met it upon the plains of Indostan, I had
reverenced it.
The rest of his outline may be given in
a few strokes; one might put it into the
hands of any one to design, for 'twas neither
elegant nor otherwise, but as character and expression made it so: it was a
thin, spare form, something above the
common size, if it lost not the distinction
by a bend forward in the figure-but it was
the attitude of entreaty; and, as it now

stands presented to my imagination, it
gained more than it lo by it.
st
When he had ent ered the room three
paces, he stood still; and laying his left
hand upon his breast a slender white staf
with which he jour neyed being in his
right)-when I had ot close up to him,
he introduced himself with the little story
of the wants of his convent, and the poverty of his order-and did it with so sire.
plea grace-and suct h an air of deprecation was there in the whole cast of his look
and figure-I was be witchdd not to have
been struck with it.
A better reason was, I had predeter,
mined not to give him a single sous.
THE N [ONK.
Cal

ais.

-'Ts very true, said I, replying to a cast
upwards with his eyes, with which he had
concluded his address -'tis very true-and
heaven be their res ource who have no
other but the charit y of the world, the
stock of which, I fea, , is no way sufficient
for the many great cla which are houraims
ly made upon it.
As I pronounced th e words greatclaims,
he gave a slight glanc e with his eye downwards upon the sleeve of his tunick-1 felt
the full force of the appeal-I acknowledge
it, said I-a coarse habit, and that but
once in three years, with meagre dietare no great matters ; and the true point
of pity is, as they ca n be earn'd in the
world with so little industry, that your
order should wish t o procure them by
pressing upon a fund which is the property
of the lame, the blin d, the aged and the
infirm-the captive w ho lies down counting over and over a gain the days of his
afflictions, languishes also for his share of
it; and had you be ,en of the order o
mercy, instead of the order of St. Francis,
poor as I am, continu ed I, pointing at my
portmanteau, full che erfully should it have
been open'd to you, for the ransom of the
unfortunate.-Themo nk made me a bowbut of all others, resu med I, the unfortunate of our own coun try, surely, have the
first rights: and I ha ve left thousands in
distress upon our ow n shore.-The monk
gave a cordial wave with his head-as
much as to say, No d oubt there is misery
enough in every con ner of the world, as
well as within our con vent-But we distinguish, said I, laying my hand upon the
sleeve of his tunick, i n return for his ap.
peal-we distinguish, my good father ! be.twixt those who wish only to eat the bread
of their own labour- and those who eat
the bread of other pe ople's, and have no
other plan in life, but to get through it in
sloth and ignorance,. for the love of God.
The poor Francisca a made no reply; a
hectic of a momen t passed across his
cheek, but could not t arry-Nature seemed
to have had done with her resentments in
him ;-he showed n one-but letting his
staff within his ar m, he pressed both
fall

THROUGH FRA NCE AND ITALY.
his hands with resignation upon his breast,
and retired.
THE MONK.
Calais.
My heart smote me the moment he shut
the door-Psha! said I, with an air of
carelessness, three several times-but it
would not do: every ungracious syllable I
had uttered crowded back into my imagination : I reflected, I had no right over
the poor Franciscan, but to deny him; and
that the punishment of that was enough
to the disappointed without the addition of
unkind language-I considered his gray
hairs-his courteous figure seemed to reenter and gently ask me what injury he
had done me ?-and why I could use him
thus-I would have given twenty livres for
an advocate-I have behaved very ill, said
I within myself; but I have only just set
out upon my travels; and shall learn better manners as I get along.
THE DESOBLIGEANT.
Calais.
When a man is discontented with himself,
it has one advantage however, that it puts
him into an excellent frame of mind for
making a bargain. Now there being no
travelling through France and Italy without a chaise-and Naturegenerallyprompting us to the thing we are fittest for, I
walked out into the coach yard to buy or
hire something of that kind to my purpose;
an old Desobligeant
in the furthest corner of the court, hit my fancy at first sight,
so I instantly got into it, and finding it in
tolerable harmony with my feelings, I ordered the waiter to call Monsieur Dessein,
the master of the hotel-but Monsieur
Dessein being gone to vespers, and not
caring to face the Franciscan, whom I saw
on the opposite side of the court, in conference with a lady just arrived at the innI drew the taffeta curtain betwixt us, and
being determined to write my journey, I
took out my pen and ink, and wrote the
preface to it in the-M-sobligeant.

*

PREFACE.
In the Disobligeant.
IT must have been observed by many a
peripatetic philosopher, that nature has set
up by her own unquestionable authority
certain boundaries and fences to circumscribe the discontent of man; she has effected her purpose in the quietest and
easiest manner by laying him under almost
insuperable obligations to work out his
ease, and to sustain his sufferings at home.
It is there only that she has provided him
with the most suitable objects to partake
of his happiness, and bear a part of that
" A chaise, so called in France, from holding
its
but one person.

B

burden which in all countries and ages has
ever been too heavy for one pair of shoulders. 'Tis true, we are endued with an imperfect power of spreading our happiness
sometimes beyond her limits, but 'tis so ordered, that from the want of languages,
connexions, rand dependencies, and from
the differences in education, customs, and
habits, we lie under so many impediments
in communicating our sensations out of our
own sphere, as often amount to a total impossibility.
It will always follow from hence, that
the balance of sentimental commerce is
always against the expatriated adventurer;
he must buy what he has little occasion
for, at their own price-his conversation
will seldom be taken in exchange for theirs
without a large discount-and this, by the
by, eternally driving him into the hands of
more equitable brokers, for such conversation as he can find, it requires no great
spirit of divination to guess at his partyThis brings me to my point; and naturally leads me (if the seesaw of this Dsobligeant will but let me get on) into the
efficient as well as final causes of travelingYour idle people that leave their native
country, and go abroad for some reason or
reasons which may be derived from one of
these general causesInfirmity of body,
Imbecility of mind, or
Inevitable necessity.
The two first include all those who travel
by land or by water, labouring with pride,
curiosity, vanity, or spleen, subdivided and
combined infinitumn.
The third class includes the whole army
of peregrine martyrs; more especially
those travellers who set out upon their
travels with the benefit of the clergy,
either as delinquents travelling under the
direction of governors recommended by
the magistrate--or younggentlemen transported by the cruelty of prents and guardians, and travelling under the direction of
governors recommended by Oxford, Aberdeen, and Glasgow.
There is a fourth class, but their number
is so small that they would not deserve a
distinction, were it not necessary in a work
of this nature to observe the greatest precision and nicety, to avoid a confusion
of character. And these men I speak of,
are such as cross the seas and sojourn in a
land of strangers, with a view of saving
money for various reasons and upon va.
rious pretences: but as they might also
save themselves and others a great deal of
unnecessary trouble by saving their money
at home-and as :their reasons foi travelling are the least complex of any other
species of emigrants, I shall distinguish
these gentlemen by the name of
Simple Travellers.
Thus the whole circle of travellers may
be reduced to the following Heads:
Idle Travellers,
Inquisitive Travellers,
Lying
Travellers,
Proud Travellers,

A SENTIMENTAL JOURNEY
Vain Travellers,
Splenetic Travellers.
Then follow :
The Travellers of Necessity,
The Delinquent and Felonious Traveller,
The Unfortunate and Innocent Traveller,
The Simple Traveller.
And last of all (if you please) The Sentimental Traveller (meaning thereby myself)
who have travelled, and of which I am
now sitting down to give an account-as
much out of Necessity, and the besoin de
Voyager, as any one in the class.
I am well aware, at the same time, as
both my travels and observations will be
altogether of a different cast from any of
my forerunners, that I might have insisted
upon a whole nitch entirely to myself-but
I should break in upon the confines of the
Vain Traveller, in wishing to draw attention towards me, till I have some better
rounds for it than the mere Novelty of my
Vehicle.
It is sufficient for my reader, if he has
been a traveller himself, that with study
and reflection hereupon he may be able to
determine his own place and rank in the
catalogue-it will be one step towards
knowing himself; as it is great odds but he
retains some tincture and resemblance, of
what he imbibed or carried out, to the present hour.
The man who first transplanted the
grape of Burgundy to the Cape of Good
Hope (observe he was a Dutchman) never
dreamed of drinking the same wine at the
Cape, that the same grape produced upon
the French mountains-e was too phlegmatic for that-but undoubtedly he expected to drink some sort of vineous liquor; but whether good, bad, or indifferent, he knew enough of this world to know,
that it did not depend upon his choice, but
that what is generally called chance, was
to decide his success: however, he hoped
for the best ; and in these hopes, by an intemperate confidence in the fortitude of his
head, and the depth of his discretion,
Mynheer might possibly overset both in his
new vineyard ; and by discovering his nakedness, become a laughing stock to his
people.
SEven so it fares with the Poor Traveller,
sailing and posting through the politer
kingdoms of the globe in pursuit of knowledge and improvements.
Knowledge and improvements are to be
got by sailing and posting for that purpose ;
but whether useful knowledge and real improvements is all a lottery-and even where
the adventurer is successful, the acquired
stock must be used with caution and sobriety to turn to any profit-but as the
chances run prodigiously the other way,
both as to the acquisition and application,
I am of opinion, That a man would act as
wisely, if he could prevail upon himself to
live contented without foreign knowledge
or foreign improvements, especially if he
lives in a country that has no absolute want
of either-and indeed, much grief of heart
bas it oft and many a time cost me, when
I have observed how many a foul step the

Inquisitive Traveller has measured to see
sights and look into discoveries; all which,
as Sancho Panca said to Don Quixote, they
might have seen dryshod at home. It
is an age so full of light, that there is
scarce a country or corner in Europe
whose beams are not crossed and intermusic in an Italian street, whereof those
may partake who pay nothing-But there
is no nation under heaven-and God is my
record (before whose tribunal I must one
day come and give an account of this
work)-that I do not speak it vauntinglyBut there is no nation under heaven
abounding with more variety of learningwhere the sciences may be more fitly
wooed, or more surely won, than herewhere art is encouraged. and will so soon
rise high-where Nature (take her altogether) has so little to answer for-and, to
close all, character
riety of where therefeed the mind and vato is more wit with-Where then, my dear countrymen, are you
goingWe are only looking at this chaise, said
they-Your most obedient servant, said I,
skipping out of it, and pulling offmy hatWe were wondering, said one of them,
who, I found was an Inquisitive Traveller,
-what could occasion its motion.-Twas
the agitation, said 1, coolly, of writing a
preface.-I never heard, said the other,
who was a Simple Traveller, of a preface
wrote in a Desobligeant.-It would have
been better said I, in a Vis-a.Vis.
-As an Englishman does not travel to
see Englishmen, I retired to my room.
CALAIS.
I aeC
EiVaD that something darkened the
passage more than myself, as I stepped
along it to my room ; it was effectually
Monsieur Dessein, the master of the hotel,
who had just returned from vespers, and
with his hat under his arm, was most complaisantly following me, to put me in mind
of my wants. I had wrote myself pretty
well out of conceit with the Desobligeant;
and Monsieur Dessein speaking of it with
a shrug, as if it would no way suit me, it
immediately struck my fancy that it belonged to some Innocent Traveller, who, on
his return home, had left it to Monsieur
Dessein's honour to make the most of:
Four months had elapsed since it had
finished its career of Europe in the corner
of Monsieur Dessein's coach-yard; and
having sallied out from thence but a vamptup business at the first, though it had been
twice taken to pieces on, Mount Sennis, it
had not profited much by its adventuresbut by none so little as the standing so
many months unpitied in the corner of
Monsieur Dessein's coach-yard.
Much
indeed was not to be said for it-but something might- and when a few words will
rescue misery out of her distress, I hate
the man who can be a churl of them.
-Now was I the master of-this hotel,
said I, laying the point of my fore-finger

THROUGH FRANCE AND ITALY.
on Monsieur Dessein's breast, I would
inevitably make a point of getting rid of
this unfortunate Desobligeant-it stands
swinging reproaches at you every time you
pass by it.
Mon Dieu! said Monsieur Dessein, I
have no interest-Except the interest, said
I, which men of a certain turn of mind
take, Monsieur Dessein, in their own sensations -- I'm persuaded, to a man who
feels for others as well as for himself, every
rainy night, disguise it as you will, must
cast a damp upon your spirits--You sutfr,
Monsieur Dessein, as much as the machineI have always observed, when there is asl
much sour as sweet in a compliment, that.
an Englishman is eternally at a loss within
himself, whether to take it, or let it alone;
a Frenchman never is: Monsieur Dessein
made me a bow.
C'est bien vrai, said he-But in this case
I should only exchange one disquietude
for another, and with loss : figure to yourself, my dear Sir, that in giving you a
chaise which would fall to pieces before
you had got half way to Paris-figure to
yourself how much I should suffer, in
giving an ill impression of myself to a man
of honour, and lying at the mercy, as I
must do, d'un homme d'esprit.
The dose was made up exactly after my
own prescription; so I could not help
taking it-and returning Monsieur Dessein
his bow, without more casuistry we walked
together towards his Remise, to take a
view of his magazine of chaises.

had followed us unperceived-Heaven for.
bid, indeed ! said I, offering her my ownshe had a black pair of silk gloves open
only at the thumb and two fore-fingers, so
accepted it without reserve-and I led her
up to the door of the Remise.
Monsieur Dessein had diabled the key
above fifty times before he had found out
he had come with a wrong one in his hand:
we were as impatient as himself to have it
opened; and so attentive to the obstacle,
that I continued holding her hand almost
without knowing it : so that Monsieur
Dessein left us together with her hand in
mine, and with our faces turned towards
the door of the Remise, and said he would
be back in five minutes.
Now a colloquy of five minutes, in such
a situation, is worth one of as many ages,
with your faces turned towards the street:
in the latter case, 'tis drawn from the objects and occurrences without-when your
eyes are fixed upon a dead blank-yot
draw purely from yourselves. A silence
of a single moment upon Monsieur Dessein's leaving us, bad been fatal to the
situation-she hadinfallibly turned aboutso I begun the conversation instantly.-But what were the temptations, (as I
write not to apologize for the weaknesses of
my heart in this tour,-but to give an account of them)-shall be described with
the same simplicity with which I felt them.

IN THE STREET.

WHEN I told the reader that I did not care
to get out of the Dlsobligeant, because I
saw the monk in close conference with a
lady just arrived at the inn-1 told him
the truth; but I did not tell him the whole
truth ; for I was as full as much restrained
by the appearance and figure of the lady
he was talking to. Suspicion crossed my
brain and said, he was telling her what
had passed: something jarred upon it within me-I wished him at his convent.
When the heart flies out before the understanding, it saves the judgment a world
of pains-I was certain she was of a better
order of beings-however, I thought no
more of her, but went on and wrote my
preface.
The impression returned upon my encounter with her in the street; a guarded
frankness with which she gave me her
hand, showed, I thought, her good education and her good sense; and as I led her
on, I felt a pleasurable ductility about her,
which spread a calmness over all my
spirits-Good God ! how a man might lead
such a creature as this round the world
with him!I had not yet seen her face-'twas not
material: for the drawing was instantly
set about, and long before we had got tc
the door of the Remise, Fancy had finished
the whole head, and pleased herself as
much with its fitting her goddess, as if she
had dived into the Tiber for it-but thoLi

Calais.
IT must needs be a hostile kind of a world,
when the buyer (if it be but of a sorry postchaise) cannot go forth with the seller
thereof into the street to terminate the
difference betwixt them, but he instantly
falls into the same frame of mind, and
views his conventionist with the same sort
of eye, as if he was going along with him
to Hyde-park corner to fight a dueL For
my own part, being but a poor swordsman,
and no way a match for Monsieur Dessein,
I felt the rotation of all the movements
within me, to which the situation is incident-I looked at Monsieur Dessein
through and through-eyed him as he
walk'd along in profile-then, en facethought like a Jew-then a Turk-disliked
his wig-cursed him by my gods-wished
him at the devil-And is all this to be lighted up in the
heart for a beggarly account of three or
four louis d'ors, which is the most I can be
overreached in ?-Base passion ! said I,
turning myself about, as a man naturally
does upon a sudden reverse of sentimentbase, ungentle passion ! thy hand is against
every man, and every man's hand against
thee-Heaven forbid ! said she, raising her
hand up to her forehead, for I had turned
full in front upon the lady whom I had
seen in conference with the monk-she

THE REMISE DOOR.
Calais.

A SENTIMENTAL JOURNEY
wound : I never felt the pain of a sheepish
inferiority so miserably in my life.
The triumphs of a true feminine heart
are short upon these discomfitures. In a
very few seconds she laid her hand upon
the cuffof my coat, in order to finish her
reply; so some way or other, God knows
how, I regained my situation.
-She had nothing to add.
I forthwith began to model a different
conversation for the lady, thinking from
the spirit as well as moral of this, that I had
beel mistaken in her character ; but upon
turning her face towards me, the spirit
which had animated the reply was fledthe muscles relaxed, and I beheld the
same unprotected look of distress which
first won me to her interest-melancholy;
to see such sprightliness the prey of sorrowI pitied her from my soul; and though it
may seem ridiculous enough to a torpid
heart-I could have taken her into my
arms, and cherished her, though it was in
the open street, without blushing.
The pulsations of the arteries along my
fingers pressing across hers, told her what
was passing within me : she looked downa silence of some moments followed.
I fear in this interval, I must have made
some slight efforts towards a closer compression of her hand, from a subtle sensation I felt in the palmn of my own-not as
if she was going to withdraw hers-but as
if she thought about it- and I had infallibly lost it a second time, had not instinct
more that reason directed me to the last
resource in these dangers-to hold it loosely, and in a manner as if I was every mo.
ment going to release it, of myself; so she
THE REMISE DOOR.
let it continue, till Monsieur Dessein returned with the key; and in the mean
Calais.
time I set myself to consider how I should
Tais certainly, fair lady! said I, raising undo the ill impressions which the poor
her hand up a little lightly as I began, monk's story, in case he had told it her
must be one of Fortune's whimsical must have planted in her breast against me.
doings; to take two utter strangers by
THE SNUFF BOX.
their hands-of different sexes, and perhaps from different corners of the globe,
Calais.
and in one moment place them together in
such a cordial situation; as Friendship
herself could scarce have achieved for THE good old monk was within six paces
of us, as the idea of him crossed my mind,
them, had she projected it for a monthyour reflection upon it shows and was advancing towards us a little out
-And
how much, Monsieur, she has embarrassed of the line, as if uncertain whether he
should break in upon us or no-He stopyou by the adventureWhen the situation is what we would ped, however, as soon as he came up to us,
wish, nothing is so ill-timed as to hint at with a world of frankness: and having a
the circumstances which make it so: you horn snuff box in his hand, he presented
thank Fortune, continued she-you had it open to me-You shall tapte mine-said
reason-the heart knew it, and was satis- I, pulling out my box (which was a small
fled; and who but an English philosopher tortoise one) and putting it into his handwould have sent notices of it to the brain 'Tis most excellent, said the monk; then
do me the favour, I replied, to accept of
to reverse the judgment ?
In saying this, she disengaged her hand the box and all, and when you take a pinch
with a look which I thought a sufficient out of it, sometimes recollect it was the
peace offering of a man who once used you
commentary upon the text.
It is a miserable picture which I am unkindly, but not from his heart.
The poor monk blushed as red as scarlet.
going to give of the weakness of my heart,
by owning, that it suffered a pain, which Mon Dieu! said he, pressing his hands toworthier occasions could not have inflict- gether-you never used me unkindly.-I
ed.-I was mortified with the loss of her should think, said the lady, he is not likely.
hand, and the manner in which I had lost I blushed in my turn; but from what
t carried neither oil nor wine to the movements, I leave to the few who feel to

art a seduced and a seducing slut; and albeit thou cheatest us seven times a day
with thy pictures and images, yet with so
many charms dost thou do it, and thou
deckest out thy pictures in the shapes of so
many angels of light, 'tis a shame to break
with thee.
When we had got to the door of the
Remise, she withdrew her hand from across
her forehead, and let me see the originalit was a face of about six-and-twenty-of a
clear transparent brown, simply set off
without rouge or powder-it was not critically handsome, but there was that in it,
which, in the frame of mind I was in, attached me much more to it-it was interesting : I fancied it wore the characters
of a widowed look, and in that state of its
declension, which had passed the two first
paroxysms of sorrow, and was quietly beginning to reconcile itself to its loss-but a
thousand other distresses might have trac.
ed the same lines ; I wished to know what
they had been-and was ready to inquire,
(had the same bon ton of conversation permitted, as in the days of Esdras)-" What
aileth thee ? and why art thou disquieted ?
and why is thy understanding troubled ?"In a word, 1 felt benevolence for her ;
and resolved some way or other to throw
in my mite of courtesy-if not of service.
Such were my temptations-and in this
disposition to give way to them, was I left
alone with the lady with her hand in mine,
and with our faces both turned closer to
the door of the Remise than what was absolutely necessary.

THROUGH FRANCE AND ITALY.
out first pressing it to my lips: the blood
and spirits, which had suffered a revulsion
from her, crowded back to her as I did it.
Now the two travellers, who had spoke
to me in the coach-yard, happening at that
crisis to be passing by, and observing our
communications, naturally took, it into
their heads that we must be man and wife
at least; so stopping as soon as they came
up to the door of the Remise, the one of
them who was the Inquisitive Traveller,
asked us, if we set out for Paris the next
morning ?-I could only answer for myself,
I said; and the lady added, she was for
Amiens-We dined there yesterday, said
the Simple Traveller-You go directly
through the town, added the other, in your
road to Paris. I was going to return a
thousand thanks for the intelligence, that
Amiens was in the road to Paris,but, upon
pulling out my poor monk's little horn box
to take a pinch of snuff-I made them a
quiet bow, and wishing them a good
passage to Dover-they left us alone-Now where would be the harm, said I
to myself, if I were to beg of this distressed
lady to accept of half of my chaise ?-and
what mighty mischief could ensue?
Every dirty passion, and bad propensity
in my nature took the alarm, as I stated
the proposition-It will oblige you to have
a third horse, said Avarice, which will put
twenty livres out of your pocket-You
know not what she is, said Caution-or
what scrapes the affair may draw you into,
whispered CowardiceDepend upon it, Yorick ! said Discre
tion, 'twill be said you went off with a
mistress, and came by assignation to Calais
for that purposeYou can never after, cried Hypocrisy
aloud, show your face in the world-or
rise, quoth Meanness, in the church-or
be any thing in it, said Pride, but a lousy
prebendary.
But 'tis a civil thing, said I-and as I
generally act from the first impulse, and
therefore seldom listen to these cabals,
which serve to no purpose, that I know of,
but to encompass the heart with adamantI turned instantly about to the lady-But she had glided off unperceived, as
the cause was pleading, and had made ten
or a dozen paces down the street, by the
time I had made the determination; so I
set off after her with a long stride, to
make her the proposal with the best address I was master of: but observing she
walked with her cheek half resting upon
the palm of her hand-with the slow shortmeasured step of thoughtfulness, and with
her eyes, as she went step by step, fixed
upon the ground, it struck me she was
trying the same cause herself-God help
her! said I, she has some mother-in-law,
or tartufish aunt, or nonsensical old woTHE REMISE DOOR.
man, to consult upon the occasion, as well
as myself: so not caring to interrupt the
process, and deeming it more gallant to
Calais.
take her at discretion than by surprise, I
I liADnever quitted the lady's hand all this faced about and took a short turn or two
time, and had held it so long, thatit would before the door of the Remise, whilst she
have been indecent to have let it go, with- walked musing on one side.
X2

analyze-Excuse me, Madam, replied II treated him most unkindly; and from
no provocations-'Tis impossible, said the
lady-My God ! cried the monk, with a
warmth of asseveration which seemed not
to belong to him-the fault was in me, and
in the indiscretion of my zeal-the lady
opposed it, and I joined with her in maintaining it was impossible that a spirit, so
regulated as his, could give offence to any.
I knew not that contention could be
rendered so sweet and pleasurable a thing
to the nerves as I then felt it-We remained silent, without any sensation of that
foolish pain which takes place, when in
such a circle you look for ten minutes in
one another's faces without saying a word.
Whilst this lasted, the monk rubbed his
horn box upon the sleeve of his tunic ;
and as soon it had acquired a little air of
brightness by the friction-he made me a
low bow, and said 'twas too late to say
whether it was the weakness or goodness
of our tempers which had involved us in
this contest-but be it as it would-he
begged we might exchange boxes-In saying this, he presented his to me with one
hand, as he took mine from me in the
other, and having kissed it-with a stream
of good nature in his eyes he put it into
his bosom-and took his leave.
I guard this box, as I would the instrumental parts of my religion, to help my
mind on to something better : in truth, I
seldom go abroad without it; and oft and
many a time have I called up by it the
courteous spirit of its owner to regulate
my own, in the justlings of the world ;
they had found full employment for his, as
I learned from his story, till about the
forty-fifth year of his age, when upon
some military services ill requited, and
meeting at the same time with a disappointment in the tenderest of passions, he
abandoned the sword and the sex together,
and took sanctuary not so much in his
convent as in himself.
I feel a damp upon my spirits, as I am
going to add, that in my last return
through Calais, upon enquiring after Fathter Lorenzo, I heard that he had been
ddad near three months, and was buried,
not in his convent, but, according to his
desire, in a little cemetery belonging to it,
about two leagues off; I had a strong desire to see where they had lain him-when,
upon pulling out his little horn box, as I
sat by his grave, and plucking up a nettle
or two at the head of it, which had no
business to grow there, they all stuck together so forcibly upon my affections, that
burst into a flood of tears-but I am as
weak as a woman; and I beg the world
not to smile, but pity me.

8

A SENTIMENTAL JOURNEY
IN THE STREET.
Calais.

HAVING, on the first sight of the lady,
settled the affair in my fancy "that she
was of the better order of beings"-and
then laid it down as a second axiom, as indisputable as the first, That she was a
widow, and wore a character of distress-I
went no further; I got ground enough for
the situation which pleased me-and had
she remained close beside my elbow till
midnight, I should have held true to my
system, and considered her only under that
general idea.
She had scarce got twenty paces distant
from me, ere something within me called
out for a more particular inquiry-it
brought on the idea of a further separation-I might possibly never see her more
-the heart is for saving what it can; and
I wanted the traces through which my
wishes might find their way to her, in case
I should never rejoin her myself; in a
word, I wished to know her name-her
family-her condition ; and as I knew the
place to which she was going, I wanted to
know from whence she came: but there
was no coming at all this intelligence; a
hundred little dehcacies stood in the way.
I formed a score different plans-There
was no such thing as a man's asking her
directly-the thing was impossible.
A little French debonnaire captain, who
came dancing down the street, showed me,
it was the easiest thing in the world; for
popping in betwixt us, just as the lady was
returning back to the door of the Remise,
he introduced himself to my acquaintance,
and before he had well got announced,
begged I would do him the honour to present him to the lady-I had not been presented myself-so turning about to her, he
did it just as well, by asking her if she had
come from Paris ' No : she was going that
route, she said.-Vousn'tespas de Londre ?
-She was not, she replied -Then Madam
must have come through Flanders.-Apparemment vous etes Flammande? said the
French captain-The lady answered, she
was-Puet-titre de Lisle? added he-She
said, she was not of Lisle.-Nor Arras ?nor Cambray ?-nor Ghent? nor Brussels ?
She answered, she was of Brussels.
He had had the honour, he said, to be at
the bombardment of it last war-that it was
finely situated, your cela-and full of noblesse when the Imperialists were driven
out by the French (the lady made a slight
courtesy)-so giving her an account of the
affair, and of the share he had had in it-he
begged the honour to know her name-so
made his bow.
-LEt Madame a son Mars ?-said he,
looking back when he had made two steps
-and without staying for an answerdancea down the street.
Had 1 served seven years apprenticeship
to good breeding, I could not have done as
much.

THE REMISE.
Caais.
As the little French captain left us, Monsieur Dessein came up with the key of the
Remise in his hand, and forthwith let us
into his magazine of chaises.
The first object which caught my eye,
as Monsieur Dessein opened the door of
the Remise, was another old tattered Diso.
bligeant and notwithstanding it was the
exact picture of that which had hit my
fancy so much in the coach-yard but an
hour before-the very sight of it stirred up
a disagreeable sensation within me now;
and I thought 'twas a churlish beast into
whose heart the idea could first enter, to
construct such a machine; nor had I much
more charity for the man who could think
of using it.
I observed the lady was as little taken
with it as myself: so Monsieur Dessein
led us on to a couple of chaises which stood
abreast, telling us, as he recommended
them, that they had been purchased by my
Lord A. and B. to the grand tour, but had
gone no further than Paris, so were in all
respects as good as new-They were too
good-so I passed on to a third, which
stood behind, and forthwith begun to chaf.
fer for the price-But 'twill scarce hold two,
said I, opening the door and getting inHave the goodness, madam, said Monsieur
Dessein, offering his arm, to step in-The
lady hesitated half a second, and stepped
in; and the waiter that moment beckoning
to speak to Monsieur Dessein, he shut the
door of the chaise upon us, and left us.
THE REMISE.
Calais.
C'EST bien comique, 'tis very droll, said
the lady, smiling, from the reflection that
this was the second time we had been left
together by a parcel of nonsensical contingencies-c'est bien comique, said she-There wants nothing, said I, to make
it so but the comic use which the gallantry
of a Frenchman would put it to-to make
love the first moment, and an offer of his
person the second.
'Tis their fort, replied the lady.
It is supposed so at least-and how it
has come to pass, continued I, I know
not; but they have certainly got the credit
of understanding more of love, and making
it better than any other nation upon earth:
but, for my own part I think them errant
bunglers, and in truth the worst set of
marksmen that ever tried Cupid's patience.
-To think of making love by sentiments I
I should as soon think of making a genteel suit of clothes out of remnants :-and
to do it-pop-at first sight by declaration
-is submit ting the offer and themselves
with it to be shifted with all their pours
and contres, by an unheated mind.
The lady attended as if she expected I
should go on.

THROUGH FRANCE

AND ITALY.

Consider then, Madam, continued I,
laying my hand upon hersThat grave people hate love for the
name's sakeThat selfish people hate it for their
ownHypocrites for heaven'sAnd that all of us, both old and young,
Being ten times worse frightened than hurt
by the very report-What a want of knowledge in this
branch of commerce a man betrays, whoever lets the word come out of his lips, till
an hour or two at least after the time that
his silence upon it becomes tormenting. A
course of small, quiet attentions, not so
pointed as to alarm-nor so vague as to be
misunderstood-with now and then a look
of kindness, and little or nothing said upon
it-leaves nature for your mistress, and she
fashions it to her mindThen I solemnly declare, said the lady,
blushing, you have been making love to
me all this while.

9

-What a large volume of adventures
may be grasped within this little span of
life by him who interests his heart in every
thing, and who, having eyes to see what
time and chance are perpetually holding
out to him as he journeyeth on his way
misses nothing he can fairly lay his hands
on.
-If
this won't turn out somethinganother will-no matter-'tis an essay upon
human nature-I get my labour for my
pains ;-'tis enough-the pleasure of the
experiment has kept my senses and the
best part of my blood awake, and laid the
i gross to sleep.
I pity the man who can travel from Dan
to Beersheba, and cry, 'Tis all barren-and
so it is; and so is all the world to him who
will not cultivate the fruits it offers. I
declare, said I, clapping my hands cheerly
together, that was I in a desert, I would
find out wherewith in it to call forth my
affections:-If I could not do better, I
would fasten them upon some sweet myrtle, or seek some melancholy cypress to
THE REMISE.
connect myself to-I would court their
shade, and greet them kindly for their pro.
Calais.
tection ;-I would cut my name upon them,
and swear they were the loveliest trees
MONSIEUR DESSEIN came back to let us throughout the desert: if their leaves
out of the chaise, and acquaint the lady, withered, I would teach myself to mourn;
the count de L--,
her brother, was just and, when they rejoiced, I would rejoice
arrived at the hotel. Though I had in- along with them.
The learned Smelfungus travelled from
finite good will for the lady, I cannot say
Boulogne to Paris-from Paris to Romethat I rejoiced in my heart at the eventand could not help telling her so-for it is and so on ;-but he set out with the spleen
fatal to a proposal, Madam, said I, that I and jaundice, and every object he passed
by was discoloured or distorted.-He wrote
was going to make to you-You need not tell me what the pro- an account of them, but 'twas nothing but
posal was, said she, laying her hand upon the account of his miserable feelings.
[met Smelfungus in the grand portico
both mine, as she interrupted me.-A
man, my good sir, has seldom an offer of of the Pantheon-he was just coming out
kindness to make to a woman, but she has of it.-'Tis nothing but a huge cockpit,
said he:-I wish you had said nothing
a presentiment of it some moments beforeNature arms her with it, said I,forim- worse of the Venus of Medicis, replied I;
mediate preservation-But I think, said -for in passing through Florence, I had
she, looking in my face, I had no evil to heard he had fallen foul upon the goddess,
apprehend-and to deal frankly with you, and used her worse than a common strum.
pet, without the least provocation in nahad determined to accept it.-If I had(she stopped a moment)-I believe your ture.
good will would have drawn a story from
I popped upon Smelfungus again at Turin,
me, which would have made Pity the only in his return home, and a sad tale of sor.
rowful adventures had he to tell, "wherein
dangerous thing in the journey.
In saying this, she suffered me to kiss he spoke of moving accidents by flood and
her hand twice, and with a look of sensi- field, and of the cannibals that each othe'
bility mixed with concern, she got out of eat: the Anthropophagi"-he has beethe chaise-and bid adieu,
flayed alive, and bedeviled, and used wors.
than St. Bartholomew, at every stage he
had come at.
IN THE STREET.
-I'll tell it, cried Smelfungus, to the
world.-You had better tell it, said I, to
Calais,
your physician.
I NEVER finished a twelve guinea bargain
Mundungus, with an immense fortune,
so expeditiously in my life : my time seem- made the whole tour; going on from Rome
ed heavy, upon the loss of the lady, and to Naples-from Naples to Venice-from
knowing every moment of it would be as Venice to Vienna-to Dresden, to Berlin,
two, till I put myself into motion-I order- without one generous connexion or pleaed post horses directly, and walked towards surable anecdote to tell of; but he had traveiled straight on, looking neither to his
the hotel,
Lord ! said I, hearing the town clock right hand nor his left, lest Love or Pit
strike four, and recollecting that I had should seduce him out of his road.
been little more than a single hour in CaaisVide 8---'s Travels.

0

10

A SENTIMENT'AL

Peace be to them ! if it is to be found ;
out heaven itself, was it possible to get
there with such tempers, would want objects to give it ;-every gentle spirit would
come flying upon the wings of Love to
bail their arrival;-nothing would the
souls of Smelfungus and Mundungus hear
of, but fresh anthems of joy, fresh raptures of love, and fresh congratulations of
their common felicity.-I heartily pity
them; they have brought up no faculties
for this work; and, was the happiest mansion in heaven to be allotted to Smelfungus
and Mundungus, they would be so far
from being happy, that the souls of Smelfungus and Mundungus would do penance
there to all eternity.
MONTREUIL.
once lost my portmanteau from beI HAD
hind my chaise, and twice got out in the
rain, andl one of the times up to the knees
in dirt, to help the postilion to tie it on,
without being able to find out what was
wanting;-nor was it till I got to Montreuil, upon the landlord's asking me if I
wanted not a servant, that it occurred to
me, that that was the very thing.
A servant ! that I do most sadly, quoth
I.-Because, Monsieur, said the landlord,
there is a clever young fellow, who would
be very proud of the honour to serve an
Englishman.-But why an English one,
more than any other ?-They are so generous, said the landlord.-I'll be shot if this
is not a livre out of my pocket, quoth I to
myself, this very night.-But they have
wherewithal to be so, Monsieur, added he.
-Set down one livre more for that, quoth
I.-It was but last night, said the landlord,
qu'un milord Anglois presentoit un ecu d la
file de chambre.-Tant pis pour Mademoiselle Jeanneton, said I.
Now Janatone being the landlord's
daughter, and the landlord supposing I
was young in French, took the liberty to
inform me, I should not have said tant pis
-but, tant mieux. Tant mieux, toujours,
monsieur, said he, when there is any thing
to be got-tantpis, when there is nothing.
It comes to the §ame thing, said I. Pardonnex-moi, said the landlord.
I cannot take a fitter opportunity to observe, once for all, that tanut pis and tant
being two of the great hinges in
French conversation, a stranger would do
well to set himself right in the use of
them, before he gets to Paris.
A prompt French marquis at our ambassador's table demanded of Mr. H-, if
he was H- the poet. No said Mr. H-,
mildly.-Tant pis, replied the marquis.
It is H- the historian, said another,Tant mieuz, said the marquis. And Mr.
H-, who is a man of an excellent heart,
returned thanks for both.
When the landlord had set me right in
this matter, he called in La Fleur, which
was the name of the young man he had
spoke of-saying only first, that as for his
talents he would presume to say nothing.Monsieur was the best judge what would

mieu,

JOURNEY

suit him; but for the fidelity of La Fleur,
he would stand responsible in all he was
worth.
The landlord delivered this in a manner
which instantly set my mind to the busi.
ness I was upon-and La Fleur, who stood
waiting without, in that breathless expectation which every son of nature of us have
felt in our turns, came in.
MONTREUIL.
I AM apt to be taken with all kinds of people at first sight; but never more so than
when a poor devil comes to offer his service to so poor a devil as myself; and as I
know this weakness, I always suffer my
judgment to draw back something on that
very account-and this more or less, according to the mood I am in, and the case
-and I may add, the gender too, of the
person I am to govern.
When La Fleur entered the room, after
every discount I could make for my soul,
the genuine look and air of the fellow determined the matter at once in his favour,
so I hired him first-and then began to
inquire what he could do. But I shall find
out his talents, quoth I, as I want them;
besides, a Frenchman can do every thing.
Naw poor La Fleur could do nothing in
the world but beat a drum, and play a
march or two upon the fife. I was determined to make his talents do; and can't
say my weakness was ever so insulted by
my wisdom, as in the attempt.
La Fleur had set out early in life, as
gallantly as most Frenchmen do, with serving for a few years; at the end of which,
having satisfied the sentiment, and found
moreover, that the honour of beating a
drum was likely to be its own reward, as it
opened no further tract of glory to himhe retired a ses terres, and lived comme it
plaisoit a Dies-that is to say, upon nothing.
-And so, quoth Wisdom, you have hires
a drummer to attend you in this tour of
yours through France and Italy !-Psha
said I, and do not one half of our gentry
go with a humdrum compagnon du voyage
the same round, and have the piper and
the devil and all to pay besides ? When
man can extricate himself with an Iquivo.
que in such an unequal match, he is not ill
off.-But you can do something else, La
Fleur? said I.-0 qu'oui! he could make
spatterdashes, and play a little upon the
fiddle.-Bravo! said Wisdom.-Why, I
play a bass myself, said I-we shall do very
well. You can shave, and dress a wig a
little, La Fleur ?-He had all the dispositions in the world.-It is enough for Heaven ! said I, interrupting him-and ought
to be enough for me.-So supper coming
in, and having a frisky English spaniel on
one side of my chair, and a French valet,
with as much hilarity in his countenance
as ever Nature painted in one, on the other
was satisfied to my heart's content
-1
with my empire; and if monarchs knew
what they would be at, they might be as
satisfied as I was.

THROUGH FRANCE AND ITALY.
MONTREUIL.
As La Fleur went the whole tour of France
and Italy with me, and will be often upon
the stage, I must interest the reader a little
further in his behalf, by saying, that I had
never less reason to repent of the impulses
which generally do determine me, than in
regard to this fellow;-he was a faithful,
affectionate, simple soul as ever trudged
after the heels of a philosopher; and, notwithstanding his talents of drum beating
and spatterdash making, which, though
'very good in themselves, happened to be
of no great service to me, yet was I hourly
recompensed by the festivity of his temper;
-it supplied all defects :-I had a constant
resource in his looks in all difficulties and
distresses of my own-(I was going to have
added of his too) ; but La Fleur was out
of the reach of every thing; for, whether
'twas hunger or thirst, or cold or nakedness, or watchings, or whatever stripes of
ill luck La Fleur met with in our journeyings, there was no index in his physiognomy to point them out by-he was eternally
the same; so that if I am a piece of a
philosopher-which Satan now and then
puts it into my head I am-it always mortifies the pride of the conceit, by reflecting
how much I owe to the complexional phi.
losophy of this poor fellow for shaming me
"o one of a better kind. With all this
La Fleur had a small cast of the coxcomb ;
-but he seemed at first sight to be more a
coxcomb of nature than of art; and, before I had been three days in Paris with
him, he seemed to be no coxcomb at all.
MONTREUIL.
THE next morning La Fleur entering upon
his, employment, I delivered to him the
key of my portmanteau, with an inventory
of my halfa dozen shirts and a silk pair of
breeches, and bid him fasten all upon the
chaise-get the horses put to-and desire
the landlord to come in with his bill.
C'est un gargon de bonne fortune,said the
landlord, pointing through the window to
half a dozen wenches who had got round
about La Fleur, and were most kindly taking their leave of him, as the postilion was
leading out the horses. La Fleur kissed
all their hands round and round again, and
thrice he wiped his eyes, and thrice he
promised he would bring them all pardons
from Rome.
-The young fellow, said the landlord, is
beloved by all the town, and there is scarce
a corner in Montreuil where the want of
him will not be felt: he has but one misfortune in the world, continued he, ' he is
always in love.'-I am heartily glad of it,
said I-'twill save me the trouble every
night of putting my breeches under my
head. In saying this, I was making not
so much La Fleur's eloge as my own, haying been in love with one princess or another almost all my life, and I hope I shall
go on so till I die, being firmly persuaded,
that if ever I do a mean action, it must be
in some interval betwixt one passion and

11

another: whilst this interregnum lasts, I
always perceive my heart locked up-I can
scarce find in it to give Misery a six-pence,
and therefore 1 always get out of it as fast
as I can-and the moment I am rekindled,
I am all generosity and good-will again;
and would do any thing in the world,
either for or with any one, if they will but
satisfy me there is no sin in it.
-But in saying this-sure I am cornmending the passion-not myself.
A FRAGMENT.
THE town of Abdera, notwithstanding Democritus lived there, trying all
the powers of irony and laughter to reclain it, was the vilest and most profligate
town in all Thrace. What for poisons,
conspiracies, and assassinations-libels, pas.
quinades, and tumults, there was no going
there by day-'twas worse by night.
Now, when things were at the worst, it
came to pass that the Andromede of Euripides being represented at Abdera, the
whole orchestra was delighted with it:
but, of all the passages which delighted
them, nothing operated more upon their
imaginations than the tender strokes of
nature which the poet had wrought up in
that pathetic speech of Perseus, 0 Cupid,
prince of gods and men, &c. Every man
almost spoke pure iambics the next day,
and talked of nothing but Perseus his pa.
thetic address-"O Cupid ! prince of gods
and men !"-in every street of Abdera, in
every house-"O Cupid! Cupid !"-in
every mouth, like the natural notes of
some sweet melody which drop from it,
whether it will or no,-nothing but " Cupid! Cupid! prince of gods and men !"The fire caught-and the whole city, like the
heart of one man, opened itself to Love.
No pharmacopolist could sell one grain
of hellebore-not a single armourer had a
heart to forge one instrument of deathFriendship and Virtue met together, and
kiss'd each other in the street; the golden
age returned, and hung over the town of
Abdera; every Abderite took his oaten
pipe, and every Abderitish woman left her
purple web, and chastely sat her down, and
listened to the song.
'Twas only in the power, says the Frag.
ment, of the God, whose empire extendeth
from heaven to earth, and even to the
depths of the sea, to have done this.
MONTREUIL.
WHEN all is ready, and every article is
disputed and paid for in the inn, unless
you are a little soured by the adventure,
there is always a matter to compound at
the door, before you can get into your
chaise; and that is with the sons and
daughters of poverty, who surround you.
Let no man say, "Let them go to the
devil"-'tis a cruel journey to send a few
miserables, and they have had sufferings
enow without it: I always think it better
to take a few sous out in my hand; and I
would counsel every gentle traveller to do

12

A SENTIMENTAL JOURNEY

so likewise: he need not be so exact in
setting down his motives for giving themthey will be registered elsewhere.
For my own part, there is no man gives
so little as I do; for few that I know have
so little to give; but as this was the first
public act of my charity in France, I took
the more notice of it.
A well-away ! said 1,-I have but eight
Jous in the world, showing them in my
hand, and there are eight poor men and
eight poor women for 'em.
A poor tatter'd soul, without a shirt on,
instantly withdrew his claim, by retiring
two steps out of the circle, and making a
disqualifying bow on his part. Had the
whole parterrecried out, Place aux dames,
with one voice, it would not have conveyed
the sentiment of a deference for the sex
with half the effect.
Just Heaven! for what wise reasons
hast thou ordered it, that beggary and urbanity, which are at such variance in other
countries, should find a way to be at unity
in this.
-I insisted upon presenting him with a
single sous, merely for his politesse.
A poor little dwarfish brisk fellow, who
stood over against me in the circle, putting
something first under his arm, which had
once been a hat, took his snuff-box out of
his pocket, and generously offered a pinch
on both sides of him : it was a gift of consequence, and modesty declined.-The poor
little fellow pressed it upon them with a
nod of welcomeness.-Prenez en--enprenes,
said he, looking another way; so they each
took a pinch.-Pity thy box should ever
want one! said I to myself; so I put a
couple of sous into it-taking a small pinch
out of his box, to enhance their value, as
I did it. He felt the weight of the second
obligation more than that of the first,'twas doing him an honour-the other was
only doing him a charity-and he made
me a bow down to the ground for it.
-Here!
said I to an old soldier with
)ne hand, who .had been campaigned and
worn out to death in the service-here's
a couple of sons for thee.-Five le roil! said
the old soldier.
I had then but three sous left: so I
gave one simply pour l'amour de Dieu,
which was the footing on which it was
begged.-The poor woman had a dislocated
hip; so it could not be well upon any other
motive.
Mon cher el tres charitable monsieur.There's no opposing this, said I.
Milord Anglois; the very sound was
worth the money-so 1 gave my last sous
for it. But in the eagerness of giving, I
had overlooked a pauvre honteuz, who had
had no one to ask a sous for him, and who,
1 believe, would have perished, ere he
could have asked one for himself: he stood
by the chaise a little without the circle,
and wiped a tear from a face which I
thought had seen better days.-Good God !
said .I-.and have not one single sous left
I
to give him.-But you have a thousand!
Cried all the powers of nature, stirring
within me; so I gave him-no matter

what-I am ashamed to say how much
now-and was ashamed to think how little
then: so, if the reader can form any conjecture of my disposition, as these two
fixed points are given him, he may judge
within a livre or two what was the precise
sum.
I could afford nothing for the rest, but
Dieu vous bonisse.-Et le bon Dieu vous be.
nisse encore, said the old soldier, the dwarf,
&c. The pauvre honteux could say nothing ;-he pulled out a little handkerchief, and wiped his face as he turned away
-and I thought he thanked me more than
they all.
THE BIDET.
HAVING settled all these little matters, I
got into my post-chaise with more ease
than ever I got into a post.chaise in my
life; and La Fleur having one large jackboot on the far side of a little bidet,* and
another on this (for I count nothing of his
legs)-he cantered away before me as
happy and as perpendicular as a prince.
-But what is happiness! what is grandeur in this painted scene of life ! A dead
ass, before we had got a league, put a sudden stop to La Fleur's career ;-his bidet
would not pass by it,-a contention arose
betwixt them, and the poor fellow was
kicked out of his jack-boots the very first
kick.
La Fleur bore his fall like a French
Christian, saying neither more nor less
upon it, than Diable! so presently got up,
and came to the charge again astride his
bidet, beating him up to it as he would
have beat his drum.
The bidet flew from one side of the road
to the other, then back again-then this
way, then that way, and in short, every
way but by the dead ass :-La Fleur insisted
upon the thing-and the bidet threw him.
What's the matter, La Fleur, said I,
with this bidet of thine? Monsieur, said
he, c'est un cheval le plus opiniatre du
monde.-Nay, if he is a conceited beast, he
must go his own way, replied I. So La
Fleur got him offl,and giving him a good
sound lash, the bidet took me at my word,
and away he scampered back to Montreuil.
-Peste ! said La Fleur.
It is not mal-a-propos to take notice
here, that though La lFleur availed him.
self but of the different terms of exclama..
tion in this encounter-namely, Diable !
and Peste ! that there are nevertheless
three in the French language: like the positive, comparative, and superlative, one or
the other of which serves for every unex.
pected throw of the dice in life.
Le Diable ! which is the first and positive degree, is generally used uponordinary
emotions of the mind, where small things
only fall out contrary to your expecta_
tions; such as-the throwing one's doublets,-La Fleur's being kicked off his horse,
and so forth.-Cuckoldom, for the same
reason, is always-Le Diable!
* Post-horse.

THROUGH FRANCE AND ITALY.
But, in cases where the cast has something provoking in it, as in that of the bidet's running away after, and leaving La
Fleur aground in jack-boots-'tis the second
degree.
'Tis then Peste!
And for the third-But here my heart is wrung with pity
and fellow feeling, when I reflect what miseries must have been their lot, and how
bitterly so refined a people must have
smarted, to have forced them upon the use
of it.Grant me, O ye powers which touch the
tongue with eloquence in distress !-whatever is my cast, grant me but decent words
to exclaim it, and I will give my nature
way.
But as these were not to be had in
France, I resolved to take every evil just
as it befell me, without any exclamation at
all.
La Fleur, who had made no such covenant with himself, followed the bidet with
his eyes till it was got out of sight-and
then, you may imagine, if you please, with
what word he closed the whole affair.
As there was no hunting down a frightened horse in jack-boots, there remained
no alternative but taking La Fleur either
behind the chaise, or into it.I preferred the latter, and in half an
hour we got to the post-house at Nam.
pont.
NAMPONT.
The Dead Ass.
---- AND this, said he, putting the re.
mains of a crust into his wallet-and this
should have been thy portion, said he,
hadst thou been alive to have shared it
with me.-I thought, by the accent, it had
been an apostrophe to his child; but 'twas
to his ass, and to the very ass we had seen
dead in the road, which had occasioned La
Fleur's misadventure. The man seemed
to lament it much; and it instantly
brought into my mind Sancho's lamentation for his; but he did it with more true
touches of nature.
The mourner was sitting upon a stone
bench at the door, with the ass's pannel
and its bridle on one side, which he took
up from time to time,-then laid them
down-looked at them, and shook his head.
He then
thook his crust of bread out of his
wallet again, as if to eat it; held it some
time in his hand-then laid it upon the bit
of his ass's bridle-looked wistfully at the
little arrangement he had made-and then
gave a sigh
The simplicity of his grief drew numbers
about him, and La Fleur amongst the rest,
whilst the horses were getting ready; as 1
continued sitting in the post-chaise, I could
see and hear over their heads.
-He said he had come last from Spain,
where he had been from the furthest borders of Franconia; and had got so far on
his return home, when his ass died. Every
one seemed desirous to know what busi-

ness could have taken so old and poor
a man so far a journey from his own
home
It had pleased Heaven, he said, to bless
him with three sons, the finest lads in Germanv ; but having in one week lost twof the eldest of them by the small pox,
and the youngest falling ill of the same
distemper, he was afraid of being bereft of
them all; and made a vow, if Heaven
would not take him from him also, he
would go in gratitude to St. Iago in Spain.
When the mourner got thus far on his
story, he stopp'd to pay Nature his tribute
-and wept bitterly.
He said, Heaven had accepted the conditions; and that he had set out from his
cottage with this poor creature, who had
been a patient partner of his journey;that it had eat the same bread with him
all the way, and was unto him as a friend.
Every body who stood about, heard the
poor fellow with concern.-La Fleur offered him money.-The mourner said he did
not want it;-it was not the value of the
ass-but the loss of him.-The ass, he said,
he was assured, loved him; and upon this
told them a long story of a mischance
upon their passage over the Pyrenean
mountains, which had separated them
from each other three days; during which
time the ass had sought him as much as he
had sought the ass, and that they had
scarce either eat or drank till they met.
Thou hast one comfort, friend, said I, at
least, in the loss of thy poor beast ; I'm
sure thou hast been a merciful master to
him.-Alas ! said the mourner, I thought
so when he was alive ;-but now that he
is dead, I think otherwise -I fear the
weight of myself and my afflictions together have been too much for him-they
have shortened the poor creature's days,
and I fear I have them to answer for.-Shame on the world! said I to myself.Did we but love each other as this poor
soul loved his ass-'twould be something.NAMPONT.
The Postillion.
THE concern which the poor fellow's story
threw me into, required some attention ;
the postillion paid not the least to it, but
set off upon the pasv in a full gallop.
The thirstiest soul in the most sandy
desert of Arabia could not have wished
more for a cup of cold water, than mine
did for grave and quiet movements; and I
should have had an high opinion of the
postillion had he but stolen off with me in
something like a pensive pace ; on the
contrary, as the mourner finished his
lamentation, the fellow gave an unfeeling
lash to each of his beasts, and set off clattering like a thousand devils.
I called to him as loud as I could, for
Heaven's sake to go slower-and the louder
I called, the more unmercifully he galloped.-The deuce take him and his galloping
too-said I,-he'll go on tearing my nerves
to pieces till he was worked me into a

14

A SENTIMENTAL JOURNEY

foolish passion, and then he'll go slow that
I may enjoy the sweets of it.
The postillion managed the point to a
miracle: by the time he had got to the
foot of a steep hill, about half a league
from Nampont-he had put me out of
temper with him-and then with myself,
for being so.
My case then required a different treatment; and a good rattling gallop would
have been of real service to me.
-Then, prithee get on-get on, my good
lad, said I.
The postillion pointed to the hill.-I
then tried to return back to the story of
the poor German and his ass-but I had
broke the clue-and could no more get
into it again than the postillion could into
a trot.
-The deuce go, said I, with it all!
Here am I sitting as candidly disposed to
make the best of the worst, as ever wight
was, and all runs counter.
There is one sweet lenitive at least for
evils, which Nature holds out to us : so I
took it kindly at her hands, and fell asleep;
and the first word which roused me was
.lmiens.
-Bless me! said I, rubbing my eyesthis is the very town where my poor lady
is to come.
AMIENS.
THE words were scarce out of my mouth
when the Count de L***'s post-chaise,
with his sister in it, drove hastily by : she
had just time to make me a bow of recognition-and of that particular kind of it,
which told me she had not yet done with
me. She was as good as her look; for,
before I had quite finished my supper, her
brother's servant came into the room with
a billet, in which she said she had taken
the liberty to charge me with a letter
which I was to present myself to Madame
the first morning I had nothing to
do at Paris. There was only added, she,
was sorry, but from what penchant she had
not considered, that she had been prevented telling me her story-that she still owed
it me ; and if my route should ever lay
through Brussels, and I had not by then
forgot the name of Madame de L**-that Madame de L*** would be glad to
discharge her obligation.
Then I will meet thee, said I, fair spirit !
at Brussels ;-'tis only returning from Italy
through Germany to Holland, by the route
of Flanders, home ;-'twill scarce be ten
posts out of my way; but, were it ten
thousand! with what a moral delight will
it crown my journey, in sharing in the
sickening incidents of a tale of misery told
to me by such a sufferer ? To see her
weep! and, though I cannot dry up the
fountain of her tears, what an exquisite
sensation is there still left, in wiping them
away from off the cheeks of the first and
fairest of women, as I'm sitting with my
handkerchief in my hand in silence the
whole night beside her?
There was nothing wrong in the senti-

ment; and yet I instantly reproached my
heart with it in the bitterest and most re.
probate of expressions.
It had ever, as I told the reader, been
one of the singular blessings of my life, to
be almost every hour of it miserably in
love with some one; and my last dame
happening to be blown out by a whiff of
jealousy on the sudden turn of a corner, I
had lighted it up afresh at the pure taper
of Eliza but about three months beforeswearing, as I did it, that it should last
me through the whole journey.-Why
should I dissemble the matter? I had
sworn to her eternal fidelity;-she had a
right to my whole heart;-to divide my
affections was to lessen them ;-to expose
them was to risk them: where there s
risk there may be loss :-and what will
thou have, Yorick, to answer to a heart
so full of trust and confidence-so good, so
gentle, and unreproaching!
-- I will not go to Brussels, replied I, in.
terrupting myself;-but my imagination
went on,-I recalled her looks at that crisis
of our separation, when neither of us had
power to say adieu! I looked at the picture
she had tied in a black riband about my
neck-and blushed as I looked at it.-I
would have given the world to have kissed
it-but was ashamed.-And shall this ten.der flower, said I, pressing it between my
hands-shall it be smitten to its very root
-and smitten, Yorick ! by thee, who hast
promised to shelter it in thy breast ?
Eternal fountain of happiness! said I,
kneeling down upon the ground-be thou
my witness-and every pure spirit which
tastes it, be my witness also, That I would
not travel to Brussels, unless Eliza went
along with me, did the road lead me to.wards Heaven!
In transports of this kind, the heart, in
spite of the understanding, will always say
too much.

Re**

THE LETTER.
Amiew.
FORTUNE not smiled upon La Fleur;
had
for he had been unsuccessful in his feats of
chivalry-and not one thing had offered to
signalize his zeal for my service from the
time that he had entered into it, which
was almost four-and-twenty hours. The
poor soul burned with impatience; and
the Count de La**'s servant coming with
the letter, being the first practicable occasion which offered, La Fleur laid hold of
it, and, in order to do honour to his master,
had taken him into a back parlour in the
and treated him with a ,sup or
two of the best wine in Picardy; and the
Count de L***'s servant in return, and
not to be behindhand in politeness with
La Fleur, had taken him back with him
to the Count's hotel. La Fleur's preuve.sance (for there was a passport in his very
looks) soon set every servant in thekitchen
at ease with him; and as a Frenchman,
whatever be his talents, has no sort of
prudery in showing them, La Fleur, in

auberge,

THROUGH FRANCE AND ITALY.

15

less than five minutes, had pulled out his weighed more than all-he did not look as
fife, and leading off the dance himself with if he had done amiss.
-'Tis all very well, La Fleur, said I.-the first note, set the fdle de chambre, the
mait, e d'hotel, the cook, the scullion, and 'Twas sufficient. La Fleur flew out of the
all the household, dogs and cats, besides room like lightning, and returned with
an old monkey, adancing: I suppose there pen, ink, and paper, in his hand; and,
never was a merrier kitchen since the coming up to the table, laid them close
before me, with such a delight in his coun.
flood.
Madame de L***, in passing from her tenance, that I could not help taking up
brother's apartments to her own, hearing the pen.
I began and began again; and, though
so much jollity below stairs, rung up her
fille de chambre to ask about it; and, hear- I had nothing to say, and that nothing
ing it was the English gentleman's servant, might have been expressed in half a dozen
who had set the whole house merry with lines, I made half a dozen different begin.
nings, and could no way please myself.
his pipe, she ordered him up.
As the poor fellow could not present
In short, I was in no mood to write.
La Fleur stepped out and brought a little
himself empty, he had loaded himself in
going up stairs with a thousrnd compli- water in a glass to dilute my ink-then
ments to Madame de L***, on the part fetched sand and sealing wax-It was all
of his master-added a long apocrypha of one; I wrote, and blotted, and tore off,
inquiries after Madame de L***'s he lth and burned, and wrote again.-Le diable
-told her, that Monsieur his master was l'emporte! said I, half to myself-I can.
au d sespoir for her re-establishment from not write this self-same letter, throwing
the fatigues of her journey-and, to close down the pen despairingly as I said it.
As soon as I had cast down my pen, La
all, that Monsieur had received the letter
which Madame had done him the h.lour Fleur advanced with the most respectful
And he has done me the honour, carriage up to the table, and making a
said Madame de L***, interrupting La thousand apologies for the liberty he was
going to take, told me he had a letter in
Fleur, to send a billet in retuv.
Madame de L*** had said this with his pocket wrote by a drummer in his resuch a tone of reliance upon the fact, that giment to a corporal's wife, which he durst
La Fleur had not power to disappoint her say would suit the occasion.
I had a mind to let the poor fellow have
expectations ;-he trembled for my honour
-and possibly might not altogether be un- his humour.-Then prithee, said 1, let me
concerned for his own, as a man capable see it.
La Fleur instantly pulled out a little
of being attached to a master who could
be wanting en egards visa vis d'unefemme I dirty pocket book crammed full of small
so that when Madame de L*** asked La letters and billet-doux in a sad condition,
Fleur if he had brought a letter-0 qu'oui, and laying it upon the table, and then unsaid La Fleur: so laying down his hat tying the string which held them all to.
upon the ground, and taking hold of the gether, run them over, one by one, till he
flap of his right side pocket with his left came to the letter in question,-La voila!
hand, he began to search for the letter said he, clapping his hands; so unfolding
with his right;-then contrariwise.-Di- it first, he laid it open before me, and reable! then sought every pocket-pocket tired three steps from the table whilst I
by pocket, round, not forgetting his fob :- read it.
Peste!-then La Fleur emptied themupon
THE LETTER.
the floor-pulled out a dirty cravat-a
handkerchief-a comb-a whip lash-a
Madame,
night cap-then gave a peep into his hatQuelle etourderie! He had left the letter JE suis pendtre de la douleur la plus vive,
upon the table in the auberge-he would et reduit en mbme temps au desespoir par
run for it, and be back with it in three ce retour imprevu du Caporal qui rend
notre entrevue de ce soir la chose du
minutes.
I hlad just finished my supper when La monde la plus impossible.
Mais vive la joie ! et toute la mienne
Fleur came in to give me an account of
his adventure: he told me the whole story sera de penser a vous.
L'amour n'est rien sans sentiment.
simply as it was: and only added that if
Et le sentiment est encore moins sans
Monsieur had forgot (parhazard) to anamour.
swer Madame's letter, the arrangement
On dit qu'on ne doit jamais se desesperdr.
gave him an opportunity to recover the
On dit aussi que Monsieur le Caporal
fasz pas-and if not, that things were only
monte la garde mercredi: alors ce sera
as they were.
Now I was not altogether sure of my mon tour.
Chacus son tour.
itiquette, whether I ought to have wrote
En attendant-Vive l'amour ! et vive la
or no-but if I had-a devil himself could
not have been angry: 'twas but the offi- bagatelle!
Je suis, Madame,
cious zeal of a well meaning creature for
Avec tous les sentimens les plus remy honour; and, however he might have,.
spectueux et les plus tendres,
mistook the road-or embarrassed me in J
tout a vous,
so doing-his heart was in no fault-I wAs '
JAQUES ROCQUE
under no necessity to write ;-and, what i

16

A SENTIMENTAL JOURNEY.

It was but changing the corporal into
the count-and saying nothing about
mounting guard on Wednesday-and the
letter was neither right nor wrong :-so to
gratify the poor fellow, who stood trembling for my honour, his own, and the
honour of his letter-I took the cream
gently off it, and whipping it up in my
own way, I sealed it up and sent him with
it to Madame de L***-and the next
morning we pursued our journey to Paris.
PARIS.
WHEN a man can contest the point by dint
of equipage, and carry all on floundering
before him with half a dozen of lackies
and a couple of cooks-'tis very well in
such a place as Paris,-he may drive in at
which end of a street he will.
A poor prince who is weak in cavalry,
and whose whole infantry does not exceed
a single man, had best quit the field, and
signalize himself in the cabinet, if he can
get up into it ;-I say up into it-for there
is no descending perpendicular amongst
'em with a " Me voidc! mes enfans"-here
I am-whatever many may think.
I own my first sensations, as soon as I
was left solitary and alone in my own
chamber in the hotel, were far from being
so flattering as I had prefigured them. I
walked up gravely to the window in my
dusty black coat, and looking through the
glass saw all the world in yellow, blue, and
green, running at the ring of pleasure.The old with broken lances, and in helmets
which had lost their vizards-the young in
armour bright which shone like gold, beplumed with each gay feather of the east;
-all-all tilting at it like fasc nated knights
in tournaments of yore for fame and love.
Alas, poor Yorick! cried I, what art
thou doing here ? On the very first onset
of all this glittering clatter thou art reduced to an atom ;-seek-seek some winding alley, with a tourniquet at the end of
it, where chariot never rolled or flambeau
shot its rays-there thou mayest solace thy
soul in converse sweet with some kind
grisette of a barber's wife, and get into
such coteries !
-May I perish! if I do, said 1, pulling
out the letter which I had to present to
Madame de R***.-I'll wait upon this
lady, the very first thing I do. So I called
La Fleur to go seek me a barber directlyand come back and brush my coat.

stretch of an English periwigmaker's Ideas
could have gone no further than to have
" dipped it into a pail of water."-What
difference ! 'tis like time to eternity.
I confess I do hate all cold conceptions,
as I do the puny ideas which engender
them; and am generally so struck with
the great works of nature, that for my own
part, if I could help it, I never would
make a comparison less than a mountain
at least. All that can be said against the
French sublime in this instance of it, is
this-that the grandeur is more irn the
word, and less in the thing. No doubt, the
ocean fills the mind with vast ideas; but
Paris being so far inland, it was not likely
I should run post a hundred miles out of
it, to try the experiment;-the Parisian
barber meant nothing.
The pail of water standing beside the
great deep, makes certainly but a sorry
figure in speech ;-but 'twill be said-it
has one advantage-'tis in the next room,
and the truth of the buckle may be tried
in it, without more ado, in a single mo.
ment.
In honest truth, and upon amore candid
revision of the matter, The French expres.
sion professes more than it performs.
I think 1 can see the precise and distinguishing marks of national characters
more in these nonsensical minutie than in
the most important matters of state;
where great men of all nations talk and
stalk so much alike, that I would not give
ninepence to choose amongst them.
1 was so long in getting from under my
barber's hands, that it was too late to think
of going with my letter to Madame R***
that night: but when a man is once dressed at all points for going out, his reflections
turn to little account; so taking down the
name of the Hotel de Modene, where I
lodged, I walked forth without any determination where to go;-1 shall consider of
that, said I. as I walk along
THE PULSE
Paris.

HAIL, ye small sweet courtesies of life, for
smooth do ye make the road of it! like
grace and beauty, which beget inclinations
to love at first sight : 'tis ye who open this
door and let the stranger in.
-Pray, Madam, said I, have the goodness to tell me which way I must turn to
go to the Opera Comique ?-Most willingly,
THE WIG.
Monsieur, said she, laying aside her work.
I had given a cast with my eye into half
Paris.
a dozen shops, as I came along in search
of a face not likely to be disordered by
WHEN the barber came, he absolutely re- such an interruption : till at last, this hitfused to have any thing to do with my ting my fancy, I had walked in.
wig: 'twas either above or below his art :
She was working a pair of ruffles as she
I had nothing to do but to take one ready sat in a low chair on the far side of the
made of his own recommendation.
shop facing the door.
-But I fear, friend ! said I, this buckle
-Tres volontiers; most willingly, said
won't stand.-You may immerge it, replied she, laying her work down upon a chair
he, into the ocean, and it will stand.
next her, and rising up from the low chair
What a great scale is every thing upon she was sitting in, with so cheerful a move.
In this city! thought I.-The utmost ment and so cheerful a look, that had I

'HROUGH

FRANCE AND ITALY.

been laying out fifty Louis d'ors with her,
I should have said--" This woman is gratefuL"
You must turn, Monsieur, said she, going with me to the door of the shop, and
pointing the way down the street I was to
take-you must turn first to your left hand
-mais prenez garde-there are two turns,
and be so good as to take the second-then
go down a little way and you'll see a
church: and, when you are past it, give
yourself the trouble to turn directly to the
right, and that will lead you to the foot of
the Pont Neuf, which you must cross-and
there any one will do himself the pleasure
to show you.
She repeated her instructions three times
over to me, with the same goodnatured
patience the third time as the first;-and
if tones and manners have a meaning,
which certainly they have, unless to hearts
which shut them out-she seemed really
interested that I should not lose myself.
I will not suppose it was the woman's
beauty, notwithstanding she was the handsomest grisette, I think, I ever saw, which
had much to do with the sense I had of
her courtesy; only I remember, when I
told her how much I was obliged to her,
that I looked very full in her eyes,-and
that 1 repeated my thanks as often as she
had done her instructions.
I had not got ten paces from the door,
before I found I had forgot every tittle of
what she had said-so looking back, and
seeing her still standing in the door of the
shop, as if to look whether I went right or
no-I returned back to ask her, whether
the first turn was to my right or left-for
that I had absolutely forgot-Is it possible !
said she, half laughing. 'Tis very possible,
replied I, when a man is thinking more of
a woman than of her good advice.
As this was the real truth-she took it,
as every woman takes a matter of right,
with a slight courtesy.
-Attendez!
said she, laying her hand
upon my arm to detain me, whilst she
called a lad out of the back shop to get
ready a parcel of gloves. I am just going
to send him, said she, with a packet into
that quarter, and if you will have the complaisance to step in, it will be ready in a
moment, and he shall attend you to the
place.-So I walked in with her to the far
side of the shop : and taking up the ruffle
in my hand which she laid upon the
chair, as if I had a mind to sit, she sat
down herself in her low chair, and I instantly sat myself down beside her.
-He will be ready, Monsieur, said she,
in a moment.-And in that moment, replied 1, most willingly would I say something very civil to you for all these courtesies. Any one may do a casual act of good
nature, but a continuation of them shows
it is a part of the temperature ; and certainly, added I, if it is the same blood
which comes from the heart which descends to the extremes (touching her wrist)
I am sure you must have one of the best
pulses of any woman in the world.-Feel
it, said she, holding out her arm. So lay-

17

ing down my hat, I took hold of her fingers
in one hand, and applied the two fore
fingers of my other to the artery.
-Would to heaven ! my dear Eugenius,
thou hadst passed by, and beheld me sitting in my black coat, and in my lack-a.
daisical manner, counting the throbs of it,
one by one, with as much true devotion
as if I had been watching the critical ebb
or flow of her fever.-How wouldst thou
have laughed and moralized upon my new
profession! and thou shouldst have laughed
and moralized on.-Trust me, my dear
Eugenius, I should have said, "There are
worse occupations in this world than feeling a woman's pulse."-But a grisette's!
thou wouldst have said-and in an open
shop ! Yorick-So much the better: for when my
views are direct, Eugenius, I care not if
all the world saw me feel it.
THE HUSBAND.
Paris.
I HAD
counted twenty pulsations, and was
going on fast towards the fortieth, when
her husband, coming unexpected from a
back parlour into the shop, put me a little
out of my reckoning.--'Twas nobody but
her husband, she said ;-so I began a fresh
score.-Monsieur is so good, quoth she, as
he passed by us, as to give himself the
trouble of feeling my pulse-The husband
took off his hat, and making me a bow,
said, I did him too much honour-and
having said that, he put on his hat and
walked out.
Good God! said I to myself, as he went
out-and can this man be the husband of
this woman !
Let it not torment the few who know
what must have been the grounds of this
exclamation, if I explain it to those who
do not.
In London a shopkeeper and a
keeper's wife seem to be one bone andshopone
flesh: in the several endowments of mind
and other has it, so as in general sometimes
the body, sometimes the one, to be upon
a par, and to tally with each otheras nearly
as man and wife need to do.
In Paris, there are scarce two orders of
beings more different: for the legislative
and executive powers of the shop not resting in the husband, he seldom comes there
-in some dark and dismal room behind,
he sits commerceless in his thrum night.
cap, the same rough son of Nature that
Nature left him.
The genius of a people, where nothing
but the monarchy is salique, having ceded
this department, with sundry others, totally
to the women-by a continual higgling
with customers of all ranks and sizes from
morning to night, like so many rough pebbles shook long together in a bag, by amicable collisions they have worn down their
asperities and sharp angles, and not only
become round and smooth, but will re.
ceive, some of them, a polish like a bril-

18

A SENTIMENTAL JOURNEY

le

liant :-Monsieur
Mari is little better himself at my mercy ?P-1Pen
croyez cap.
than the stone under your foot.
able?-Faith ! not I, said I, and if you
-Surely--surely, man ! it is not good for were, you are welcome. So counting the
thee to sit alone-thou wast made for so- money into her hand, and with a lower
cial intercourse and gentle greetings; and bow than one generally makes to a shopthis improvement of our natures from it I keeper's wife, 1 went out, and her lad with
appeal to as my evidence.
his parcel followed me.
-And how does it beat, Monsieur? said
she.-With all the benignity, said I, lookTHE TRANSLATION.
ing quietly in her eyes, that I expected.She was going to say something civil in
Paris.
return-but the lad came into the shop
with the gloves.-A propos, I, I want THERE was nobody in the box I was let
said
a couple of pairs myself.
into but a kindly old French officer. I
love the character, not only because I
THE GLOVES.
honour the man whose manners are soft.
ened by a profession which makes bad min
Paris.
worse; but that I once knew one-for he
is no more-and why should I not rescue
THE beautifulgrisette rose up when I said one page from violation by writing his
this, and going behind the counter,reached name in it, and telling the world it was
down a parcel and untied it: I advanced to Captain Tobias Shandy, the dearest of my
the side over against her: they were all flock and friends, whose philanthropy I
too large. The beautiful grisettemeasured never think of at this long distance from
them one by one across my hand.-It his death, but my eyes gush out with tears.
would not alter their dimensions.-She For his sakeI have a predilection for the
begged I would try a single pair, which whole corps of veterans; and so 1 strode
seemed to be the least.-She held it open; over the two back rows of benches and
my hand slipped into it at once.-It will placed myself beside him.
not do, said I, shaking my head a little.The old officer was reading attentively a
No, said she, doing the same thing.
small pamphlet (it might be the book of
There are certain combined looks of the opera) with a large pair of spectacles.
simple subtlety-where whim, Eand sense, As soon as I sat down, he took his specand seriousness, and nonsense, are soblend- tacles off, and putting them into a shaed, that all the languages of Babel set loose green case, returned them and the book
together, could not express them;-they into his pocket together. I half rose up,
are communicated and caught so instanta- and made him a bow.
neously, that you can scarce say which
Translate this into any civilized language
party is the infecter. I leave it to your in the world-the sense is this:
men of words to swell pages about it-it is
" Here's a poor stranger come into the
enough in the present to say again, the box-he seems as if he knew nobody; and
gloves would not do; so folding our hands is never likely, was he to be seven years in
within our arms, we both lolled upon the Paris, if every man he comes near keeps
counter-it was narrow, and there was just his spectacles upon his nose-'tis shutting
room for the parcel to lay between us.
the door of conversation absolutely in his
The beautiful grisette looked sometimes face-and using him worse than a Gerat the gloves, then sideways to the window, man."
then at the gloves-and then at me. I
The French officer might as well have
was not disposed to break silence-I fol- said it all aloud : and if he had, I should
lowed her example: so I looked at the in course have put the bow I made him
gloves, then to the window, then at the I into French too, and told him, "I was
gloves, and then at her-and so on alter- sensible of his attention, and returned him
nately.
a thousand thanks for it."
I found I lost considerably in every atThere is not a secret so aiding to the
tack-she had a quick blackeye, and shot progress of sociality, as to get master of
through two such long and silken eye- this short hand, and to be quick in renderlashes with such penetration, that she ing the several turns of looks and limbs
looked into my very heart and reins.-It with all their inflections and delineations,
may seem strange, but I could actually into plain words. For my own part, by
feel she did.
long habitude I do it so mechanically, that
It is no matter, said I, taking up a when I walk the streets of London I go
couple of the pairs next me and putting translating all the way; and have more
them into my pocket.
than once stood behind the circle, where
I was sensible the beautiful grisette had not three words have been said, and have
not asked above a single livre above the brought off twenty different dialogues
price. I wished she had asked a livre with me, which I could have fairly wrote
more, and was puzzling my brains how to down and sworn to.
bring the matter about-Do you think,
I was going one evening to Martini's
my dear Sir, said she, mistaking my em- concert at Milan, and was just entering
barrassment, that I could ask a soustoo the door of the hall, when the Marquisina
much of a stranger-and of a stranger, di F*** was coming out in a sort of a
whose politeness more than his want of hurry :-she was almost upon me before I
gloves, has done me the honour to lay saw her; so I gave a spring to one side to

THROUGH FRANCE AND ITALY.
let her pass--she had done the same, and
on the same side too; so we ran our heads
together : she instantly got to the other
side to get out; I was just as unfortunate
as she had been, for I had sprung to that
side, and opposed her passage again.-We
both flew together to the other side, and
then back-and so on-it was ridiculous ;
we both blushed intolerably : so I did at
last the thing I should have done at firstI stood stock still, and the Marquisina had
no more difficulty. I had no power to go
into the room, till I had made her so much
reparation as to wait and follow her with
my eye to the end of the passage. She
looked back twice, and walked along it
rather sideways, as if she would make
room for any one coming up stairs to pass
her.-No, said 1-that's a vile translation :
the Marquisina has a right to the best
apology I can make her, and that opening
is left for me to do it in ;-so I ran and
begged pardon for the embarrassment I
had given her, saying it was my intention
to have made her way. She answered,
she was guided by the same intention towards me;-so we reciprocally thanked
each other. She was at the top of the
stairs; and seeing no chichesbee near her,
I begged to hand her to her coach;-so
we went down the stairs, stopping at every
third step to talk of the concert and the
adventure.-Upon my word, Madam, said
I, when I had handed her in, I made six
different efforts to let you go out.-And I
made six efforts, replied she, to let you
enter.--I wish to heaven you would make
a seventh, said I.--With all my heart, said
she, making room.-Life is too short to
be long about the forms of it;-so 1 instantly stepped in, and she carried me
home with her.-And what became of the
concert? St. Cecilia, who I suppose was
at it, knows more than I.
I will only add, that the connexion
which arose out of the translation gave
me more pleasure than any one I had the
honour to make in Italy.
THE DWARF.
Paris.
I HADnever heard the remark made by
any one in my life except by one; and
who that was will probably come out in
this chapter; so that being pretty much
unprepossessed, there must have been
grounds for what struck me the moment
I cast my eyes over the parterre-and
that
was, the unaccountable sport of nature in
forming such numbers of dwarfs.-No
doubt she sports at certain times in almost
every corner of the world; but in Paris
there is no end to her amusements.-The
goddess seems almost as merry as she is
wise.
As I carried my idea out of the Opra
Comique with me, I measured every body
I saw walking in the streets by it.-Melancholy application! especially where the
size was extremely little-the face extremely dark-the eyes quick-the nose

19

long-the teeth white-the jaw prominent
-- to see so many miserables, by force of
accidents driven out of their own proper
class into the very verge of another, which
it gives me pain to write down:-every
third man a pigmy!-some by rickety
heads and hump backs-others by bandy
legs-a third set arrested by the hand of
Nature in the sixth and seventh years of
their growth-a fourth, in their perfect
and natural state like dwarf apple trees
from the first rudiments and stamina of
their existence, never meant to grow
higher.
A medical traveller might say, 'tis owing
to undue bandages-a splenetic one, to
want of air-and an inquisitive traveller,
to fortify the system, may measure the
height of their houses-the narrowness of
their streets, and in how few feet square
in the sixth and seventh stpries such
numbers of the Bourgeoisie eat and sleep
together; but I remember Mr. Shandy
the elder, who accounted for nothing like
any body else, in speaking one evening of
these matters, averred that children, like
other animals, might be increased almost
to any size, provided they came right into
the world: but the misery was, the citizens of Paris were so cooped up, that they
had not actually room enough to get them.
-1 do not call it getting any thing, said
he;-'tis getting nothing.-Nay, continued he, rising in his argument, 'tis getting worse than nothing, when all you
have got after twenty or five and twenty
years of the tenderest care and most nutritious aliment bestowed upon it, shall not
at last be as high as my leg. Now, Mr.
Shandy being very short, there could be
nothing more said of it.
As this is not a work of reasoning I
leave the solution as I found it, and con.
tent myself with the truth only of the
remark, which is verified in every lane
and by-lane of Paris. I was walking down
that which leads from the Carousel to the
Palais Royal, and observing a little boy in
some distress at the side of the gutter
which ran down the middle of it, I took
hold of his hand and helped him over.
Upon turning up his face to look at him
after, I perceived he was about forty.Never mind, said I, some good body will
do as much for me when I am ninety.
I feel some little principles within me
which incline me to be merciful towards
this poor blighted part of my species, who
have neither size nor strength to get on in
the world.-I cannot bear to see one of
them trod upon; and had scarce got seated
beside my old French officer, ere the disgust was exercised, by seeing the very
thing happen under the box we sat in.
At the end of the orchestra, and betwixt that and the first side box, there is
a small esplanade left, where, when the
house is full, numbers of all ranks take
sanctuary. Though you stand, as in the
parterre,you pay the same price as in the
orchestra. A poor defenceless being of
this order had got thrust somehow or other
into this luckless place-the night was hot,

20

A SENTIMENTAL JOURNEY

and he was surrounded by beings two feet
and a half higher than himself. The
dwarf suffered inexpressibly on all sides;
but the thing which incommoded him
most, was a tall corpulent German, near
seven feet high, who stood directly betwixt
him and all possibility of his seeing either
the stage or the actors. The poor dwarf
did all he could to get a peep at what was
going forwards, by seeking for some little
opening betwixt the German's arm and
his body, trying first on one side, then the
other; but the German stood square in the
most unaccommodating posture that can
be imagined:-the dwarf might as well
have been placed at the bottom of the
deepest draw-well in Paris; so he civilly
reached up his hand to the German's
sleeve, and told him his distress.-The
German turned his head back, looked
town upon him as Goliath did upon David
-and unfflingly resumed his posture.
I was just then taking a pinch of snuff
out of my monk's little horn box.-And
how would thy meek and courteous spirit,
my dear monk! so tempered to bear and
forbear!-how sweetly would it have lent
an ear to this poor soul's complaint :
The old French officer, seeing me lift up
my eyes with an emotion, as I made the
apostrophe, took the liberty to ask me
what was the matter.-I told him the
story in three words ; and added, how inhuman it was.
By this time the dwarf was driven to
extremes, and in his first transports, which
are generally unreasonable, had told the
German he would cut of his long queue
with his knife.-The German looked back
coolly, and told him he was welcome, if he
could reach it.
An injury sharpened by an insult, be it
to whom it will, makes every man of sentiment a party : I could have leaped out of
the box to have redressed it.-The old
French officer did it with much less confusion; for leaning a little over, and nodding to a sentinel, and pointing at the
same time with his finger at the distressthe sentinel made his way to it.-There
was no occasion to tell the grievance-the
thing told itself; so thrusting back the
German instantly with his musket-he
took the poor dwarf by the hand, and
placed him before him.-This is noble!
said I, clapping my hands together.-And
yet you would not permit this, said the
old officer, in England.
-In England, dear Sir, said I, we sit all
at our ease.
The old French officer would have set
me at unity with myself, in case I had
been at variance,-by saying it was a bon
mot;-and, as a bon mot is always worth
something at Paris, he offered me a pinch
of snuff:

of "Haut les mains, Monsieur l' Ab,"'
re-echoed from a dozen different parts of
the parterre,was as unintelligible to me,
as my apostrophe to the monk had been to
him.
He told me it was some poor Abbe in
one of the upper loges, who he supposed
had got planted perdu behind a couple o,
grisettes in order to see the opera, and that
the parterre espying him, were insisting
upon his holding up both his hands during
the representation.-And can it be supposed, said I, that an ecclesiastic would
pick the grisettes' pockets? The old
French officer smiled, and whispering in
my ear, opened a door of knowledge which
I had no idea of.
Good God! said I, turning pale with
astonishment-is it possible, that a people
so smit with sentiment should at the same
time be so unclean, and so unlike themselves-Quelle grosirete! added I.
The French officer told me, it was an
illiberal sarcasm at the church, which had
begun in the theatre about the time the
Tartuffe was given in it by Moliere: but
like other remains of Gothic manners,
was declining.-Every nation, continued
he, have their refinements and grosidretes,
in which they take the lead, and lose it of
one another by turns :-that he had been
in most countries, but never in one where
he found not some delicacies, which others
seemed to want. Le pour et le contre se
trouvent echaque nation; there is a alance, said he, of good and bad every
where; and nothing but the knowing it is
so, can emancipate one half of the world
from the prepossession which it holds
against the other:-that the advantage of
travel, as it regarded the savoir vivre, was
by seeing a great deal both of men and
manners : it taught us mutual toleration;
and mutual toleration, concluded he, making me a bow, taught us mutual love.
The old French officer delivered this
with an air of such candour and good
sense, as coincided with my first favourable impressions of his character :-1I
thought I loved the man; but I fear I mistook the object ;-'twas my own way of
thinking-the difference was, I could not
have expressed it half so well.
It is alike troublesome to both the rider
and his beast-if the latter goes pricking
up his ears, and starting all the way at
every object which he never saw before.I have as little torment of this kind as any
creature alive; and yet I honestly confess,
that many a thing gave me pain, and that
I blushed at many a word the first month
-which I found inconsequentandperfectly
innocent the second.
Madame de Rambouillet, after an acquaintance of about six weeks with her,
had done me the honour to take me in
her coach about two leagues out of town.
THE ROSE.
-Of all women, Madame de Rambouillet
is the most correct; and I never wish to
Paris.
see one of more virtues and purity of
heart.-In our return back, Madame de
IT was now my turn to ask the old French Rambouillet desired me to pull the cordofficer" What was the matter ?" for a cry I asked her if she wanted any thing.-

THROUGH

Ries que de pisser, said Madame

FRANCE AND ITALY.
de Ram-

bouillet.
Grieve not, gentle traveller, to let Madam de Rambouillet piss on.-And ye fair
mystic nymphs! go each one pluck your
rose, and scatter them in your path-for
Madame de Rambouillet did no more.--I
handed Madame de Rambouillet out of
the coach; and had I been the priest of
the chaste Castalia, I could not have served
at her fountain with a more respectful
decorum.
THE FILLE DE CHAMBRE,
Paris.
the old French officer had delivered
upon travelling, bringing Polonius's advice
to his son upon the same subject into my
head-and that bringing in Hamlet, and
Hamlet the rest of Shakspeare's works, I
stopped at the Quai de Conti in my return
home, to purchase the whole set.
The bookseller said he had not a set in
the world. Comment I said I, taking one
up out of a set which lay upon the counter
betwixt us. He said they were sent him
only to be got bound, and were to be sent
back to Versailles in the morning to the
Count de B****.
-And does the Count de B****, said
I, read Shakspeare ? C'est un esprit fort,
replied the bookseller. He loves English
books! and what is more to his honour,
Monsieur, he loves the English too. You
speak this so civilly, said I, that it is
enough to oblige an Englishman to lay out
a Louis d'or or two at your shop.-Thebookseller made a bow, and was going to say
something, when a young decent girl
about twenty, who by her air and dress
seemed to be fille de chambre to some
devout woman of fashion, came into the
shop and asked for Les Egarements du
Casr et de l'Esprit: the bookseller gave
her the book directly; she palled out a
little green satin purse run round with a
riband of the same colour, and putting her
finger and thumb into it, she took out the
money, and paid for it. As I had nothing
more to stay me in the shop, we both
walked out at the door together.
-And what have you to do, my dear,
said I, with The Wanderingsof the Heart,
who scarce know yet you have one? nor,
till love has first told you it, or some faithless shepherd has made it ache, canst thou
garde!
ever be sure it is so.-Le Diesum'Wen
said the girl.-With reason, said I, for if it
is a good one, 'tis pity it should be stolen;
'tis a little treasure to thee, and gives a
better air to your face, than if it was
dressed out with pearls,
The young girl listened with a submissive attention, holding her satin purse by
.ts riband in her hand all the time.-'Tis
a very small one, said I, taking hold of
the bottom of it-(she held it towards me)
-and there is very little in it, my dear,
said I; but be but as good as thou art
handsome, and Heaven will fill it. I had
a parcel of crowns in my hand to pay for
WHAT

21

Shakspeare; and, as she had let go the
purse entirely, I put a single one in; and,
tying up the riband in a bow knot, return.
ed it to her.
The young girl made me more an humble
courtesy than a low one:-'twas one o
those quiet, thankful sinkings, where the
spirit bows itself down-the body does no
more than tell it. I never gave a girl a
crown in my life which gave me half the
pleasure.
My advice, my dear, would not have
been worth a pin to you, said 1, if I had
not given this along with it: but now,
when you see the crown, you'll remember
it :-so don't, my dear, lay it out in ri.
bands.
Upon my word, Sir, said the girl, ear.
nestly, I am incapable;-in saying which,
as is usual in little bargains of honour, she
gave me her hand :-En vrits, Monsieur,
je mettrai cet argent apart,said she.
When a virtuous convention is made
betwixt man and woman, it sanctifies their
most private walks : so notwithstanding it
was dusky, yet as both our roads lay the
same way, we made no scruple of walking
along the Quai de Conti together.
She made me a second courtesy in setting off, and before we got twenty yards
from the door, as if she had not done
enough before, she made a sort of a little
stop to tell me again-she thanked me.
It was a small tribute, I told her, which
I could not avoid paying to virtue, and
would not be mistaken in the person I had
been rendering it to for the world ;-but I
see innocence, my dear, in your face-and
foul befall the man who ever lays a snare
in its way.
The girl seemed affected some way or
other with what I said ;-she gave a low
sigh :-1 found 1 was not empowered to
inquire at all after it-so said nothing more
till I got to the corner of the Rue de Nevers, where we were to part.
-But is this the way, my dear, said I,
to the Hotel de Modene ? she told me it
was-or that I might go by the Rue de
Gueneguaud, which was the next turn.Then I'll go, my dear, by the Rue de
Gueneguaud, said I, for two reasons; first,
I shall please myself, and next, I shall give
you the protection of my company as far
on your way as I can. The girl was sensible I was civil-and said, she wished the
Hotel de Modene was in the Rue de St.
Pierre.-You live there ? said I.-She told
me she was fille de chambre to Madam
R****.-Good God! said I, 'tis the very
lady for whom I have brought a letter
from Amiens.-The girl told me that Madam R****, she believed, expected a
stranger with a letter, and was impatient
to see him:--so I desired the girl to present my compliments to Madam R****,
and say, 1 would certainly wait upon her
in the morning.
We stood still at the corner of the Rue
de Nevers whilst this passed.-We then
stopped a moment whilst she disposed oat
her Egaremens du Cceur, &c. more commodiously than carrying them in her hand
Y

22

A SENTIMENTAL JOURNEY

-they were two volumes : so I held the
second for her whilst she put the first into
her pocket; and then she held her pocket,
and I put in the other after it.
'Tis sweet to feel by what fine spun
threads our affections are drawn together.
We set off afresh, and as she took her
third step, the girl put her hand within
my arm.--I was just bidding her-but she
did it of herself with that undeliberating
simplicity, which showed it was out of her
head that she had never seen me before.
For my own part, I felt the conviction of
consanguinity so strongly, that I could not
help turning half round to look in her face,
and see if I could trace out any thing in it
of a family likeness.-Tut ! said I, are we
not all relations ?
When we arrived at the turning up of
the Rue de Gueneguaud, I stopped to bid
her adieu for good and all: the girl would
thank me again for my company and kindness.-She bid me adieu twice.-I repeated
it as often; and so cordial was the parting
between us, that had it happened any
where else, I'm not sure but I should have
signed it with a kiss of charity, as warm
and holy as an apostle.
But in Paris, as none kiss each other
but the men-I did, what amounted to
the same thing-1I bid God bless her.
THE PASSPORT.
Paris.
WHEN I got home to my hotel, La Fleur
told me I had been inquired after by the
Lieutenant de Police.-The deuce take it!
said I-I know the reason. It is time the
reader should know it, for in the order of
things in which it happened, it was omit.
ted : not that it was out of my head; but
that had I told it then it might have been
forgotten now-and now is the time i want
it.
I had left London with so much precipitation, that it never entered my mind that
we were at war with France; and had
reached Dover, and looked through my
glass at the hills beyond Boulogne, before
the idea presented itself; and with this in
its train, that there was no getting there
without a passport. Go but to the end of
a street, I have a mortal aversion for returning back no wiser than I set out; and
as this was one of the greatest efforts I
had ever made for knowledge, I could less
bear the thoughts of it : so hearing the
Count de **** had hired the packet, I
begged he would take me in his suite.
The Count had some little knowledge of
me, so made little or no difficulty-only
said, his inclination to serve me could
reach farther than Calais, as he was to
no
return by way of Brussels to Paris; however, when I had once passhd there, I
might get to Paris without interruption :
but that in Paris I must make friends and
shift for myself.-Let me get to Paris, Monsieur leCount, said I-and I shall do very
well. So I embarked, and never thought
amore of the matter.

When La Fleur told me the Lieutenant
de Police had been inquiring after me-the
thing instantly occurred ;-and by the
time La Fleur had well told me, the mas.
ter of the hotel came into my room to tell
me the same thing, with this addition to it,
that my passport had been particularly
asked after : the master of the hotel concluded with saying, He hoped I had one.
-Not I, faith ! said 1.
The master of the hotel retired three
steps from me as from an infected person,
as I declared this-and poor La Fleur advanced three steps towards me, and with
that sort of movement which a good soul
makes to succour a distressed one;-the
fellow won my heart by it; and from that
single trait I knew his character as perfectly, and could rely upon it as firmly, as
if he had served me with fidelity for seven
years.
Mon seigneur ! cried the master of the
hotel; but recollecting himself as he made
the exclamation, he instantly changed the
tone of it-If Monsieur, said he, has not a
passport (apparemment) in all likelihoodhe
has friends in Paris who can procure him
one.-Not that I know of, quoth I, with
an air of indifference.-Then certes, replied
he, you'll be sent to the Bastile or the
Chatelet au moins.-Poo ! said I, the King
of France is a good natured soul-he'll
hurt nobody.-Cela n' emplche pas, said he
-you will certainly be sent to the Bastile
to-morrow morning.-But I've taken your
lodgings for a month, answered I, and I'll
not quit them a day before the time for all
the kings of France in the world. La
Fleur whispered in my ear, That nobody
could oppose the king of France.
Pardi! said my host, ces Messieurs An,
glois sont des gens tres extraordinaires;and having both said and sworn it-he
went out.
THE PASSPORT.
The Hotel at Paris.
I COULD find in my heart to torture La
not
Fleur's with a serious look upon the subject of my embarrassment, which was the
reason I had treated it so cavalierly: and
to show him how light it lay upon my
dropt the subject entirely; and
mind,
whilst he waited upon me at supper, talked
to him with more than usual gayety about
Paris, and of the opera comique.-La Fleur
had been there himself, and had followed
me through the streets as far as the bookseller's shop; but seeing me come out with
the young fdle de chambre, and that we
walked down the Quai de Conti together,
La Fleur deemed it unnecessary to follow
me a step further;-so making his own reflections upon it, he took a shorter cutand got to the hotel in time to be informed of the affair of the police against my
arrival.
As soon as the honest creature had taken
away and gone down to sup himself, I then
began to think a little seriously about my
situation.

J

TIIROUGH FRANCE AND ITALY.
-And here, I know, Eugenius, thou
wilt smile at the remembrance of a short
dialogue which passed betwixt us the moinent 1 was going to set out:-! must tell
it here.
Eugenius, knowing that I was as little
subject to be overburdened with money as
thought, had drawn me aside to interrogate me how much Ijhad taken care for.
Upon telling him the exact sum, Eugenius
shook his head, and said it would not do;
so pulled out his purse in order to empty it
into mine.-I've enough in conscience,
Eugenius, said I.-Indeed, Yorick, you
have not, replied Eugenius ;-1 know
France and Italy better than you.-But
you don't consider, Eugenius, said 1, refusing his offer, that before I have been
three days in Paris, I shall take care to say
or do something or other for which I shall
get clapped up into the Bastile, and that I
shall live there a couple of months entirely
at the king of France's expense.-I beg
pardon, said Eugenius drily: really I
had forgot that resource,
Now the event I treated gaily came seriously to my door.
Is it folly, or nonchalance, or philosophy,
or pertinacity-or what is it in me, that,
after all, when La Fleur had gone down
stairs, and I was quite alone, I could not
bring down my mind to think of it otherwise than I had then spoken of it to Eugenius.
-And as for the Bastile ! the terror is
in the word.-Make the most of it you can,
said 1 to myself, the Bastile is but another
word for a tower-and a tower is but another word for a house you can't get out of.
-- Mercy on the gouty for they are in it
twice a year.-but with nine livres a day,
and pen and ink, and paper and patience,
albeit a mani can't get out, he may do very
well within-at least for a month or six
weeks; at the end of which, if he is a
harmless fellow, his innocence appears, and
he comes out a better and wiser man than
he went in.
I had some occasion (I forget what) to
step into the court-yard as I settled this ac.
count; and remember I walked down
stairs in no small triumph with the conceit
of my reasoning.-Beshrew thesombrepen.
cil! said I, vauntingly-for I envy not its
powers, which paints the evils of life with
so hard and deadly a colouring. The mind
sits terrified at the objects she has magni.
fled herself, and blackened : reduce them
to their proper size and hue, she overlooks
them.-'Tis true, said I, correcting the
proposition-the Bastile is not an evil to be
despised ;-but strip it of its towers-fill up
the fosse-unbarricade the doors-call it
simply a confinement, and suppose 'tis some
tyrant of a distemper-and not of a man,
which holds you in it-the evil vanishes,
and you bear the other half without com.
plaint
I was interrupted in the heyday of this
soliloquy, with a voice which 1 took to be
of a child, which complained it could not
get out.-I looked up and down the pas.
sage, and seeing neither man, woman, nor

!

23

child, I went out without farther atten
tion.
In my return back through the passage,
I heard the same words repeated twice
over; and, looking up, I saw it was a
starling hung in a little cage.-" I can't
get out-I can't get out," said the starling.
I stood looking at the bird: and to every
person who came through the passage it
ran fluttering to the side towards which
they approached it, with the same lamen.
tation of its captivity.-" I can't get out,"
said the starling.-God help thee! said I,
but I'll let thee out, cost what it will; so 1
turned about the cage to get to the door:
it was twisted and double twisted so fast
with wire, there was no getting it open
without pulling the cage to pieces.-I took
both hands to it.
The bird flew to the place where I was
attempting his deliverance, and thrusting
his head through the trellis pressed his
breast against it as if impatient.-I fear,
poor creature! said I, I cannot set thee at
liberty.-" No," said the starling,-" I
can't get out-I can't get out," said the
starling.
I vow I never had my affections more
tenderly awakened; nor do I remember an
incident in my life, where the dissipated
spirits, to which my reason had been a
bubble, were so suddenly called home.
Mechanical as the notes were, yet so true
in tune to nature were they chanted, that
in one moment they overthrew all my systematic reasonings upon the Bastile; and
I heavily walked up stairs, unsaying every
word I had said in going down them.
Disguise thyself as thou wilt, still, Slavery ! said I---still thou art a bitter
draught ! and though thousands in all ages
have been made to drink of thee, thou art
no less bitter on that account.-'Tis thou,
thrice sweet and gracious goddess, addressing myself to Liberty, whom all in public
or in private worship, whose taste is grateful, and ever will be so, till Nature herself
shall change.-No tint of words can spot
thy snowy mantle, or chymic power turn
thy sceptre into iron;-with thee to smile
upon him as he eats his crust, the swain is
happier than his monarch, from whose
court thou art exiled.-Gracious Heaven!
cried 1, kneeling down upon the last step
but one in my ascent, grant me but health,
thou great Bestower of it, and give me but
this fair goddess as my companion-and
shower down thy mitres, if it seems good
unto thy divine providence, upon those
heads which are aching for them.
THE CAPTIVE.
Paris
bird in his cage pursued me into my
room; I sat down close to my table, and
leaning my head upon my hand, I began to
figure to myself the miseries of confine.
ment. I was in a right frame for it, and
so I gave full scope to my imagination,
I was going to begin with the millions of
my fellow-creatures, born to no inhezitance
THE

Y2

24

A SENTIMENTAL JOURNEY

but slavery : but finding, however affecting
the picture was, that I could not bring it
near me, and that the multitude of sad
groupes in it did but distract me,
-1 took a single captive, and having first
shut him up in his dungeon, I then looked
through the twilight of his grated door to
take his picture.
I beheld his body half wasted away with
expectation and confinement, and felt
what kind of sickness of the heart it was
which arises from hope deferred. Upon
looking nearer I saw him pale and feverish: in thirty years the western breeze had
not once fanned his blood ;-.he
had seen
no sun, no moon in all that time-nor had
the voice of friend or kinsman breathed
through his lattice !-.his children-.But here my heart began to bleed-and
I was forced to go on with another part of
the portrait.
He was sitting upon the ground upon a
little straw, in the furthest corner of his
dungeon, which was alternately his chair
and bed: a little calendar of small sticks
were laid at the head, notched all over with
the dismal days and nights he had passed
there; he had one of these little sticks in
his hand, and with a rusty nail he was
etching another day of misery to add to
the heap. As I darkened the little light he
had, he lifted up a hopeless eye towards
the door, then cast it down.-shook his
head, and went on with his work of affliction. I heard his chains upon his legs, as
he turned his body to lay his little stick
upon the bundle.-He gave a deep sigh.-I
saw the iron enter into his soul !-I burst
":ito
tears.-I could not sustain the picture
of confinement which my fancy had drawn.
-I started up from my chair, and calling
La Fleur, I bid him bespeak me a remise,
and have it ready at the door of the hotel
by nine in the morning.
I'll go directly, said I to myself, to Mon.
sieur Due de Choiseul.
le
La Fleur would have put me to bed; but
-not willing he should see any thing upon
my cheek which would cost the honest fellow a heart-ache-1 told him I would go
to bed by myself--and bid him go do the

,long

THE STARLING.
Road to Versailles.
I GOT
into my remise the hour I proposed :
La Fleur got up behind, and I bid the
coachman make the best of his way to
Versailles.
As there was nothing in this road, or
rather nothing which I look for in travelling, I cannot fill up the blank better than
with a short history of this self'sane bird,
which became the subject of the last chapter.
Whilst the Honourable Mr. **** was

waiting for a wind at Dover, it had been
caught upon the cliffs, before it tould well
fly, by an English lad who was his groom;
who, not caring to destroy it, had taken it
in his breast into the packet; and, by

course of feeding it, and taking it once
under his protection, ina day or two grew
fond of it, and got it safe along with him
to Paris.
At Paris the lad had laid out a livre in
a little cage for the starling, and as he had
little to do better the five months his master staid there, he taught it in his mother's
tongue the four simple words-(and no
more)-to which I owned myself so much
its debtor.
Upon his master's going on for Italy,
the lad had given it to the master of the
hotel. But his
little song for liberty being
in an unknown language at Paris, the bird
had little or no store set by him: so La
Fleur bought both him and his cage for
me for a bottle of Burgundy.
In my return from Italy I brought him
with me to the country, in whose language
he had learned his notes; and telling the
story of him to Lord A., Lord A. begged
the bird of me ;-in a week Lord A. gave
him to Lord B; Lord B. made a present
of him to Lord C; and Lord C.'s gentleman sold him to Lord D.'s for a shilling;
-Lord D. gave him to lord E.; and so on
-half round the alphabet. From that
rank he passed into the lower house, and
passed the hands of as many commoners.
But as all these wanted to get in,and my
bird wanted to get out, had almost as
he
little store set by him in London as at
Paris.
is impossible but many of my readers
must have heard of him; and if any by
mere chance have ever seen him, I beg
leave to inform them, that that bird was
my bird, or some vile copy set up to represent him.
I have nothing farther to add upon him,
but that from that time to this I have
borne this poor starling as the crest to my
arms.-And let the herald's officers twist
his neck about if they dare.

It

THE ADDRESS.
Versailles.
I SHOULD not like to have my enemy take
a view of my mind when I am going to
ask protection of any man; for which
reason I generally endeavour to protect
myself; but this going to Monsieur le
Due de C**
was an act of compulsion;
had it been an act of choice, I should
have done it, I suppose, like other peo.
ple.
How many mean plans of dirty address,
as I went along, did my servile heart form !
I deserved the Bastile for every one of
them.
Then nothing would serve me when I
got within sight of Versailles, but putting
words and sentences together, and conceiving attitudes and tones to wreath myself into Monsieur le Duc de C****'s
good graces.-This will do, said I.-Just as
well, retorted I again, as a coat carried up
to him by an adventurous tailor, without
taking his measure. Fool! continued Isee Monsieur leDuc's face first ;-observe

*e

i niLOUGH FRANCE AND ITALY.
what character is written in it ;-take
notice in what posture he stands to hear
you ;-mark the turns and expressions of
his body and limbs-and for the tone,-the
first sound which comes from his lips will
give it you; and from all these together
you'll compound an address at once upon
the spot, which cannot disgust the Duke;
-- the ingredients are his own, and most
likely to go down.
Well! said I, I wish it well over.Coward again ! as if man to man was not
equal throughout the whole surface of the
globe; and if in the field-why not face
to face in the cabinet too? And trust me,
Yorick, whenever it is not so, man is false
to himself and betrays his own succours
ten times where nature does it once. Go
to the Due de C*** with the Bastile in
thy looks ;-my life for it, thou wilt be sent
backto Paris in half an hour with an escort.
I believe so, said I.-Then I'll go to the
Duke by Heaven ! with all the gayety and
debonairness in the world,
-And there you are wrong again, relied I.- A heart at ease, Yorick, flies
into no extremes-'tis ever on its centre.Well ! well ! cried I, as the coachman
turned in at the gates, I find I shall do
very well: and by the time he had wheeled round the court, and brought me up
to the door, I found myself so much the
better for my own lecture, that I neither
ascended the steps like a victim to justice,
who was to part with life upon the topmast
-nor did I mount them with a skip and a
couple of strides, as I do when I fly up,
Eliza ! to thee to meet it.
As I entered the door of the saloon I
was met by a person, who possibly might
be the maitre d'hotel, but had more the
air of one of the under secretaries, who
told me the Du de CW*** was busy. I
e
am utterly ignorant, said I, of the forms
of obtaining an audience, being an abso
lute stranger, and what is worse in the
present conjuncture of affairs, being an
Englishman too.-He replied, that did nt
increase the difficulty.-I made him a
slight bow, and told him, I had something
of importance to say to Monsieur le Duc.
The secretary looked towards the stairs,
as if he was about to leave me to carry up
this account to some one.-But I must
not mislead you, said I,-for what I have
to say is of no manner of importance to
Monsieur le Duc de Ca,***-but of great
importance to myself.-C'est une autre
aff
replied he.-Not at all, said I, to a
man of gallantry.-But pray, good sir,
continued 1, when can a stranger hope to
have access ?-In not less than two hours,
said he, looking at his watch. The number of equipages in the court-yard seemed
to justify the calculation, that I could
have no nearer a prospect ;-and as walking backwards and forwards in the saloon,
without a soul to commune with, was for
the time as bad as being in the Bastile
itself, I instantly went back to my remise,
and bid the coachman drive me to the
Cordon Bleu, which was the nearest ho.
tel.

aire,

25

I think there is a fatality in it ;-1 seldom go to the place I set out for.
LE PATISSIER.
Versailles.
BEFORE I had got half way down the
street I changed my mind: as I am at
Versailles, thought I, I might as well take
a view of the
town; so I pulled the cord,
and ordered the coachman to drive round
some of the principal streetsI suppose
the town is not very large, said
coachman begged pardon for setting me
right, and told me, it was very superb, and
that numbers of the first dukes and marquisses and counts had hotels-The Count
d B****, of whom the bookseller at the
Quai de Conti had spoke so handsomely
the night before, came instantly into my
mind.-And why should I not go, thought
1, to the Count de B*** , who has so
high an idea of English books and English men-and tell him my story? so I
changed my mind a second time.--In truth
it was he third; for I had intended that
day for Madam de R**** in the Rue St.
Pierre, and had devoutly sent her word by
her.le de chambre that 1 would assuredly
wait upon her ;-but I am governed by
circumstances-I cannot govern them: so
seeing a man standing with a basket on
the other side of te street, as if lie had
something to sell, I bid La Fleur go up to
him, and inquire for the Count's hotel.
La Fleur returned a little pale ; and
todd me it was a Chevalier de St. Loais
selling pdts.-It is impossible, La Fleur
said I.-La Fleur could no more account
for the phenomenon than myself; bat persited in his story : he had seen. the croix
set in gold, with its red riband, he said,
tied to his buttonhole-and had looked
into the basket and seen the pts
which
the Chevalier was selling; so could not be
mistaken in that.
Such a reverse in man's life awakens a
better principle than curiosity: I could
not help looking for some time at him as
sat in the remise :-the more I looked at
him, his croix, and his basket, the stronger
they wove themselves into my brain.-I
got out of the remise, and went towards
him.
He was begirt with a clean linen apron
which fell below his knees, and with a
sort of a bib that went half way up his
breast ; upon the top of this, but a little
below the hem, hung his croix. His basket
of little pates was covered over with a
white damask napkin ; another of the
same kind was spread at the bottom ; and
there was a look of proprete and neatness
throughout, that one might have bought
his pates of him, as much from appetite as
sentiment.
He made an offer of them to neither ';
but stood still with them at the corner o
a hotel, for those to buy who chose it
without solicitation.
He was about forty-eight-of a sedate
look, something approaching to gravity

I.-The

26

A SENTIMENTAL JOURNEY

I did not wonder.-I went up rather to
the basket than him, and having lifted up
the napkin, and taking one of his pstes
into my hand-I begged he would explain
the appearance which affected me.
He told me in a few words, that the best
part of his life had passed in the service,
in which, after spending a small patrimony,
he had obtained a company and the croix
with it; but that, at the conclusion of the
last peace, his regiment being reformed,
and the whole corps, with those of some
other regiments, left without any provision, he found himself in a wide world
without friends, without a livre ;-and indeed, said he, without any thing but this(pointing, as he said it, to his croix).-The
poor Chevalier won my pity, and he finished the scene with winning my esteem too.
The king, he said, was the most generous of princes, but his generosity could
neither relieve nor reward every one, and
it was only his misfortune to be amongst
the number. He had a little wife, he said,
whom he loved, who did the pstisserie;
and added, he felt no dishonour in defending her and himself from want in this
way-unless Providence had offered him a
better.
It would be wicked to withhold a pleasure from the good, in passing over what
happened to this poor Chevalier of St.
Louis about nine months after.
It seems he usually took his stand near
the iron gates which lead up to the palace,
and as his croix had caught the eye of
numbers, numbers had made the same inquiry which I had done.-He had told
them the same story, and always with so
much modesty and good sense, that it had
reached at last the king's ears;-who,
hearing the Chevalier had been a gallant
officer, and respected by the whole regiment as a man of honour and integrityhe broke up his little trade by a pension of
fifteen hundred livres a year.
As I have told this to please the reader,
I beg he will allow me to relate another,
out of its order, to please myself-the two
stories reflect light upon each other-and
'tis a pity they should be parted.
THE SWORD.
Rennes.
states and empires have their pe.riods of declension, and feel in their turns
what distress and poverty is--I stop not to
tell the causes which gradually brought
the house d'E**** in Brittany into decay.
The Marquis d'E**** had fought up
against his condition with great firmness ;
wishing to preserve, and still show to the
world, some little fragments of what his
ancestors had been-their indiscretions had
put it out of his power. There was enough
left for the little exigencies of obscurity.But he had two boys who looked up to him
for light ;-he thought they deserved it.
He had tried his sword-it could not open
the way-the mountain was too expensive
-and simple economy was not a match
WHEN

for it ;-there was no resource but com
merce.
In any other province in France, save
Brittany, this was smiting the root for ever
of the little tree his pride and affection
wished to see reblossom.-But in Brittany,
there being a provision for this, he availed
himself of it; and, taking an occasion
when the states were assembled at Rennes,
the Marquis, attended with his two boys,
entered the court; and having pleaded the
right of an ancient law of the dutchy,
which, though seldom claimed, he said,
was no less in force, he took his sword from
his side.-Here, said he, take it; and be
trusty guardians of it, till better times put
me in condition to reclaim it.
The president accepted the Marquis's
sword-he staid a few minutes to see it deposited in the archives of his house-and
departed.
The Marquis and his whole family embarked the next day for Martinico, and in
about nineteen or twenty years of success.ful application to business, with some unlooked for bequests from distant branches
of his house, returned home to reclaim his
nobility, and to support it.
It was an incident of good fortune which
will never happen to any traveller but a
sentimental one, that I should be at Rennes at the very time of this solemn requisi.
tion : I call it solemn-it was so to me.
The Marquis entered the court with his
whole family: he supported his lady, his
eldest son supported his sister, and his
youngest was at the other extreme of the
line next his mother;-he put his handkerchief to his face twice-There was a dead silence. When the
Marquis had approached within six paces
of the tribunal, he gave the Marchioness
to his youngest son, and advancing three
steps before his family-he reclaimed his
sword. His sword was given him, and the
moment he got it into his hand he drew it
almost out of the scabbard ;-'twas the
shining face of a friend he had once given
up-he looked attentively along it, beginning at the hilt, as if to see whether it was
the same-when, observing a little rust
which it had contracted near the point, he
brought it near his eye, and bending his
head down over it-I think I saw a tear
fall upon the place : I could not be deceived by what followed.
"I shall find," said he, "some otherway
to get it off."
When the Marquis had said this, he returned his sword into its scabbard, made a
bow to the guardians of it-and with his
wife and daughter, and his twosons following him, walked out.
O how I envied him his feelings!
THE PASSPORT.
Versailles.
I FOUND no difficulty in getting admittance
to Monsieur leCount de B****. The set
of Shakspeares was laid upon the table,
and he was tumbling them over. I walked

THROUGH FRANCE AND ITALY.
up close to the table, and giving first such
a look at the books as to make him con.
ceive I knew what they were-I told him
I had come without any one to present me,
knowing I should meet with a friend in
his apartment, who, 1 trusted, would do it
for me :--it is my countryman, the great
Shakspeare, said I, pointing to his works-et agez la bont, mon cher ami, apostrophizing his spirit, added I, de mefazre cet honneur-l,-The Count smiled at the singularity of
the introduction; and seeing I looked a
little pale and sickly, insisted upon my
taking an arm chair; so I sat down; and
to save him conjectures upon a visit so out
of all rule, I told him simply of the incident in the bookseller's shop, and how that
had impelled me rather to go to him with
the story of a little embarrassment I was
under, than to any other man in France.
-- And what is your embarrassment? let
me hear it, said the Count. So I told
him the story just as I have told it the
reader.
-And the master of my hotel, said I, as
I concluded it, will needs have it, MQnsieur le Count, that I shall be sent to the
Bastile--but I have no apprehensions, continued I ;-for, in falling into the hands of
the most polished people in the world, and
being conscious I was a true man, and not
come to spy the nakedness of the land, I
scarce thought I lay at their mercy.-It
does not suit the gallantry of the French,
Monsieur le Count, said I, to show it
against invalids.
An animated blush came into the Count
de B****'s cheeks as I spoke this.-Ne
craignez rien.-Don't fear, said he.-Indeed, I don't, replied I again.-Besides,
continued I, a little sportingly, I have
come laughing all the way from London to
Paris, and I do not think Monsieur le Duc
de Choiseul is such an enemy to mirth as
to send me back crying for my pains.
-My
application to you, Monsieur le
Count de B**** (making him a low bow),
is to desire he will not.
The Count heard me with great good nature, or I had not said half as much-and
once or twice said C'est bien dit. So I
rested my cause there-and determined ib
say no more about it.
The Count led the discourse : we talked
of indifferent things-of books, and politics,
and men-and then of women.-God bless
them all ! said I, after much discourse
about them-there is not a man upon
earth who loves them so much as I do :
after all the foibles I have seen, and all the
satires I have read against them, still I
love them; being firmly persuaded that a
man, who has not a sort of affection for the
whole sex, is incapable of ever loving a
single one as he ought.
Eh bien! Monsier l'Anglois, said the
Count, gaily.-You are not come to spy the
nakedness of the land ;-I believe you;ni encore, I dare say that of our women ;put permit me to conjecture-if, par hasard, they fell into your way, that the pros.pect would not affect you.

27

I have something within me which can.
not bear the shock of the least indecent in.
sinuation : in the sportability of chitchat I
have often endeavoured to conquer it, and
with infinite pain have hazarded a thou.
sand things to a dozen of the sex together
-the least of which I could not venture
to a single one to gain heaven.
Excuse me, Monsieur le Count, said I
as for the nakedness of your land, if I saw
it, I should cast my eyes over it with tears
in them-and for that of your women
(blushing at the idea he had excited in me)
I am so evangelical in this, and have such
a fellow-feeling for whatever is weak about
them, that I would cover it with a garment
if I knew how to throw it on;-but I could
wish, continued I, to spy the nakedness of
their hearts, and through the different disguises of customs, climates, and religion,
find out what is good in them to fashion
my own by-and therefore am I come.
It is for this reason, Monsieur le Count,
continued I, that I have not seen the Palais Royal-nor the Luxembourg-nor the
Facade of the Louvre-nor have attempted to swell the catalogues we have of pictures, statues, and churches.-I conceive
every fair being as a temple, and would rather enter in, and see the original drawings
and loose sketches hung up in it, than the
Transfiguration of Raphael itself
The thirst of this, continued I, as
impatient as that which inflames the
breast of the connoisseur, has led me
from my own home into France-and from
France will lead me through Italy ;-'tis a
quiet journey of the heart in pursuitof Nature, and those affections which arise out
of her, which make us love each otherand the world, better than we do.
The Count said a great many civil things
to me upon the occasion; and added very
politely, how much he stood obliged to
Shakspeare for making me known to him.
-But apropos, said he,-Shakspeare is full
of great things-he forgot a small punctilio
of announcing your name;-it puts you
under a necessity of doing it yourself.
THE PASSPORT.
Versailles,
THERE is not a more perplexing affair in
life to me, than to set about telling any one
who I am-for there is scarce any body 1
cannot give a better account of than my.
self; and I have often wished I could do it
in a single word and have an end of it. It
was the only time and occasion in my life I
could accomplish this to any purpose;-for
Shakspeare lying upon the table, and recollecting I was in his books, I took up
Hamlet, and turning immediately to the
grave-diggers' scene in the fifth act, I laid
my finger upon Yorick, and advancing the
book to the Count, with my finger all the
way over the name Me voic ! said I.
Now whether the idea of poor Yorick'a
skull was put out of the Count's mind by
the reality of my own, or by what magic
he could drop a period of seven or eight

28

A

SENTIMENTAL JOURNEY

hundred years, makes nothing in this account ;-'tis certain the French conceive
better than they combine;-I wonder at
nothing in this world, and the less at this;
inasmuch as one of the first of our own
church, for whose candour and paternal
sentiments I have the highest veneration,
fell into the same mistake in the very same
case.-" He could not bear," he said, "to
look into the sermons wrote by the King of
Denmark's jester."-Good, my lord ! said
I; but there are two Yoricks. The Yorick your lordship thinks of, has been dead
and buried eight hundred years ago; he
flourished in Horwendillus's court;-the
other Yorick is myself, who have flourished, my lord, in no court.-He shook his
head.-Good God! said I, you might as
well confound Alexander the Great with
Alexander the Coppersmith, my lord.'Twas all one, he replied.If Alexander, King of Macedon, could
have translated your lordship, said I, I'm
sure your lordship would not have said so.
The poor Count de B**** fell but into
the same error.Et Monsieur, est-il Yorick ? cried the
Count-Je le suis, said I.-Vous?-Moimoi qui ai l'honneur de vous parler, Monsieur le Comte.-Mon Dieu! said he, embracing me,--Vous Ites Yorick !
The Count instantly put the Shakspeare
into his pocket, and left me alone in his
room.

spirit wave her head, and turn off' sdent
from the author of her miseries and dis.
honours;-I lose the feelings for myself in
hers, and in those affections which were
wont to make me mourn for her when I
was at school.
Surely this is not walking in a vainshadow
-nor does man disquiet himself in vain
by it:-he oftener does so in trusting the
issue of these commotions to reason only.
-I can safely say for myself, I was never
able to conquer any one single bad sensation in my heart so decisively, as by beating up as fast as I could for some kindly
and gentle sensation to fight it upon its own
ground.
When I had got to the end of the third
actthe Count de B**** entered, with my
passport in his hand. Monsieur le Duc de
C****, said the Count, is as good a prophet, I dare say, as he is a statesman. Un
homme qui tit, said the duke, ne serajamais
dangereu.--Hadit been for any one but
the king's jester, added the Count, I could
not have got it these two hours.-Pardoin.
nes moi, Monsieur le Count, said I-I am
not the king's jester.-But you are Yorick ?
-Yes.-Et vous plaisantez?-I answered,
Indeed I did jest-but was not paid for it'twas entirely at my own expense.
We have no jester at court, Monsieur le
Count, said I; the last we had was in the
licentious reign of Charles lI.-since which
time our manners have been so gradually
refining, that our court at present is so
THE PASSPORT.
full of patriots, who wish for nothing but
the honours and wealth of their countryVersailles.
and our ladies are all so chaste, so spotless,
so good, so devout-there is nothing for a
I COULD conceive why the Count de jester to make a jest of.not
B**** had gone so abruptly out of the
Voila un persflage cried the count.
room, any more than 1 could conceive why
he had put the Shakspeare into his pocket.
THE PASSPORT.
-- Mysteries which must explain themselves
Versailles.
are not worth the loss of time which a conjecture about them takes up : 'twas better to
ead Shakspeare; so taking up " Much ado As the passport was directed to all lieu.
about Nothing," I transported myself in- tenant governors, governors, and comstantly from the chair I sat in to Messina mandants of cities, generals of armies, jus.
in Sicily, and got so busy with Don Pedro, ticiaries, and all officers of justice, to let
and Benedict, and Beatrice, that I thought Mr. Yorick the king's jester, and his bagnot of Versailles, the Count, or the pass- gage, travel quietly along-I own the tri.
port.
umph of obtaining the passport was not a
Sweet pliability of man's spirit, that can little tarnished by the figure I cut in it.at once surrender itself to illusions, which But there is nothing unmixed in this
cheat expectation and sorrow of their world; and some of the gravest of our
wgary moments !-Long-long since had divines have carried it so far as to affirm,
ye numbered out my days, had I not trod that enjoyment itself was attended even
sogreata part of them upon this enchanted with a sigh-and that the greatest they
ground; when my way is too rough for my knew of terminated in a general way, in.
feet, or too steep for my strength, I get off little better than a convulsion.
it, to some smooth velvet path, which fancy
1 remember the grave and learned Be.
hasscatteredoverwithrosebudsofdelights; voriskius, in his Commentary upon the
and having taken a few turns in it, come Generations from Adam, very naturally
back strengthened and refreshed.-When breaks off in the middle of a note to give
evils press sore upon me, and there is no an account to the world of a couple of
etreat from them in this world, then I sparrows upon the out edge of his window,
take a new course ;-l leave it,-and as I which had incommoded him all the time
have a clearer idea of the Elysian fields he wrote, and at last had entirely taken
than I have of heaven, I force myself, like him off from his genealogy.
Eneas, into them.-I see him meet the
-'Tis strange! writes Bevoriskius: but
pensive shade of his forsaken Dido, and the facts are certain, for I have had the
wish to recognise it i-I see the injured curiosity to mark them down one by one

THROUGH FRANCE AND ITALY.
with my pen ;-but the cock sparrow, during the little time that I could have finished the other half of this note, has actually
interrupted me with the reiteration of
his caresses three-and-twenty times and a
half.
How merciful, adds Bevoriskius, is Hea.
ven to his creatures.
Ill fated Yorick ! that the gravest of thy
brethren should be able to write that to the
world, which stains thy face with crimson
to copy, even in thy study.
But this is nothing to my travels.-So I
twice-twice beg pardon for it.
CHARACTER.
Versailles.
ANDhow do you find the French ? said the
Count de B****, after he had given me
the passport.
The reader may suppose, that after so
obliging a proof of courtesy, I could not be
at a loss to say something handsome to the
inquiry.
-Mais passe,pour cela.-Speak frankly,
said he : do you find all the urbanity in the
French which the world give us thehonour
of?-I had found every thing, I said, which
confirmed it.-Vraiment, said the Count,
les Franqois sont polis.-To an excess, replied 1.
The Count took notice of the word ascess! and would have it I meant more
than I said. I defended myself a long time
as well as I could against it.-He insisted I
had a reserve, and that I would speak my
opinion frankly.
I believe, Monsieur le Count, said I,
that man has a certain compass, as well as
an instrument; and that the social and
other calls have occasion by turns for every
key in him; so that if you begin a note too
high or too low, there must be a want
either in the upper or under part, to fill up
the system of harmony.-The Count de
Ba*** did not understand music, so desired me to explain it in some other way.
A polished nation, my dear Count, said I,
makes every one its debtor: and besides,
urbanity itself, like the fair sex, has so
many charms, it goes against the heart to
say it can do ill; and yet, I believe, there
is but a certain line of perfection, that
man, take him altogether, is empowered to
arrive at :-if he gets beyond, he rather exchanges qualities than gets them. I must
not presume to say how far this has affected the French, in the subject we are speaking of;-but, should it ever be the case of
the English, in the progress of their refinements, to arrive at the same polish which
distinguishes the French, if we did not lose
the politesse du ceur, which inclines men
more to humane actions than courteous
ones,-we should at least lose that distinct
variety and originality of character, which
distinguishes them, not only from each
other, but from all the world besides.
I had a few of King William's shillings,
as smooth as glass, in my pocket; and foreseeing they would be of use in the illustra-

29

tion of my hypothesis, I had got them into
my hand when I had proceeded so far :See, Monsieur le Count, said I, rising up,
and laying them before him upon the
table-by jingling and rubbing one against
another for seventy years together in one
body's pocket or another's, they are be.
come so much alike, you can scarce distin.
guish one shilling from another.
The English, like ancient medals, kept
more apart, and passing but few people's
hands, preserve the first sharpnesses which
the fine hand of Nature has given them;.
they are not so pleasant to feel-but in re.
turn the legend is so visible, that at the
first look you see whose image and super.
scription they bear.-But the French, Mon.
sieur le Count, added I (wishing to soften
what I had said), have so many excel.lences, they can the better spare this:they are a loyal, a gallant, a generous, an
ingenious, and good tempered people as is
under heaven ;-if they have a fault-they
are too serious.
Mon Dieu! cried the Count, rising out
of his chair.
Mais vous plaisante, said he, correcting
his exclamation.-I laid my hand upon my
breast, and with earnest gravity assured
him it was my most settled opinion.
The Count said he was mortified he
could not stay to hear my reasons, being
engaged to go that moment to dine with the
Duc de C****.
But if it is not too far to come to Ver
sailles to eat your soup with me, I beg, be.
fore you leave France, I may have the
pleasure of knowing you retract your opi.
nion-or, in what manner you support it.
-But, if you do support it, Monsieur An.
glois, said he, you must do it with all your
powers, because you have the whole world
against you.-1 promised the Count I
would do myself the honour of dining with
him before I set out for Italy ;-so took my
leave.
THE TEMPTATION.
Paris.
WHEN I alighted at the hotel, the porter
told me a young woman with a bandbox
had been that moment inquiring for me.I do not know, said the porter, whether
she is gone away or not. I took the key
of my chamber of him, and went up stairs;
and when I had got within ten steps of the
top of the landing before my door, 1 met
her coming easily down.
It was the fair fdlle de chambre I had
walked along the Quai de Conti with:
Madame de R**** had sent her upon
some commission to a merchande de modes
within a stop or two of the hotel de Mo.
dene ; and as I had failed waiting upon
her, had bid her inquire if I had left
Paris; and if so, whether I had not left a
letter addressed to her.
As the fairflle de chambre was so near
my door, she returned back, and went into
the room with me for a moment or two
whilst I wrote a card.

80

A SENTIMENTAL JOURNEY

It was a fine still evening in the latter
end of the month of May-the crimson
window curtains (which were of the same
colour as those of the bed) were drawn
slose :-the sun was setting, and reflected
through them so warm a tint into the fair
fille de chambre's face-I thought she
blushed;-the idea of it made me blush
myself;-we were quite alone; and that
superinduced a second blush before the
first could get off.
There is a sort of a pleasing half guilty
blush, where the blood is more in fault
than the man :--'tis sent impetuous from
the heart, and virtue flies after it-not to
call it back, but to make the sensation of
it more delicious to the nerves :-'tis associated.
But I'll not describe it ;-I felt something at first within me which was not in
strict unison with the lesson of virtue I
had given her the night before.-I sought
five minutes for a card ;-I knew I had
not one.-I took up a pen.--I laid it down
again-my hand trembled : the devil was
in me.
I know as well as any one he is an adversary, whom, if we resist, he will fly
from us;-but I seldom resist him at all;
from a terror, though I may conquer, I
may still get a hurt in the combat :-so I
give up the triumph for security; and, instead of thinking to make him fly, I generally fly myself.
The fairfille de chambre came close up
to the bureau where I was looking for a
card-took up first the pen I cast down,
then offered to hold me the ink; she offered it so sweetly, I was going to accept itbut I durst not;-I have nothing, my
dear, said I, to write upon.-Write it, said
she, simply, upon any thing.
I was just going to cry out, Then I will
write it, fair girl! upon thy lips.
If I do, said I, I shall perish ;-so I
took her by the hand, and led her to the
door, and begged she would not forget the
lesson I had given her.-She said, indeed
she would not;-and, as she uttered it
with some earnestness, she turned about,
and gave me both her hands, closed together into mine;-it was impossible not
to compress them in that. situation ;-I
wished to let them go :-and all the time
I held them, I kept arguing within myself
against it-and still I held them on.-In
two minutes I found I had all the battle to
fight over again ;-and I felt my legs and
every limb about me tremble at the idea.
The foot of the bed was within a yard
and a half of the place where we were
standing.-I had still hold of her hands(and how it happened I can give no account); but I neither asked her-nor drew
her-nor did I think of the bed
so
it did happen, we both sat down.
I'll just show you, said the fair fdle de
chambre, the little purse I have been making to-day to hold your crown. So she put
her hand into her right pocket, which was
next me, and felt for it some time-then
into the left.-" She had lost it."-I never
bore expectation more quietly ;-it was in

;-but

her right pocket at last;--she pulled it
out; it was of green taffeta, lined with A
little bit of white quilted satin, and just
big enough to hold the crown; she put i
into my hand ;-it was pretty; and I held
it ten minutes with the back of my hand
resting upon her lap-looking sometimes
at the purse, sometimes on one side of it.
A stitch or two had broke out in the
gathers of my stock; the fair fille de
chambre, without saying a word, took out
her little housewife, threaded a small
needle, and sewed it up.-I foresaw it would
hazard the glory of the day; and, as she
passed her hand in silence across and
across my neck in the manoeuvre, I felt the
laurels shake which fancy had wreathed
about my head.
A strap had given way in her walk, and
the buckle of her shoe was just falling off.
-See, said the flle de chambre, holding up
her foot.-I could not, for my soul but
fasten the buckle in return, and putting in
the strap-and lifting up the other foot
with it, when I had done, to see both were
right-in doing it too suddenly-it unavoidably threw the fair file de chambre
off her centre-and thenTHE CONQUEST.
YEs-and thenYe whose clay-cold
heads and lukewarm hearts can argue
down or mask your passions, tell me, what
trespass is it that man should have them ?
or how his spirit stands answerable to the
Father of spirits but for his conduct under
them ?
If Nature has so wove her web of kindness, that some threads of love and desire
are entangled with the piece-must the
whole web be rent in drawing them out ?Whip me such stoics, great Governor of
Nature! said I to myself :-wherever thy
providence shall place me for the trials of
my virtue-whatever is my danger-whatever is my situation-let me feel the movements which rise out of it, and which belong to me as a man-and if I govern them
as a good one, I will trust the issues to thy
justice; for thou hast made us, and not we
ourselves.
As I finished my address, I raised the
fair fille de chambre up by the hand, and
led her out of the room :-she stood by me
till I locked the door and put the key in
my pocket-and then-the victory being
uf.ite decisive-and not till then, I pressed
lips to her cheek, and taking her by
the hand again, led her safe to the gate o
the hotel.

my

THIE MYSTERY.
Paris.
IF a man knows the heart, he will know it
was impossible to go back instantly to my
chamber ;-it was touching a cold key with
a flat third to it upon the close of a piece of
music, which had called forth my affec
tions :-therefore, when I let go the hand
of the fdle de chambre, I remained at the

THROUGH FRANCE AND ITALY.

31

gate of the hotel for some time, looking at said, to overthrow the credit of his hotel.every one who passed by,-and forming Vous voyez, Monsieur, said he, pointing to
conjectures upon them, till my attention the foot of the bed we had been sitting
got fixed upon a single object which con- upon.-I own it had something of the aptfounded all kind of reasoning upon him.
pearance of an evidence; but my pride
It was a tall figure of a philosophic, se- not suffering me to enter into any detail of
rious, adust look, which passed and repass- the case, I exhorted him to let his soul
ed sedately along the street, making a turn sleep in peace, as I resolved to let mine
ot about sixty paces on each side of the do that night, and that I would discharge
gate of the hotel;-the man was about what I owed him at breakfast.
tifty-two-had a small cane under his arm
I should not haveminded, Monsieur,said
-was dressed in a dark drab-coloured coat, he, if you had had twenty girls.-'Tis
a
waistcoat, and breeches, which seemed to score more, replied I, interrupting him,
have seen some years service:-they were than I ever reckoned upon.-Provided,
still clean, and there was a little air of added he, it had been but in a morning.frugal proprete throughout him. By his And does the difference i the time of day
pilling off his hat, and his attitude of ac- at Paris make a difference in the sin ?-It
costing a good many in his way, I saw he made a difference, he said, in the scandal
was asking charity : so I got a sous or two -I like a good distinction in my heart;
out of my pocket ready to give him, as he and cannot say I was intolerably out of
took me in his turn.-He passed by me temper with the man.-I own it is neceswithout asking any thing-and yet did not sary, resumed the master of the hotel, that
go five steps
further before he asked charity' a stranger at Paris should have the oppor.
of a little woman.-I was much more likely tunities presented to him of buying lace
to have given of the two.-He had scarce and silk stockings and ruffles, et tout cela;
done with the woman, when he pulled off -- and 'tis nothing if a woman comes with
liis
hat to another who was coming the a bandbox.-O, my conscience! said I, she
same way -An ancient gentleman came had one; but I never looked into it.-Then
slowly-and, after him, a young smart one. Monsieur, said he, has bought nothing?-He let them both pass, and asked no- Not one earthly thing, replied I.-Because,
thing: I stood observing him half an said he, I could recommend one to you
hour, in which time he had made a dozen who would use you en conscience.-But I
turns backwards and forwards, and found must see her this night, said I.-He made
that he invariably pursued the same plan. me a low bow, and walked down.
There were two things very singular in
Now shall I triumph over this maitre
this, which set my brain to work, and to d hdtel, cried I,-and what then ? Then I
no purpose :-the first was, why the man shall let him see I know lie is a dirty felshould only tell his story to the sex ;-and, low.-And what then? What then ?-I
secondly-what kind of story it was, and was too near myself to say it was for the
what species of eloquence it could be, sake of others,-I had no good answer left
which softened the hearts of the women, -there was more of spleen than of princiwhich he knew 'twas to no purpose to ple in my project, and I was sick of it be.
practise upon the men.
fore the execution.
There were two other circumstances,
In a few minutes the grisette came in
which entangled this mystery ;-the one with her box of lace.-I'll buy nothing,
was, he told every woman what he had to however, said I, within myself.
say in her ear, and in a way which had
The grisette would show me every thing
much more the air of a secret than a peti- -I was hard to please : she would not
tion;-the other was, it was always suc- seem to see it; she opened her little maga.
cessful.-He never stopped a woman, but zine, and laid all her laces one after ano.
she pulled out her purse, and immediately ther before me-unfolded and folded them
gave him something,
up again one by one with the most patient
I could form no system to explain the sweetness.-I might buy-or not-she
phenomenon.
would let me have every thing at my own
I had got a riddle to amuse me for the price :-the poor creature seemed anxious
rest of the evening; so I walked up stairs to get a penny; and laid herself out to win
to my chamber,
me, and not so much in a manner which
seemed artful, as in one I felt simple and
THE CASE OF CONSCIENCE.
caressing.
If there is not a fund of %enest cullibiParis.
lity in man, so much tu worse;-my
heart relented, and I gave up my second
I WAs immediately followed up by the resolution as quietly as the first-Why
master of the hotel, who came into my should I chastise one for the trespass of
room to tell me I must provide lodgings another? If thou art tributary to this
elsewhere.-How so,friend? said I.-He tyrant of an host, thought I, looking up
answered, I had had a young woman lock- in her face, so much harder is thy bread.
ed up with me two hours that evening in
If I had not had more than four Louis
my bedchamber, and 'twas against the d'ors in my purse, there was no such thing
rules of his house.-Very well, said I, we'll as rising up and showing her the door, till
all part friends then-for the girl is no 1 nad first laid three of them outin a pair
worse-and I am no worse-and you will of ruffles.
be just as I found you.-It was enough, lie
-The master of the hotel will share the

3S

A SENTIMEN rAL JOURNEY

profit with her;-no matter-then I have' In, in the morning, with my coffee and roll
only paid as many a poor soul has paid be. and butter, he had got himself so gallantly
fore me, for an act hecouldnot do, or think Iarrayed, I scarce knew him.
of
I had covenanted at Montreuil to give
him a new hat with a silver button and
THE RIDDLE.
loop, and four Louis d'ors, pour s'adoniser,
when we got to Paris; and the poor felParis.
low, to do him justice, had done wonders
with it.
WHEN La Fleur came up to wait upon me
He had bought a bright, clean, good
at supper, he told me how sorry themaster scarlet coat, and a pair of breeches of the
of the hotel was for his affront to me in same.-They were not a crown worse, he
bidding me change my lodgings.
said, for the wearing.-I wished him
A man who values a good night's rest hanged for telling me.-They looked
will not lie down with enmity in his heart, so fresh, that though I knew the thing
if he can help it.-So I bid La Fleur tell could not be done, yet I would rather have
the master of the hotel that I was sorry imposed upon my fancy with thinking I
on my side for the occasion I had given had bought them new for the fellow, than
him;-and you may tell him, if you will, that they had come out of the Rue de Fri..
La Fleur, added I, that if the young perie.
woman should call again, I shall not see
This is a nicety which makes not the
her.
heart sore at Paris.
This was a sacrifice not to him, but my. " He had purchased moreover a handsome
self, having resolved, after so narrow an blue satin waistcoat, fancifully enough em.
escape, to run no more risks, but to leave broidered ;-this was indeed something the
Paris, if it was possible, with all the virtue worse for the service it had done, but 'twas
I entered it.
clean scoured ;-the gold had been touched
C'est diroger d noblesse, Monsieur, said up, and upon the whole was rather showy
La Fleur, making me a bow down to the than otherwise ;-and as the blue was not
ground as he said it.-Et encore, Monsieur, violent, it suited with the coat and breeches
said he, may change his sentiments-and very well: he had squeezed out of the
if (par hazard) he should like to amuse money, moreover, a new bag and a soli.
himself,-I find no amusement in it, said taire; and had insisted with the fripier
I, interrupting him.upon a gold pair of garters to his breeches
Mon Dieu! said La Fleur--and took knees.-He had purchased muslin ruffles
away.
bien brodees, with four livres of his own
In an hour's time he came to put me to money-and a pair of white silk stockings
oed, and was more than commonly offi for five more-and to top all, nature had
cious ;-something hung upon his lips to given him a handsome figure, without costsay to me, or ask me, which he could not ing him a sous.
get off: I could not conceive what it was,
He entered the room thus set off, with
and indeed gave myself little trouble to find his hair dressed in the first style, and with
it out, as I had another riddle so much a handsome bouquet in his breast;-in a
more interesting upon my mind, which word, there was that look of festivity in
was that of the man's asking charity be- every thing about him, which at once put
fore the door of the hotel.-I would have me in mind it was Sunday;-and, by com.
given any thing to have got to the bottom bining both together, it instantly struck
of it; and that, not out of curiosity-'tis me, that the favour he wished to ask of me
so low a principle of inquiry in general, I the night before, was to spend the day as
would not purchase the gratification of it every body in Paris spent it besides. I had
with a two-sous piece.-But a secret, I scarce made the conjecture, when La
thought, which so soon and so certainly Fleur, with infinite humility, but with a
softened the heart of every woman you look of trust, as if I should not refuse
came near, was a secret at least equal to him, begged I would grant him the day,
the philosopher's stone; had I both the pour faire le galant Vss.--vis de se mai.
Indies, I would have given up one to have tresse.
been master of it.
Now it was the very thing I intended to
I tossed and turned it almost all night do myself vis-d-vis Madame de R****.-I
long in my brains to no manner of pur. had retained the remise on purpose for it,
pose; and when I awoke in the morning, and it would not have mortified my vanity
I found my spirits as much troubled with to have had a servant so well dressed as La
my dreams, a ever the King of Babylon Fleur was, to have got up behind it: I
had been with his; and I will not hesitate never could have worse spared him.
to affirm, it would have puzzled all the
But we must feel, not argue in these emwise men of Paris as much as those of barrassments-the sons and daughters of
Chaldea to have given its interpretation,
service part with liberty, but not with nature, in their contracts; they are flesh and
blood, and have their little vanities and
LE DIMANCHE.
wishes in the midst of the house of bondage, as well as their taskmasters;-no
Paris.
doubt, they have set their self-denials at a
price-and their expectwtions are so unrea.
I1 was Sunday; and when La Fleur came
sonable, that I would often disappoint

ROUGH FRANCE AND ITALY.
thum, but that their condition puts it so
nJ.ch in my power to do it.
Behold! Behold, I am thy servant-disarms me at once of the powers of a master.Thou shalt go, La Fleur ! said I.
-And what mistress, La Fleur, said I,
canst thou have picked upin so little a time
at Paris ? La Fleur laid his hand upon his
breast, and said 'twas a petite demoiselle, at
Monsieur le Count de B****'s.-La Fleur
had a heart made for society; and, to
spesk the truth of him, let as few occasions slip him as his master;-that somehow or other-but how-Heaven knowshe had connected himself with the demoiele,upon the landing of the staircase during
the time I was taken up with my passport ;
and as there was time enough for me to
win the Count to my interest, La Fleur
had contrived to make it do to win the
maid to his. The family, it seems, was to
be at Paris that day, and he had made a
party with her, and two or three more of
the Count's household, upon the boulevards.
Happy people! that once a week at least
are sure to lay down all your cares together, and dance and sing and sport away
the weights of grievance, which bow down
the spirit of other nations to the earth.

33

lihghtened my mind with a bottle of Bur.
gundy; I at it again ;-and, after two or
three hours poring upon it, with almost as
deep attention as ever Gruter or Jacob
Spon did upon a nonsensical inscription, I
thought I made sense of it, but to make
sure of it, the best way, I imagined, was
to turn it into English, and see how it
would look then ;-so I went on leisurely,
as a trifling man does, sometimes writing
a sentence-then taking a turn or twoand then looking how the world went, out
of the window; so that it was nine o'clock
at night before I had done it;-1 then
began and read it as follows.
THE FRAGMENT.
Paris.

-Now as the notary's wife disputed the
point with the notary with too much heat,
-[ wish, said the notary, (throwing down
the parchment) that there was another
notary here only to set down and attest all
this.
-And what would you do then, Mon.
sieur! said she, rising hastily up.-The
notary's wife was a little fume of a woman,
and the notary thought it well to avoid a
hurricane by a mild reply.-I would go,
answered he, to bed.-You may go to the
THE FRAGMENT.
devil, answered the notary's wife.
Now there happening to be but one bed
Paris.
in the house, the other two rooms being
unfurnished, as is the custom at Paris, and
LA Fleur had left me something to amuse the notary not caring to lie in the same
myself with for the day more than I had bed with a woman who had but that mo.
bargained for, or could have entered either ment sent him pell mell to the devil,
into his head or mine.
went forth with his hat and cane and short
He had brought the little print of butter cloak, the night being very windy, and
upon a currant leaf: and as the morning walked out ill at ease towards the Pont
was warm, and he had a good step to bring Neuf.
Of all the bridges which ever were built,
it, he had begg'd a sheet of waste paper to
put betwixt the currant leaf and his hand. the whole world, who have passed over the
-As that was plate sufficient, I bade him Pont Neuf must own, that it is the noblest
lay it upon the table as it was, and as I re. -the finest-the grandest-the lightestsolved to stay within all day, I ordered him the longest-the broadest that ever conto call upon the traiteur, to bespeak my joined land and land together upon the
dinner, and leave me to breakfast by my- face of the terraqueous globeBy this it seems as if the author of the
self.
fragment had not been a Frenchman.
When I had finished the butter, I threw
The worst fault which divines and the
the currant leaf out of the window, and
was going to do the same by the waste pa- doctor- of the Sorbonne can allege against
per-but stopping to read a line first, and it is, t 4 if there is but a capfull of wind
that drawing me on to a second and third in or about Paris, 'tis more blasphemously
-I thought it better worth; so I shut the sacre Dieu'd there than in any other aperwindow, and drawing a chair up to it, I tureofthewholecity-andwithreason good
and cogent, Messieurs; for it comes against
sat down to read it.
It was in the old French of Rabelais' you without crying garde d'eaus, and with
time, and for aught I know might have such unpremeditable puffs, that of the few
been wrote by him :-it was moreover in a who cross it with their hats on, not one in
Gothic letter, and that so faded and gone fifty but hazards two livres and a half,
off by damps and length of time, it cost me wh. ;h is its full worth.
The poor hotary, just as he was passing
infinite trouble to make any thing of it.-I
threw it down; and then wrote a letter to (by the sentry, instinctively clapped his
Eugenius ;-then I took it up again, and cane to the side of it, but in raising it up,
embroiled rmy patience with it afresh-and the point of his cane catching hold of the
then to cure that, I wrote a letter to Eliza. loop of the sentinel's hat, hoisted it over
-Still it kept hold of me; and the 1if1i- the spikes of the ballustrade clear into the
culty of understanding it increased but the Seine.,
I.'Ws
an ill wind, said a boatman, who
desire.
I got my dinner; and after I had en- catched it, shich ioewa nobody any good.

S4

A SENTIMENTAL JOURNEY

The sentry, being a Gascon, incontinently twirled up his whiskers, and level'd his
arquebuse.
Arquebuses in those days went off with
matches; and an old woman's paper lantern at the end of the bridge happening to
be blown out, she had borrowed the sentry's match to light it:-it gave a moment's time for the Gascon's blood to run
cool, and turn the accident better to his
advantage.-'Tis an ill wind, said he,
catching off the notary's castor, and legitimating the capture with the boatman's
adage.
The poor notary crossed the bridge, and
passing along the Rue de Dauphine into
the Fauxbourg of St. Germain, lamented
himself as he walked along in this manner:
Luckless man that I am! said the notary, to be the sport of hurricanes all my
days-to be born to have the storm of ill
language levelled against me and my profession wherever I go-to be forced into
marriage by the thunder of the church to
a tempest of a woman-to be driven forth
out of my house by domestic winds, and
despoiled of my castor by pontific ones !to be here, bareheaded, in a windy night
at the mercy of the ebbs and flows of accidents !-where am I to lay my head ?miserable man! what wind in thetwo-andthirty points of the whole compass can
blow unto thee, as it does to the rest of
thy fellow creatures, good !
As the notary was passing on by a dark
passage, complaining in this sort, a voice
called out to a girl, to bid her run for the
next notary.-Now the notary being the
next, and availing himself of his situation,
walked up the passage to the door, and
passing through an old sort of a saloon,
was ushered into a large chamber, disman.
tled of every thing but a long military
pike-a breastplate-a rusty old sword, and
bandoleer, hung up equidistant in four
different places against the wall.
An old personage who had heretofore
been a gentleman, and unless decafortune taints the blood along with it, was
a gentleman at that time, lay supporting
his head upon his hand in his bed; a little
table with a taper burning was set close
beside it, and close by the table was placed
a chair :-the notary sat him down in it;
and pulling out his inkhorn and a sheet or
two of paper which he had in his pocket,
he placed them before him, and dipping
his pen in his ink, and leaning his breast
over the table, he disposed every thing
to make the gentleman's last will and testament.
Alas ! Monsieur le Notaire, said the
gentleman, raising himself up a little, I
have nothing to bequeath, which will pay
the expense of bequeathing, except the
history of myself, which I could not die in
peace, unless I left it as a legacy to the
world : the profits arising out of it I bequeath to you for the pains of taking it
from me;-it is a story so uncommon, it
must be read by all mankind;-it will

of

make the fortunes of your house.-The
notary dipp'd his pen into his ink horn..-.
Almighty Director of every event in my
life! said the old gentleman, looking up
earnestly, and raising his hands towards
heaven.-Thou, whose hand has led me on
through such a labyrinth of strange passages down into this scene of desolation,
assist the decaying memory of an old,
infirm, and broken-hearted man;-direct
my tongue by the spirit of thy eternal
truth, that this stranger may set down
nought but what is written in that Book,
from whose records, said he, clasping his
hands together, 1 am to be condemned or
acquitted !-the notary held up the point
of his pen betwixt the taper and his eye.It is a story, Monsieur le Notaire, said
the gentleman, which will rouse up every
affection in nature;-it will kill the hu.
mane, and touch the heart of cruelty her.
self with pity.
-The notary was inflamed with a desire
to begin, and put his pen a third time into
his inkhorn-and the old gentleman, turning a little more towards the notary, began
to dictate his story in these words
And where is the rest of it, La
Fleur, said I, as he just then entered the
room.
FRAGMENT, AND BOUQUET *.
Paris.
WREN La Fleur came close up to the
table, and was made to comprehend what
I wanted, he told me there were only two
other sheets of it, which he had wrapped
round the stalks of a bouquet to keep it
together, which he had presented to the
demoiselle upon the boulevards.-Then
prithee, La Fleur, said I, step back to her
to the count de B * * * *'s hotel, and see
if thou canst get it.-There is no doubt of
it, said La Fleur-and away he flew.
In a very little time the poor fellow
came back quite out of breath, with deeper marks of disappointment in his looks
than could arise from the simple irreparability of the fragment. Just Ciel ! in less
than two minutes that the poor fellow had
taken his last tender farewell of her-his
faithless mistress had given his gage
d'amourto one of the Count's footmenthe footman to a young sempstress-and
the sempstress to a fiddler, with my fragment at the end of it.-Our misfortunes
were involved together;-1 gave a sighand La Fleur echoed it back again to my
ear.
-How perfidious ! cried La Fleur.How unlucky! said I.
-I should not have been mortified,
Monsieur, quoth La Fleur, if she had
lost it.-Nor I, La Fleur, said I, had I
found it.
Whether I did or no, will be seen here
after.
* Nosegs.

THROUGH FRANCE AND ITALY.

85

ask less of ladies of their rank; and
bowed down his head to the ground.
Pool said they-we have no money.
The beggar remained silent for a moParis.
ment or two, and renewed his supplicafears to tion.
THE man who either disdains or
-Do not, my fair young ladies, said he,
walk up a dark entry, may be an excellent
man, and fit for a hundred things; stop your good ears against me.-Upon my
e will not do to make a good senti- word, honest man! said the younger, we
ment al traveller.--I count little of the have no change.-Then God bless you,
many things I see pass at broad noonday, said the poor man, and multiply those joys
in lar ge and open streets.-Nature is shy, which you can give to others without
and h
hates to act before spectators; but in change !-I observed the elder sister put
suchan unobserved corner you sometimes her hand into her pocket.-I'll see, said
see a single short scene of hers worth all she, if I have a sous. A sous ! give
the ssentiments of a dozen French plays twelve, said the supplicant; Nature has
compo
ounded together-and yet they are been bountiful to you, be bountiful to a
absols tely fine ;-and whenever I have a poor man.
-I would, friend, with all my heart,
more brilliant affair upon my hands than
comn ion, as they suit a preacher just as said the younger, if I had it.
My fair charitable ! said he, addressing
well as hero, I generally make my sera
mon out of 'em ;-and for the text-" Cap. himself to the elder-What is it but your
padoc Pontus and Asia, Phrygia and goodness and humanity which makes your
ia,
Pam phylia" is as good as any one in the bright eyes so sweet, that they outshine
the morning even in this dark passage?
.
Bible
Th ere is a long dark passage issuing out and what was it which made the Marquis
from the Opera Comique into a narrow de Santerre and his brother say so much
stree t;'tis trod by a few who humbly wait of you both as they just passed by ?
The two ladies seemed much affected;
for a facre *, or wish to get off quietly
o'foot t when the opera is done. At the and impulsively at the same time they
end of it, towards the theatre, 'tis lighted both put their hands intotheir pocket,
by a small candle, the light of which is and each took out a twelve-sous piece.
The contest betwixt them and the poor
almo st
lost before you get half-way down,
but near the door ;-'tis more for orna- supplicant was no more-it was continued
ment t
than use: you see it as a fixed star betwixt themselves, which of the two
of t he least magnitude; it burns-but should give the twelve-sous piece in charidoes little good to the world, that we know ty ;-and, to end the dispute, they both
gave it together, and the man went away.
of.
In returning along this passage, I discerned, as I approached within five or six
THE RIDDLE EXPLAINED.
paces of the door, two ladies standing arm
in arm with their backs against the wall,
Paris.
waiting, as I imagined, for a fiacre;-as
they were next the door, I thought they
him: it
had a prior right; so edged myself up I STEPPED hastily after in asking was the
charity
within a yard or little more of them, and very man whose success
quietly took my stand.-I was in black, and of the women before the door of the hotel
had so puzzled me;-and I found at once
scarce seen.
The lady next me was a tall lean figure his secret, or at least the basis of it :of a woman, of about thirty-six; the 'twas flattery.
Delicious essence! how refreshing art
other of the same size and make, of about
forty: there was no mark of wife or thou to Nature! how strongly are all its
powers and all its weaknesses on thy side!
of either of them ;widow in any one part
they seemed to be two upright vestal how sweetly dost thou mix with the blood,
sisters, unsapped by caresses unbroke in and help it through the most difficult and
upon by tender salutations. I could have tortuous passages to the heart !
The poor man, as he was not straitened
wished to have made them happy :-their
happiness was destined that night, to for time, had given it here in a larger
dose: 'tis certain he had a way of bring.
come from another quarter.
A low voice, with a good turn of expres- ing it into a less form, for the many sudsion, and sweet cadence at the end of it, den cases he had to do with in the streets;
begged for a twelve-sous piece betwixt but how he contrived to correct, sweeten,
them, for the love of heaven. I thought concentre, and qualify it-I vex not my
it singular that a beggar should fix the spirit with the inquiry ;-it is enough, the
quota of an alms-and that the sum should beggar gained two twelve-sous pieces-and
be twelve times as much as what is usually they can best tell the rest, who have gained
given in the dark.-They both seemed as- much greater matters by it.
tonished at it as much as myself.-Twelve
PARIS.
sous! said one.-A twelve.sous piece !
said the other-and made no reply.
The poor man said, he knew not how to WE get forwards in the world, not so
much by doing services, as receiving them;
you take a withering twig, and put it i
* Hackne coach.
TH2 ACT OF CHARITY.

good

36

A SENTIMENTAL JOURNEY

the ground; and then you water it, beShe placed upon the same sofa witl
me
her, for the sake of disputing the point oi
cause you have planted it.
Monsieur le Count de B****, merely religion more closely.-In short Madame
because he had done me one kindness in de V*** told me she believed nothing.-I
the affair of my passport, would go on and told Madame de V*** it might be her
do me another, the few days he was at principle; but I was sure it could not be
Paris, in making me known to a few peo. her interest to level the outworks, without
pie of rank; and they were to present, me which I could not conceive how such a
to others, and so on.
citadel as hers could be defended;-that
I had got master of my secret just in there was not a more dangerous thing i.
time to turn these honours to some little the world than for a beauty to be a deist ;
account; otherwise, as is commonly the -that it was a debt I owed my creed not
case, I should have dined or supped a to conceal it from her;-that I had not
single time or two round; and then by been five minutes sat upon the sofa beside
translatingFrench looks and attitudes into her, but I had begun to form designs;plain English, I should presently have and what is it, but the sentiments of religion, and the persuasion they had excited
seen, that I had gold out of the couvert
of some more entertaining guest; and in in her breast, which could have checked
course should have resigned all my places them as they rose up ?
We are not adamant, said I, taking hold
one after another, merely upon the principie that I could not keep them. As it was, of her hand ;-and there is need of all restraints, till age in her own time steals in
things did not go much amiss.
I had the honour of being introduced to and lays them on us.-But my dear lady,
the old Marquis de B****: in days of said I, kissing her hand-'tis too-too soon.
I declare I bad the credit all over Paris
yore he had signalized himself by some
small feats of chivalry in the Cour of unperverting Madame de V***.-She
d'Amour, and had dressed himself out to affirmed to Monsieur D*** and the Abbe
the idea of tilts and tournaments ever M***, that in one half hour I had said
since.-The Marquis de B**** wished to more for revealed religion, than all their
have it thought the affair was somewhere Encyclopaedia had said against it.-I was
else than in his brain. " He could like to listed directly into Madame de V***'s
take a trip to England," and asked much coterie-andshe put offthe epocha of deism
of the English ladies.--Stay where you are, for two years.
I remember it was in this coterie, in the
I beseech you, Monsieur le Marquis, said
I--Les Messieurs Anglois can scarce get a middle of a discourse, in which I was
kind look from them as it is.-The Mar. showing the necessity of a first cause,
when the young Count de Faineant took
quis invited me to supper.
Monsieur P****, the farmer-general,- me by the hand to the farthest corner of
was just as inquisitive about our taxes. the room, to tell me my solitaire was pin.
They were very considerable, he heard.ned too straight about my neck.-It
If we knew but how to collect them, said should be plus badinant, said the Count,
looking down upon his own ;-but a word,
I, making him a low bow.
I could never have been invited to Monsieur Yorick, to the wiseMons. P****'s concerts upon any other
Andfrom the wise, Monsieur le Count,
replied I, making him a bow-is enough.
terms.
The Count de Faineant embraced me
I had been misrepresented to Madame
de Q*** as an esprit.-Madame de Q*** with more ardour than ever I was em.
was an esprit
herself: she burned with im- braced by mortal man.
For three weeks together I was of every
patience to see me, and hear me talk. 1
had not taken my seat, before I saw she man's opinion 1 met.-Pardi! ce Monsieur
did not care a sous whether I had any wit Yorick a autant d'esprit que nous autres.
raisonne lien, said another-C'est
or no ;-I was let in, to be convinced she -I
had. I call Heaven to witness I never once un bon enfant, said a third.-And at this
opened the door of my lips.
price I could have eaten and drank and
Madame de V***e vowed to every crea- been merry all the days of my life at Pa.
ture
she met-She had never had a more ris;but 'twas a dishonest reckoning;-I
improving conversation with a man in her grew ashamed of it.-It was the gain of a
slave;-every sentiment of honour revoltlife.
There are three epochas in the empire ed against it;-the higher I got, the more
of a French woman :-She is coquette- was I forced upon my beggarlysystem-the
i
then deist-then devote the empire during better the coterie;-the more children of
these is never lost-she only changes her Art-I languished for those of nature:
subjects : when thirty-five years and more and one night, after a most vile prostitu.
have unpeopled her dominions of the slaves tion of myself to half a dozen different
of love, she repeoples it with infidelity, I people, I grew sick-went to bed;-order.
I ed La Fleur to get me horses in the morn.
and then with slaves of the church.
Madame de V*** was vibrating be. ing to set out for Italy.
twixt the first of those epochas: the colour
M A R I A.
of the rose was fading fast away;-she
ought to have been a deist five years before
the time I had the honour to pay my first
Moulines.
visit.
" Plate, napkin, knife, fork andspoon.
I xaVza felt what the distress of plenty

*

THROUGH FRANCE AND ITALY.
'was in any one shape till now-to travel it
through the Bourbonnois, the sweetest
part of France-in the heyday of the vintage, when nature is pouring her abun.
dance into every one's lap, and every eye
is lifted up-a journey, through each step
of which Music beats time to Labour, and
all her children are rejoicing as they carry
in their clusters : to pass through this
with my affections flying out, and kindling
at every group before me-and every one
of them was pregnant with adventures,Just heaven !-it would fill up twenty
volumes ;-and alas! I have but a few
small pages left of this to crowd it intoand half of these must be taken up with
the poor Maria my friend Mr. Shandy met
with near Moulines.
The story he had told of that disordered
maid affected me not a little in the reading; but when I got within the neighbourhood where she lived, it returned so strong
into the mind, that I could not resist an
impulse which prompted me to go half a
league out of the road, to the village
where her parents dwelt, to inquire after
her.
'Tis going, I own, like the Knightof the
Woful Countenance, in quest of melancholy adventures ;-but I know not how it
is, but I am never so perfectly conscious of
the existence of a soul within me, as when
I am entangled in them.
The old mother came to the door; her
looks told me the story before she opened
her mouth--She had lost her husband; he
had died, she said, of anguish, for the loss
of Maria's senses, about a month before.She had feared at first, she added, that it
would have plundered her poor girl of
what little understanding was left ;-but,
on the contrary, it had brought her more
to herself ;-still she could not rest.-Her
poor daughter, she said, crying, was wan,dering somewhere about the roadWhy does my pulse beat languid as I
write this-? and what made La Fleur,
whose heart seemed only to be turned to
joy, to pass the back of his hand twice
across his eyes, as the woman stood and
told it ? I beckoned to the postilion to
turn back into the road.
When we had got within half
of Moulines, at a little opening in a league
the road
leading to a thicket, I discovered poor Manria sitting under a poplar. She was sitting
with her elbow in her lap, and her head
leaning on one side within her hand :-a
small brook ran at the foot of the tree.
I bid the postilion go on with the chaise
to Moulines-and La Fleur to bespeak
my supper ;-and that I would walk after
him.
She was dressed in white, and much as
my friend described her, except that her
hair hung loose, which before was twisted
within a silk net.-She had superadded
likewise to her jacket, a pale green riband,
which fell across her shoulder to the waist ;
at the end of which hung her pipe.-Her
goat had been as faithless as her lover; and
she had got a little dog in lieu of him,
which she had kept tied by a string to her

37

girdle: as I looked at her dog, she drew
him towards her with the string.-" Thou
shalt not leave me, Sylvio," said she. I
looked in Maria's eyes and saw she was
thinking more of her father than of her
lover, or her little goat; for as she uttered them, the tears trickled down her
cheeks.
I sat down close by her; and Maria let
me wipe them away as they fell, with my
handkerchief.-I then steeped it in my own
-and then in hers-and then in mine-and
then I wiped hers again ;-and as I did it, I
felt such undescribable emotions within
me, as I am sure could not be accounted
for from any combinations of matter and
motion.
I am positive I have a soul ; nor can all
the books with which materialists have
pestered the world ever convince me to the
contrary.
MARIA.
WHEN Maria had come a little to herself,
I asked her if she remembered a pale thin
person of a man, who had sat down betwixt her and her goat about two years
before? She said she was unsettled much
at that time, but remembered it upon two
accounts :-that ill as she was, she saw the
person pitied her; and next, that her goat
had stolen his handkerchief, and she had
beat him for the theft;-she had washed
it, she said, in the brook, and kept it ever
since in her pocket to restore it to him in
case she should ever see him again, which,
she added, he had half promised her. As
she told me this she took the handkerchief
out of her pocket to let me see it; she had
folded it up neatly in a couple of vineleaves, tied round with a tendril ;-on
opening it, I saw an S. marked in one of
the corners.
She had since that, she told me, strayed
as far as Rome, and walked round St.
Peter's once-and returned back;-that
she found her way alone across the Apen.
nines-had travelled over all Lombardy
without money-and through the flinty
roads of Savoy without shoes:-how she
had borne it, and how she had got supported, she could not tell ;-but God ternpers the wind, said Maria, to the shorn
lamb.
Shorn indeed ! and to the quick, said I :
and wast thodf in my own land, where I
have a cottage, I would take thee to it,
and shelter thee: thou shouldest eat of my
own bread and drink of my own cup ;-I
would be kind to thy Sylvio;-in all thy
weaknesses and wanderings I would seek
after thee and bring thee back ;-when the
sun went down I would say my prayer s :
and when I had done thou shouldst play
thy evening song upon thy pipe, nor would
the incense of my sacrifice be worse ac.
cepted for entering heaven along with that
of a broken heart !
Nature melted within me, as I uttered
this; and Maria observing, as I took out
my handkerchief, that it was steeped too
much already to be of use, would steeds gc
z

38

A SENTIMENTAL JOURNEY

wash it in the stream.-And where will
you dry it, Maria? said I.-I'll dry it in
my bosom, said she-'twill do me good.
And is your heart still so warm, Maria ?
said I.
I touched upon the string on which hung
all her sorrows :-she looked with wistful
disorder for some time in my face; and
then, without saying any thing, took her
pipe and played her service to the Virgin.
-The string I had touched ceased to vibrate ;--in a moment or two Maria returned to herself-let her pipe fall-and
rose up.
And where are you going, Maria? said
I.-She said, to Moulines.-Let us go, said
I, together.-Maria put her arm within
mine, and lengthening the:string, to let the
dog follow-in that order we entered Moulines,
MA RI A.
Moulines.
I
THOuGH hate salutations and greetings in
the market-place, yet, when we got into
the middle of this, I stopped to take my
last look and last farewell of Maria.
Maria, though not tall, was nevertheless
of the first order of fine forms :--affliction
had touched her looks with something that
was scarce earthly;-still she was feminine ;-and so much was there about her
of all that the heart wishes, or the eye
looks for in woman, that could the traces
be even worn out of her brain, and those of
Eliza out of mine, she should not only eat
of my bread and drink of my cup, but Maria
should lie in my bosom, and be unto me as
a daughter.
Adieu, poor luckless maiden !-Imbibe
the oil and wine which the compassion of
a stranger, as he journeyeth on his way,
now pours into thy wounds ;-the Being,
who has twice bruised thee, can only bind
them up for ever.
THE BOURBONNOIS.
was nothing from which I had
painted out for myself so joyous a riot of
the affections, as in this journey in the vintage, through this part of France; but
pressing through this gate of sorrow to it,
my sufferings have totally unfitted me; in
every scene of festivity, I faw Maria in the
back ground of the piece, sitting pensive
under her poplar; and I had got almost to
Lyons before I was able to cast a shade
across her.
-Dear Sensibility! source inexhausted
of all that's precious in our joys, or costly
in our sorrows ! thou chainest thy martyr
down upon his bed of straw-and 'tis thou
who lift'st him up to Heaven-Eternal
fountain of our feelings !-'tis here I trace
thee-and this is thy "divinity which stirs
within me ;"-not that, in some sad and
sickening moments, "my soul shrinks back
upon herself, and startles at destruction ! "mere pomp of words !-but that I feel
some generous joys and generous cares be.
THERE

yond myself;-all comes from thee, gret
-great Sensorium of the world ! which vi.
brates, if a hair of our heads but falls upon
the ground, in the remotest desert of thy
creation.-Touched with thee, Eugenius
draws my curtain when 1 languish-hears
my tale of symptoms, and blames the weather for the disorder of his nerves. Thou
givest a portion of it sometimes to the
roughest peasant who traverses the bleakest mountains;-he finds the lacerated
lamb of another's flock.-This moment I
behold him leaning with his head against
his crook, with piteous inclination looking
down upon it !-Oh ! had I come one moment sooner ! it bleeds to death !-his gentle heart bleeds with it!
Peace to thee, generous swain !-I see
thou walkest off with anguish-but thy
joys shall balance it;-for, happy is thy
cottage-and happy is the sharer of it-.
and happy are the lambs which sport about
you.
THE SUPPER.
coming loose from the fore foot of
A SHOE
the thill-horse, at the beginning of the ascent of mount Taurira, the postilion dis-mounted, twisted the shoe off, and put it
in. his pocket; as the ascent was of five or
six miles, and that horse our main depen.
dance, I made a point of having the shoe
fastened on again as well as we could; but
the postilion had thrown away the nails,
and the hammer in the chaise box being of
no great use without them, I submitted to
go on.
He had not mounted half a mile higher,
when, coming to a flinty piece of road, the
poor devil lost a second shoe, and from off
his other fore foot; I then got out of the
chaise in good earnest; and seeing a house
about a quarter of a mile to the left hand,
with a great deal to do I prevailed upon
the postilion to turn up to it. The look
of the house, and of every thing about it,
as we drew nearer, soon reconciled me to
the disaster.-It was a little farm house,
surrounded with about twenty acres of
vineyard, about as much corn-and close
to the house, on one side, was a potagerie
of an acre and a half, full of every thing
which could make plenty in a French pea.sant's house;-and, on the other side, was
a little wood, which furnished wherewithal
to dress it. It was about eight in the even.ing when I got to the house-so I left the
postilion to manage his point as he could;
and, for mine, I walked directly into the
house.
The family consisted of an old gray.headed man and his wife, with five or six
sons and sons-in-law, and their several
wives, and a joyous genealogy out of them.
They were all sitting down together to
their lentil-soup; a large wheaten loaf was
in the middle of the table; and a flagon of
wine at each end of it promised joy through
the stages of the repast;-'twas a feast of
love.
The old man rose up to meet me, and
with a respectful cordiality would have me

THROUGH FRANCE ANDITALY,

89

to take his time with a couple of mules,
and convoy me in my own chaise safe to
Turin, through Savoy.
Poor, patient, quiet, honest people; fear
not: your poverty, the treasury of your
simple virtues, will not be envied you by
the world, nor will your valleys be invaded
by it.--Nature! in the midst of thy disor.
ders, thou art still friendly to the scantiness thou hast created: with all thy great
works about thee, little hast thou left to
give, either to the scythe or to the sicklebut to that little thou grantest safety and
protection; and sweet are the dwellings
which stand so sheltered.
Let the wayworn traveller vent his com.
plaints upon the sudden turns and dangers
of your roads-your rocks-your precipices ;-the difficulties of getting up-the
horrors of getting down-mountains impracticable-and cataracts, which roll
THE GRACE.
down great stones from their summits, and
WHEN supper was over, the old man gave block up "his road.-The peasants had
a knock upon the table with the haft of his been all day at work in removing a fragknife, to bid them prepare for the dance : ment of this kind between St. Michael and
the moment the signal was given, the wo- Madane; and, by-he time my voiturin g(.
men and girls ran' altogether into a back to the place, it wanted full two hours ev
apartment to tie up their hair-and tke completing before a passage could any how
young men to the door to wash their faces, be gained : there was nothing but to wait
and change their sabots; and in three mi- with patience--'twas a wet and tempestu.
nutes every soul was ready upon a little: ous night; so that by the delay, and that
esplanade before the house to begin.-The together, the voiturin found himself obliged
old .man and his wife came out last, and to take up five miles short of his stage at a
placing me betwixt them, sat down upon a little decent kind of an inri by the road
side.
*
sofa of turf by the door.
I forthwith took possession of my bedThe old man had some fifty years ago
been no mean performer upon the vielle- chamber-got a good fire-ordered supper;
and at the age he was then of, touched it and was thanking Heaven it was no worse,
well enough for the purpose. His wife when a voiture arrived with a lady in it
sung now and then a little to the tune- and her servant maid.
then. intermitted-and joined her old man i As there was no other bed-chamber in
again, as their children and grandchildren the house, the hostess, without much
!nicety, led them into mine, telling them,
danced before them.
It was not till the middle of the second as she ushered them in, that there was nodance, when, for some pauses in the move- Ibody in it but an English gentleman;-

st down at the table; my heart was set
down the moment 1 entered the room; so
I sat down at once like a son of the family;
and to invest myself in the character as
speedily as I could, I instantly borrowed
.he old man's knife, and taking up the
loaf, cut myself a hearty luncheon : and;,
as I did it, I saw a testimony in every eye,
not only of an honest welcome, but of a
wlicome mixed with thanks that I had not
seemed to doubt it.
Was it this ? or tell me, Nature, what
else it was that made this morsel so sweet
-and to what magic I owe it, that the
draught I took of their flagon was so delicious with it, that they remain upon my
palate to this hour,
If the supper was to my taste-the grace
which followed it was much more so.

ments wherein they all seemed to look up, that there were two good beds in it, and a

closet within the room which held another.
The accent in which she spoke of this
third bed, did not say much for it ;-how.
ever, she said there were three beds and
but three people, and she durst say, the
gentleman would do any thing to accom.
modate matters.-I left not the lady a moment to make a conjecture about it-so instantly made a declaration that I would do
any thing in my power.
As this did not amount to an absolute
surrender of my bed-chamber, I still felt
: myself so much the proprietor, as to have
a right to do the honours of it ;-so I desired the lady to sit down, pressed her into
the warmest seat, called for more wood,
desired the hostess to enlarge the plan of
Ithe supper, and to favour us with the very
best wine.
The lady had scarce warmed herself five
THE CASE OF DELICACY.
minutes at the fire, before she began to
Wan you have gained the top of mount !turn her head back, and give a look at the
Taurira, you run presently down to Lyons : i beds; and the oftener she cast her eyes
then, to all rapid movements ! that way, the more they returned perplex.
-adlieu,
"Tis a journey of caution; and it fares bet- ed ;-I feit,for her-and for myself: for in
ter with sentiments, not to be in a hurry' a few minutes, what by her looks, and the
with them: so I contracted with a voitrin case itself; I found myself as much emr,
z2
I fancied 1 could distinguish an elevation
of spirit different from that yhich is the
cause or the effect of simple jollity. In a
word, I thought I beheld Religion mixing
in the dance :-but, as I had never seen
her so engaged, I should have looked upon
it now as one of the illusions of an imagination which is eternaUlly misleading me,
had not the old man, as soon as the dance
ended, said, that this was their constant
way; and that all his life long he had
made it a rule, after smupperwas over, to
call out his family to dance and rejoice;
believing, he said, that a cheerful and contented mind was the best sort of thanks to
Veaven that an illiterate peasant could
iayOr a learned prelate either, said I.

40

A SENTIMENI AL JOURNEY

barrassed as it was possible the lady could which has yet had the honour of bein
be herself.
handed down to posterity.
That the beds we were to lie in were in
They were as follow :
one and the same room, was enough simFirst, as the right of the bed-chamber is
ply by itself to have excited all this ;-but in Monsieur-and he thinking the bed next
the position of them (for they stood paral- to the fire to be the warmest, he insists
lel, and so very close-to each other as only upon the concession on the lady's side of
to allow space for a small wicker chairlbe- taking up with it.
twixt them) rendered the affair still more
Granted, on the part of Madame; with
oppressive to us;-they were fixed up a proviso, That as the curtains of that bed
moreover near the fire; and the projection are of a flimsy transparent cotton, and apof the chimney on one side, and a large pear likewise too scanty to draw close, that
beam which crossed the room onthe other, the fille de chamre shall fasten up the
formed a kind of recess for them that was opening, either by corking pins, or needle
no way favourable to the nicety of our sen- and thread, in such manner as shall be
sations :-if any thing could have added to deemed a sufficient barrier on the side of
it, it was that the two beds were both of Monsieur.
them so very small, as, cut us off from
to
2dly. It is required on the part of Maevery idea of the lady and the maid lying dame, that Monsieur shall lie the whole
together, which in either of them, could it night through in his robe chambre.
de
have been feasible, my lying beside them,
Rejected: inasmuch as Monsieur is
though a thing not to be wished, yet there worth a robede chambre; he having not
no,
was nothing in it so terrible which theima. thing in his portmanteau but
gination might nothave passed over with- a black silk pair of breeches. six shirts and
out torment.
The mentioning th- silk pair of breeches
SAsfor the little room within, it:
offered made an entire charge of the article-for
little or no consolation to us : 'twas a damp, the breeches were accepted as an equicold closet, with a half dismantled window- valent for the robe de chambre; and so
shutter, and with a window which had nei- it was stipulated and agreed upon, that I
ther glass nor oil paper in it to keep out should lie in my black silk breeches all
the tempest of the night. I did not endea- night.
voux to stifle my cough when the lady
3dly. It
upon
gave a peep into it; so it reduced the case for by the was insisted after and stipulated
lady, that
Monsieur was
in course to this alternative-That the lady got to bed, and the candle and fire extin.
should sacrifice her health to her feelings, guished, that*Monsieur should not speak
and take up with the closet ,herself, and one single word the whole night.
abandon the bed next mine to her maidGranted, provided Monsieur's saying his
or that the girl should take the closet, &c. prayers might not be deemed an infraction
The lady was a Piedmontese of about of the treaty.
thirty, with a glow of health in her cheeks.
There was but one point forgot
The maid was a Lyonoise of twenty, and treaty, and that was the manner in in this
which
as brisk and lively a French girl as ever the lady and myself should be obliged to
moved.-There were difficulties every way undress and get to bed ;-there was but
-and the obstacle of the stone in the road, one way of doing it, and that I leave to
which brought us into the distress, great the reader to devise ; protesting as I do
as it appeared whilst the peasants were re- it, that if it is not the most delicate in na.
moving it, was but a pebble to what lay in ture, 'tis the fault of his own imaginationour way now.-I have only to add, that it against which this isnot my first complaint.
did not lessen the weight Which hung upon
Now when we were got to bed, whether
our spirits, that we were both too delicate it was the novelty of the situation, or what
to communicate what we felt to each other it was, I know not; but so it was, I could,
upon the occasion.
not shut my eyes; I tried this side, and
.We sat down to supper ; and had we not that, and turned and turned again, till a
had more generous wine to it than a little full hour after midnight; when Nature and
inn in Savoy could have furnished, our Patience both wearing out--O spy God !
tongues had been tied up,' till necessity said Iherself had set them at liberty ;-hut the
-You have broke the treaty, Monsieur,
lady having a
bottles of Burgundy said the lady, who had no more slept than"
in hr voiture, sent down her fille de myself-I begged a thousand pardonschamdre for a couple of them ; so that by but insisted it was no more than an ejacu.
the time supper was over, and we were left iLtion.-She maintained 'twas an entire in.
alone, we felt ourselves inspired with a fraction of the treaty.-I maintained it
strength of mind sufficient to talk, at !was provided for in the clause of the third
least, without reserve upon our situation. " article.
We turned it every way, and debated and
The lady would by no means give up her
considered it in all kinds of lights in the point, though she weakened her barrier by
course of a two hours' negotiation ; at the it ; for in the warmth of the dispute,. I
end of which the articles were settled
hear two or three corking pins fall
finally betwixt us, and stipulated for in out of the curtain to the ground..
form and manner of a treaty of peace-Upon my word and honour, Madame,
andbelieve with as much religion and said I--stretching my arm out of bed oy
I
f.ood faith on both sides, as in any treaty way of asseveration.--

few

'could

THROUGH FRANCE AND ITALY.
(I was going to have added, that I would
not have trespassed against the remotest
idea of decorum for the world)But thefle de chambre hearing there
were words between us, and fearing that
hostilities would ensue in course, had crept
u
silently out of her closet; and it being totaly dark, had stolen so close to our beds,

41

that she had got herself into the narrow
passage which separated them, and had advanced so far up as to be in a line betwis t
her mistress and me:So that when I stretched out my haLd
I caught hold of the fle
de chambre'a-os

SORROWS
A

OF WERTEL

GERMAN STORY.

PR E FACE.
TiosE who expect a Novel will be disap- this little work gave occasion to, there
pointed in this work, which contains few were not wanting some which censured it:
characters and few events; and the design and Mr. Goethe had been called an apolo.
of which is to exhibit a picture of that dis- gist of suicide, by those who, not distinordered state of mind, too common in our guishing the Author from the Work, very
own country. It is drawn by the masterly Iabsurdly ascribed to him the erroneous
hand of Mr. Goethe, Doctor of Civil Law, sentiments which he has given to his prinand is perhaps little more than the relation cipal character,-a method of criticism
of a fact which happened within his know- which would equally affect all the epic
ledge. It went through several editions in and tragic writers that ever existed.
WERTER appears to have been strongly
German, and soon made its way into France.
About two years since, the English transla- impressed with sentiments of religion ;
tor met with it; and, being struck with and it is not to be wondered at, that in his
the uncommon genius and originality of state of mind they should take an irreghthe thoughts, and the energy with which lar form, and sometimes border upon exthey are expressed, translated some of the travagance. A few expressions which had
letters from the French; and led on by the this appearance have been omitted by the
beauty of the work, which increased in French, and a few more by the English
proportion as it was attended to, the whole translator, as they might possibly give of.
fence in a work of this nature.
was insensibly finished.
Among the number of pamphlets which

LETTER I.
May 4.
I AM glad that I went away.-Could that I
you, my companion, my friend, I leave
might be more at ease? The heart of man
is inexplicable. But you forgive me, I
connections I had
know you do. The sufficient to torment
formed, were they not
such a disposition as mine? Poop Eleonora ! But am I to be blamed for the tenderness which took possession of her heart,
whilst I was admiring the beauty of her
sister? No ! surely I am innocent : yet
perhaps not entirely so ; I might encourage
her affection, and you have seen me
pleased, amused, with the simple expres-

sion of her tenderness.*
Many causes
might I find of reproach; but I promise
you to desist, my dear friend. I will not always be looking back, and dwelling on the
painful remembrance of the sufferings I
have endured. I will enjoy the present
and forget the past. You are certainly in
the right; that fatal disposition which
makes us recall past scenes and past sorrows, greatly adds to the number of the
wretched.
Be so good to tell my mother that I am
employed about her affairs, and that I shall
soon write to give her an account of them.
0 This first object of his affection is supposed
to be dead, and has nothing Io do with the fSllow
ing story.

2

THE SORROWS OF WERTER.

I have seen my aunt: instead of being ill
tempered and malevolent, as she was repre.
sented to me, she is the most cheerful,
agreeable woman you ever saw, and has
the best heart in the world. I explained to
her my mother's wrongs, with regard to
that part of her portion which has been
kept back. She told me the motives for
her own conduct, and the terms upon
which she is very willing to give up the
whole, and do more than we have asked.
But I will say no more on the subject at
present; only assure my mother, that
every thing will go on well. I find on this
occasion, as on many others, that neglect and misunderstandings create more
trouble and uneasiness than dishonesty and
malice; and they are indeed much more
frequent also.
I am very well pleased with my situation
here. Solitude in this terrestial paradise
is a medicine to my mind. The delight of
spring touches my heart, and gives fresh
vigour to my soul. Every tree, every bush
is full of flowers, and a delicious perfume
fills the air. The town itself is disagreeable; but the finest kind of country and the
greatest natural beauties are in its enviIrons. Upon one of the neighbouring hills,
which form a chain, and diversify our landscape, the late Marquis of M. made a garden: it is simple, and at first sight it is
easy to perceive that it was not laid out by
a gardener, but by a man of taste and feeling for his own enjoyment. I have already
given some tears to the memory of its departed master, in an arbour that is now almost in ruins, which was his favourite spot,
and is at present mine. I shall soon have
entire possession of this garden; the
gardener is in my interest, and he won't be
a loser by it.

LETTER II.
May 10.
MY mind is calm and serene, like the first
fine mornings of spring. Solitude and
tranquillity, in a country so suited to a
disposition like mine, give me an enjoyment of life. Life itself is happiness, and
the pleasure of mere existence so entirely
absorbs me, that I neglect my talents ; I
don't draw, I can't make a stroke with the
pencil, and yet I am a greater painter than
ever. Thin undulating vapours are spread
over the plain ; thick tufted trees defend
me from the meridian sun, which only
checkers my shade with a few rays. Here,
extended on the long grass, near the fall of
a brook, I admire the infinite variety of
plants, and grow familiar with all the little
insects that surround me, as they hum
amongst the flowers, or creep in the grass.
Then I feel the divine breath of that all
powerful Being which created us; whose
eternal love supports and comforts us. A
darkness spreads over my eyes; heaven
and earth seem to dwell in my soul, and
absorb all its powers, like the idea of a
beloved mistress. Oh! that I could ex.
press, that I could describe, these great

conceptions, with the same warmth, with
the same energy that they are impressed
on my soul but the sublimity of them
astonishes and overpowers me.

!

LETTER III.
May 12.
FAIRIEs and Genii hover over my steps, or
the most lively imagination influences my
senses, and fills my heart. All Paradise is
before me. Here is a fountain, to which I
am attached by a sort of enchantment, like
Melusina and her sisters. It is a spring of
pure and clear water, which gushes from
the rock, in a cave at the bottom of one of
the hills; about twenty rough steps lead to
it; the high trees which hang
it, the
cool refreshing air of the place, every thing
is agreeable, interesting, striking. I never
fail to go to it every day, and generally
pass an hour there. The young girls come
from the town to fetch water from it-innocent and necessary employment, and formerly the occupation of kings' daughters.
The time of the patriarchs presents itself
to my imagination. 1 see our ancestors
concluding treaties and making alliances by
the side of fountains, propitious angels
bearing witness. Whoever does not enter
into these sensations, my dear friend, has
never really enjoyed cool repose by the
side of a spring, after a long summer's
walk.

over

LETTER IV.
May I3.
You offer me books; I will have nothing
to do with them: for heaven's sake don't
send me any. I don't wish to be again
guided, heated, agitated. Alas ! my heart
is of itself but too much agitated already.
I want strains that may lull me ; and Ho
mer furnishes them in abundance. Often
have I strove to calm the blood that seem.
ed boiling in my veins; often have I en.
deavoured to stop the keen and sudden
passions of my heart-but 'tis not to you
that I need explain its feelings; you
have often seen with concern my quick
transitions from sorrow to immoderate joy,
and from soft melancholy to violent and
dangerous passions. My heart is like a
sick child; and like a sick child I let it
have its way :-But that between ourselves; for I know I should be blamed
for it.

LETTER V.
May 15.
I AM already very much known and be=.
loved by all the common people here, par.
ticularly children. At first when I took
notice of them and spoke to them, they
answered me rather roughly, and thought
I meant to insult them. However, I was
not discouraged; but I found the tnrth of

THE SORROWS OF WERTER.
an observation I had often made beforethat people of condition keep their inferiors at a great distance, as if they could
lose their dignity by coming near them. It
is only a schoolboy's wantonness, or very
poor pretence to wit, which could possibly
make any body affect to descend to the
same level with their inferiors, in order
afterwards to treat them with contempt
and ridicule. I know that we are not, and
cannot be all equal; but whoever keeps
aloof from the people, in order to gain re
spect, I look upon as a coward, who hides
himself lest he should not be able to stand
before his adversary,
The last time I was at the fountain, I
found a young woman on the steps, with
her pail standing by her, waiting till somebody came who might help to put it on her
head. "Shall I help you, my dear ?" I
said. "Oh! no! Sir," she answered, colouring. "Make no ceremony," said I,
and helped her to lift the pail; she thanked me, and went up the steps.

ture; and the purest affection warmed out
hearts: and now-but she was before me
in the career; she is gone, and left me
alone in the world. Her memory will be
ever dear to my heart. Oh ! I can never
forget the strength of her mind, and the in.
dulgence of her temper.
A few days since I met with Mr. V. an
agreeable young man, with a very pleasing
countenance. He is lately come from the
university ; and does not think himself
prodigy, though he may perhaps see his su.
periority to many that he meets with. Indeed he appears to have applied a good
deal, and has acquired much knowledge
Having heard that I understood Greek,
and could draw (two very extraordinary
things in this country) he came immediately to see me, and displayed his whole
stock of literature, from Batteux to Wood,
and from De Piles to Winkelmann ; assured me he had read all the first part of
Sultzer's Theory, and was in possession of
a manuscript of De Heyne's on the Study
of the Antique. I forgave him all this.
I am become acquainted too with a very
worthy man, who is steward to the prince.
LETTER VI.
He is free and open in his manner, and
May 17.
loves society. I am told that nothing is
I HAVE
mad-i many acquaintances here; more pleasing than to see him surrounded
but I have as yet no society. I don't know by his family. He has nine children ; and
what it is in me that can attract the inha- the eldest daughter is much talked of and
bitants of this city; but they seek me, at- admired. He gave me an invitation to his
tach themselves to me, andthen I am sorry house, and I intend going the first opportuthat I can go no further with them. You nity. He is about a league and a half from
ask me, what sort of people they are here? hence, at a hunting-lodge which the prince
Just such, my dear friend, as are to be met gave him leave to inhabit, after the loss of
with everywhere else. Men are much the his wife : he loved her extremely ; and
same. The generality are forced to labour could not bear to continue in the steward's
the greatest part of their time, merely to house, where she died.
procure nourishment ; and the small porI have besides fallen in with some rid!
tion that remains is so irksome to them, culous people, or rather they have put
that they are contriving every method in themselves in my way. Every thing in
their power to get rid of it. Such is the them is insupportable; but worst of all are
lot of man !
their professions of friendship. Adieu, I
However, there is a sort of people, very think this letter must please you; it is all
good and very amiable, with whom I often historical.
forget amyself, and am dissipated enough to
enjoy great deal of that pleasure which
is natural to us. A cheerful meal, a neat
table, gayety withafrankness and openness
LETTER VII.
of heart, a walk, dance, and other little
May 22.
amusements in their company, have a good THAT life is but a dream is the opinion of
effect on my disposition : but then it is ne- many ; and it is also mine. When I see
cessary that I should forget those other the narrow limits which confine the penequalities in me which lie dormant, useless; trating active genius of man ; when I see
and which I am even obliged carefully to that all his powers are wasted to satisfy
conceal from them. Alas! this idea sinks mere necessities, the only end of which is
my spirits! and yet, my dear friend, 'tis to prolong a miserable existence; that our
the fate of all that are like me, not to be seeming care, with regard to certain in.
Understood. I no longer the friend of my quiries, is but a blind resignation ; and that
Why have
we only amuse ourselves with painting
youth ? or why did I ever know her? I brilliant figures and smiling landscapes on
might say to myself, "Werter, it is a vain the walls of our prison, whilst we see on
all sides of us the boundary which conpursuit
found ; thou arthad found it : is not to be fines us : when I consider these things, my
But I seeking what I did find
and know an exalted mind, which raised dear friend, I am silent: I examine myme beyond myself, and made me all that I self; and what do I find? Alas ! more
am capable of being. All the powers of vague desires, presages, and visions, than I
my soul were extended, and the deep sen. find of conviction, truth, and reality : then
timent which nature engraved on my heart all is chaos and confusion before my eves ;
was unfolded. What an intercourse ! Our and dreaming like others, I let myself be
ideas, our expressions, were those of na. carried away by the stream.

!"

4

THE SORROWS OF WERTER.

All wise institutors and learned teachers
agree, that children are ignorant of the
cause which excites their will. But that
the great children, as well as the little
ones, should wander upon this earth, without knowing whence they came, or whi.
ther they go; without any certain motives
for their conduct, but guided, like them,
by biscuits, sugar-plums, and rods ; this is
what nobody is willing to acknowledge,
and yet nothing, I think, can be more evident.
I foresee what you will say in answer to
this; and I will allow, that the happiest
amongst us are those, who, like children,
think not of the morrow, amuse themselves
with playthings, dress and undress their
dolls, watch with great respect before the
cup-board where mamma keeps the sweetmeats, and when they get any, eat them
directly, and cry for more: these are cer.
tainly happy beings. Many also are to be
envied, who dignify their paltry employ
ments, sometimes even their passions, with
pompous titles; and who represent them
selves to mankind as beings of a superior
order, whose occupation it is to promote
their welfare and glory. But the man who
in all humility acknowledges the vanity of
all these things; observes with what pleasure the wealthy citizen transforms his
little garden into paradise; with what patience the poor nmanbears his burden; and
that all wish equally to behold the sun yet
a little longer; he too may be at peace ; he
creates a world of his own, and is happy
also because he is a man; but however
limited his sphere, he preserves in his
bosom the idea of liberty, and feels that
he has it in his power to quit his prison.

LETTER VIII.
May 26.
You know my way of choosing a little favourite spot; how I make my arrangements, and settle myself in it. I have
found one here which entirely suits me.
About a league from the town is a place
called Walheim. It is very agreeably situated on the side of a hill; from one of
the paths which lead out of the village, you
have a view of the whole country; and
there is a good old woman who sells wine,
.
coffee, and tea, there but better than all
this are two lime-trees before the church,
which spread their branches over a little
reen, surrounded by barns and cottages.
have seen few places more retired and
peaceful. I send for a chair and table from
the old woman's, and there I drink my
coffee, and read Homer. It was by accident that I discovered this place, one ine
afternoon: all was perfect stillness; every
body was in the fields, except a little boy
about four years old, who was sitting on
the ground, and holding between his knees
a child of about six months ; he pressed
it to his bosom with his little arms, which
maide a sort of great chair for it, and notwithstanding the vivacity which sparkled
inhis black eyes, he sat perfectly still.

Quite delighted with the scene, I sat down
on a plough opposite, and had great plea.
sure in drawing this little picture of brotherly tenderness. I added a bit of the
hedge, the barn door, and some broken
cart wheels, without any order, just as they
b appened to lie; and in about an hour 1
und I had made a drawing of great ex,
ression, and very correct design, without
aving put in any thing of my own. This
confirmed me in the resolution I had before made, only to copy nature for the future. Nature is inexhaustible, and alone
forms the greatest masters. What is
alleged in favour of rules is nearly the
same as what is said in favour of the laws
of society: an artist formed upon them
will never produce any thing absolutely
bad or disgusting; as a man, who obeys
the laws, and observes decorum, can never
be a decided villain, or a very intolerable
neighbour. But yet, say what you will of
rules, they alter the true features, and the
natural expression. You will tell me, that
they only lop off superfluous branches, and
prevent the extravagant. Let us compare
talents to love, my dear friend. Let us
suppose a man attached to a young woman,
dedicating to her every hour of the day,
lwearing his health, lavishing his fortune,
Ito convince her each moment that he is
Ientirely devoted to her. Then comes a
man of cold and correct understanding; a
,man who acts perhaps in a public character; and this very respectable person says
to him, " My young friend, love is a natural passion, but it should be kept within
due bounds: make a proper division of
'your time; give some to your mistress, reserve the rest for business; calculate your
income, and out of the superfluity make
presents to her, but that only from time to
time, on her birthday, or suchlike occasions." If the young man takes this advice, he may be a very useful member of
society, extremely serviceable to his
prince; but as to his love it is annihilated;
and if he is an artist, his genius is fled.
Oh ! my friend, the torrent of genius
would not be so confined in its course; its
impetuous waves would rise and astonish
us, but that cold and narrow minded men
have taken possession of the two shores ;
they have built houses and planted gardens
on its banks; they tremble for their little
habitations, and dig trenches, and raise
dams, to prevent the danger which
threatens them.

LETTER IX.
May 27.
I FELLinto declamation and similes, I
find; 4nd my enthusiasm made me forget
to finish my narrative. Quite lost in my
ideas of painting, which I unfolded to you
at large in my last letter, I sat for two
hours upon the plough, and towards evening a young woman with a basket on her
arm came running to the children, who
had not moved in all that time, "You are
a very good boy, Philip," she called out. I

THE SORROWS OF WERTER.
got up and went towards her, and asked if
she was the mother of those pretty children; she answered, that she was, gave
the eldest a cake, took the little one in her
arms, and kissed it with a mother's tenderness. "I left the young child with
Philip," said she, "while I went to the
town with his brother to buy some white
bread, some sugar, and an earthen pot to
make broth for Jenny to-night : the boys
broke our earthen pot yesterday, as they
were quarrelling for the meat." I enquired where her other son was; and whilst
she was telling me that he was driving
home two geese, he came skipping up to
us, and gave Philip a little ozier twig. I
continued talking with the mother, and
found she was the schoolmaster's daughter,
and that her husband was gone to Holland
upon the death of an uncle he had there.
" My husband found he should be cheated
of the inheritance," said she; "for he
wrote and received no answer to his letters, and so he went himself. I have not
heard of him since he set out. God grant
that no harm may have happened to
nim !"I left this good woman with regret,
gave her a creutzer to buy white bread for
little Jenny, when she went next to the
town, and a creutzer apiece to the boys,
and so we parted.
Yes, my dear friend, when I am no
longer master of myself, nothing is more
calculated to appease the tumult of my
senses than the sight of such a tranquil be.
ing. She moves with a happy thoughtless.
ness in the confined circle of her existence; day after day passes without disquietude; and the falling leaves raise no
idea, but that of approaching winter.
Since that first evening I have gone very
often to the same place : the children are
become familiar with me; they have a bit
of sugar when I drink coffee, and at night
they partake of my whey and bread and
butter. On Sunday they regularly receive
their creutzer; for if I am not there after
evening service, the old woman has orders
to make the distribution,
They are quite at their ease with me;
tell me all they hear, and their simplicity
pleases me much. Their mother used to
be perpetually calling out, to tell them
they would be troublesome to the gentle.
man; and it is with great difficulty I have
at length prevailed upon her to let them
alone,

LETTER X.
June 16.
WHY don't I write to you ?- Do you pretend to penetration, and ask such a ques.
tion ? You should have guessed that I
was well, but that-in a word, I had found
a person that is still nearer to my heartthat I had found-I know not what I have
found,
Regularly to give you an account how I
learned to distinguish the most amiable of
women would be difflicult. I am con-

tented, happy; and consequently a bas
historian.
I must not call her an angel; that, you
will tell me, every body says of the woman
he loves: and yet I cannot describe to you
how perfect she is, nor why she is so per.
fect; she has captivated all my senses.
So much simplicity, with such an understanding; so mild, and yet so animated;
a mind so placid, and a life so active. But
all these are only the commonplace phrases
of abstract ideas, and don't express a single
character or feature. Some other time-.
but it must be now or never. For, between
ourselves, I have, since I began my letter,
been several times going to throw down my
pen and fly to her. I made a vow not to
go thither this morning; and I run every
moment to the window to see if the sun is
still high.
I was not able to hold out; I went
there: I am now returned; and, whilst I
am eating my bread and butter, will write
to you, my dear friend.
Nothing can be
more touching than to see her in the midst
of her little family. But if I go on in this
manner, you will know no more at the end
of my letter, than you do at the beginning.
Be all attention then: for I shall endeayour to give some method and order to my
relation, and enter into a great many details.
I wrote you word, some time ago, that I
had made an acquaintance with Mr. J. the
prince's steward; and that he had invited
me to go and see him in his retirement, or
rather in his little kingdom. I neglected
going, however: and perhaps should never
have gone, if chance had not discovered
to me the hidden treasure which it contained.
Some of our young men proposed a little
dance in the country, in which I very
readily joined. I chose a good pretty girl
for my partner, and rather agreeable too,
but nothing very striking; and it was
agreed that I should take a coach, and
with my partner and her aunt, should call
upon Charlotte, and carry her to the ball.
"You will see a very charming girl," said
the young lady, when we same into the
avenue which leads to the hunting lodge.
"And take care you don't fall in love with
her," added her aunt. " Why ?" said I.
"Because she is already engaged to a very
worthy man," she replied, "who is now
gone to settle his affairs upon the death of
his father, and solicit a very lucrative employment." This intelligence appeared a
matter of great indifference to me. When
we arrived at the gate, the sun was sunk
near the tops of the mountains, the air
was heavy, and the low black clouds seem.
ed to be gathering in the horizon. The
women began to be apprehensive, and I
foresaw myself a great probability of our
party being interrupted; but in order to
give them comfort, I put on a very saga.
cious look, and assured them the weather
would be fine.
I got out of the coach. A maid came
down, and desired us to wait one minute
for her mistress. I crossed the court, went

THE SORROWS OF WERTER.
up stairs, and as I entered the apartment I
saw six children, the eldest of which was
but eleven years old, all jumping round a
young woman, very elegantly shaped, and
dressed in a plain white gown with pink
ribands. She had a brown loaf in her
hand, and was cutting slices of bread and
butter, which she distributed in a graceful
and affectionate manner to the children,
according to their age and appetite. Each
held up its little hands all the time the
slice was cutting, thanked Charlotte when
he received it, and then ran to the door to
see the company, and look at the coach
which was come to fetch her. " I beg pardon," she said, " for having given you the
trouble to come up, and am sorry to make
the ladies wait; but dressing, and some
family business, made me forget to give my
children their little meal, and they don't
like to receive it from any body else." I
muttered something, I don't know whatmy whole soul was taken up with her air,
her voice, her manner; and before I could
recover myself, she ran into her room, for
her gloves and fan. Whilst she was gone
out the little ones eyed me askance. I
went up to the youngest, who has a most
pleasing countenance: he drew back, and
Charlotte, just then coming in, said,
"Lewis, shake hands with your cousin."
The little fellow held out his hand very
readily, and 1 gave him a kiss. "My cousin," said I to the amiable Charlotte, as I
handed her down, " do you think I deserve
the happiness of being related to you ?"
She archly replied, " Oh ! I have such a
number of cousins, I should be sorry you
were the most undeserving of the whole
set." When Charlotte took leave of them,
she desired Sophy, who was the eldest of
those left at home, to take great care of the
children, and to go to her papa when he returned from walking. She told the little
ones to mind their sister Sophy as much as
if it was herself ; and some promised faithfully that they would : but a little fair girl
of six years old, looked rather discontented, and said, "But she an't Charlotte
though for all that, and, Charlotte,
we love you best." During this time the
two eldest boys bad got up behind the coach,
and at my requ est she gave them leave to
go to the end of the wood, upon condition
that they would sit very still, and hold
fast.
We had just seated ourselves in the carriage, talked about the new fashions and
little hats, and the company we were to
meet at the ball, when Charlotte stopped
the coach, and made her brothers get
down. They would kiss her hand again
before they went: the eldest showed all
the tender attention of a boy of fifteen,
and the youngest a great deal of warmth
and affection. She desired them again to
give her love to the children; and we
drove on.
The old lady asked her if she had read
the book she last sent to her. " I cannot
say I have," said Charlotte, "and I will
return it to you. I confess I was not
pleased with that, any more than with the

first which you sent me." Imagine my
surprise, when, having asked the title, she
told me it was . Penetration and
judgment appeared in every thing she said ;
each expression seemed to light up her features with new charms and new rays of
genius, which were unfolded by degrees as
she found herself understood.
" When I was very young," she added,
" I loved romances better than any thing
in the world. Nothing could equal my delight, when I got into a corner on a holi.
day, and entered with my whole heart and
soul into all the joy or sorrow of a Miss
Jenny. I confess that sort of reading has
still some charms for me; but as I don't
read much, the books I do read should be
suited to my taste. I prefer the authors
who don't carry me to scenes too far removed from my own situation in life, but
where I may suppose myself and those that
are about me; and whose stories are inter.
esting, touching, like the life I lead in the
bosom of my family; which, without being
absolutely paradise, is a continual source
of satisfaction and delight."
I endeavoured to conceal the emotion
which these last words occasioned; and it
did not last long; for, after she had given
her opinion of the Vicar of Wakefield, &c.
&c. with equal justice and discernment, I
could hold no longer; and I began with
great eagerness to tell her what were my
own thoughts on the subject. After some
time, when Charlotte at length addressed
herself to the other two ladies, I just perceived that they were still in the coach.
The old lady looked at me several times
with an air of raillery, which however [
did not at all mind.
We then talked of dancing. "If it is a
fault to love dancing," said she, "I will
freely own that I am extremely guilty; no
amusement is more agreeable to me. If
any thing disturbs me I go to my harpsi.
chord, play some of the lively airs I have
danced to, and all is forgotten."
You
know me, and will figure to yourself my
countenance whilst she was speaking-My
looks steadfastly fixed upon her fine black
eyes; my very soul attached to hers, and
seizing her ideas so strongly that I hardly
heard the words which expressed them
At length I got out of the coach like one
that dreams; and I found myself in the
assembly room, without knowing how I
came there.
They began with minuets. I took out
one lady after another, and exactly those
who were the most disagreeable could not
bring themselves to leave off. Charlotte
and her partner began an English country
dance. Imagine my delight when they
came to do the figure with us. You should
see Charlotte: she seems to dance with all
her heart and soul, and as if she was born
for nothing else; her figure is all elegance,
lightness, and grace. I asked her to dance
the second country dance with me; she
was engaged, but promised herself to me
for the third; telling me at the same
time, with the most agreeable freedom,
that she was very fond of allemandes.

THIE SORROWS OF WERTER.
i"t Is the custom here," said she,
" for every couple to dance the allemandes
together; but my partner will be delighted
if I save him the trouble, for he does the
walse very ill; I observe the lady you
dance with is in the same situation. I am
sure by your English country dances, that
you must do the walse very well yourself ;
so that, if it is agreeable to you to dance the
allemandes with me, do you propose it to
my partner; I will propose it to yours."
We went to settle this affair; and it was
agreed that during the allemandes, Charlotte's partner should attend upon mine.
We began; and at first amused ourselves
with making every possible turn with our
arms. How graceful and animated are
all her motions ! When the walse commenced, all the couples, which were
whirling round, at first jostled against each
other. We very judiciously kept aloof till
the awkward and clumsy had withdrawn ;
when we joined in there were but two
couples left. I never in my life was so active; I was more than mortal. To hold
in my arms the most lovely of women, to
fly with her like the wind, and lose sight of
every object !-But I own to you, I then
determined, that the woman I loved, and
to whom I had pretensions, should never
do the walse with any other man.-You
will understand this.
We took a few turns in the room to recover our breath : and then Charlotte sat
down, and I brought her a few slices of lemoll, all indeed that were left, which I stole
from those who were making the negus:
she eat some with sugar, and seemed to be
refreshed by them; but I was obliged in
politeness to offer them to the lady who sat
next Charlotte, and she very injudiciously
took some.
We were the second couple in the third
country dance. As we were going down
(and heaven knows with what ecstacy I
looked at her arms, and her eyes which
bore the impression of a natural and lively
pleasure) a lady of a certain age, whose
agreeable countenance had struck me at
first sight, looked at Charlotte, and smiled;
then held up her finger in a threatening
attitude, and in a very significant tone of
voice said, " Albert! Albert!"
" Who is this Albert," said I to Charlotte, "if it is not impertinent ?" She was
going to answer, when we were obliged to
separate for hands six round at bottom;
and in crossing over I thought I perceived
that she looked pensive. " Why should I
conceal it from you ?" said she, when she
gave me her hand to lead out of sides;
Albert is a worthy man to whom I am
engaged." I had been told this before by
the ladies in the coach, but I had not then
seen Charlotte; I did not know her value,
I seemed to hear it for the first time. I
was distressed, confused, wrong in the
figure, and put every body out; and Charlotte, by pushing one and pulling another,
with great difficulty set us right again,
Whilst we were dancing, the lightning,
which had for some time been seen in the
horizon, and which I had declared to be

7

only summer lightning, and proceeding
entirely from heat, became much more
violent, and the thunder was heard
through all the noise of the fiddles.
Three ladies run out of the set; their
partners followed; the confusion became
general, and the music stopped. When
any distress or terror comes upon us in a
scene of amusement, it has a stronger, effect on our minds, either because the contrast makes us feel it more keenly; or rather, perhaps, because our senses being
open to impressions of all kinds, the shock
is more forcibly and quickly perceived.
This circumstance may account in some
measure for the extraordinary contortions
and shrieks of the ladies. One of the
most courageous sat down with her back
to the window and stopped her ears; another knelt down before her, and hid her
face in her lap; a third shoved herself
between them, and embraced her little sister, shedding at the same a torrent of
tears : some insisted upon going home;
others, still more distressed, did not attend
to their indiscreet partners, who were
stealing from their lips those sighs that
were addressed to heaven. Some of the
gentlemen went down stairs to drink a
bottle quietly; and the rest of the com.
pany very willingly followed the mistress of
the house, who had the good sense to con.
duct us to a room darkened by close win.
dow shutters. As soon as we came into it,
Charlotte drew the chairs round, made us
sit down in a ring, and was eager to begin
some little play.
More than one of our belles drew up and
looked prim, in hopes of some agreeable
consequences from the forfeits.
Let us
play at counting," said Charlotte. " Ob.
serve, I am to go from right to left; you
are to count one after the other as you sit,
and count fast: whoever stops or mistakes
is to have a box on the ear, and so on till
we have counted to a thousand." It was
pleasant to see her go round with her hand
up. " One," says the first, " two," the
second, "three," the third, and so on, till
Charlotte went faster and faster. One then
mistook; instantly a box on the ear: the
next laughed instead of saying the follow.
ing number---another box on the ear; and
still faster and faster. 1 had two for my
share; I fancied they were harder than
the rest, and was much delighted. A general confusion and laughter put an end to
the play long before we got to a thousand.
The storm peased; the company formed
into little parties; Charlotte returned to
the assembly room, and I followed her. As
we were going, she said, "The blows I in.
flicted made them forget their apprehensions; I myself was as much afraid as any
body, but by affecting courage to keep up
the spirits of the company, I really lost my
fears." We went to the window, and still
heard the thunder at a distance; a soft
rain watered the fields, and filled the air
with the most delightful and refreshing
smells. Leaning upon her arm, Charlotte
fixed her eyes on the country before us,
then rgised them to heaven, and thea

8

HE SORROWS OF WERTER,

laws of custom, and to embarrass them.
selves no longer with what passes either to
the right or to the left.
When I first came hither, and from the
top of the hill contemplated the beauties
of this vale, you cannot imagine how I
was attracted by every thing I saw round
tne. The little wood opposite, how delightful to sit under its shade ! how fine the
view from that point of rock ! How agree.
ably might one wander in those close val
leys, and amongst those broken hills! I
went and came without having found what
I wished. Distance, my dear friend, is
like futurity; a darkness is placed before
LETTER XI.
us, and the perceptions of our mind are as
June 19.
obscure as distant objects are to our sight.
where I broke off my narra, We ardently wish for a warm and noble
FORGET
tion; I recollect nothing about it; all ,I energy which might take possession of our
know is, that it was two in the morning souls; we would sacrifice our whole being
when I went to bed, and if I could have to be filled with such a sentiment.
So the most determined traveller returns
talked to you instead of writing to you, I
should certainly have kept yoi till day- at length to his country, and finds in his
own cottage, in the arms of his wife, in
light.
I believe I did not tell you what passed the society of his children, and in the
in our return from the ball, and to-day 1 labour necessary to maintain them, all the
have not time neither. There was a beau- happiness which he sought in vain in the
tiful sunrising; the whole country was re- vast deserts of the world.
When I go to Walheim at sunrise,
freshed, and the rain fell drop by drop from
gather my own pease, and sit in a corner
the trees in the forest.
Our companions were asleep: Charlotte to shell them, and read Homer; when I
asked me, if I did not wish to sleep too ? go into the little kitchen and make a soup
and desired I would not make any cere- of them, I figure to myself the illustrious
mony on her account. Looking steadfastly lovers of Penelope killing and dressing
at her I answered, "As long as those eyes their own meat. All descriptions of the
continue open, I cannot close mine." We patriarchal life give me the most calm and
both remained awake till we came to her agreeable ideas; and now, thank Heaven,
door: the maid opened it softly, and an- I can compare to it the life I lead myself.
swered to Charlotte's inquiries, that every Happy it is for me that my heart is capabody was well, and still in bed, I left her, bleof feeling the same simple and innocent
promising to see her again in the course of pleasure as the peasant who sees on his
the day. I kept my word; and since that table the cabbage he has raised with his
time, sun, moon, stars, may rise and set as own hand; and who not only enjoys his
they will; I know not whether it is day or meal, but remembers also, with delight,
whether it is night; the whole world is the fine morning in which he planted it,
i the soft evenings in which he watered it,
now nothing to me.
and the pleasure he had in seeing it grow
and flourish.

turned them upon me; they were wet;.
- she put her hand upon mine, and said,
" Klopstock !" I was oppressed with the
sensations I then felt; I sunk under the
vweightof them; I bent down upon her
hand, and wetted it with my tears ; as I
raised myself, I looked steadfastly in her
face. Divine Klopstock ! why didst thou
not see thy apotheosis in those eyes? And
thy name, so often profaned, why is it
ever pronounced by any voice but Charkotte's ?
,

T

LETTER XII.
LETTER XIII.
MY days are as happy as thpse which are!
teserved for the Elect; and whatever may
be my fate hereafter. I will never say that i THE day before yesterday the physician
I have not tasted happiness, and the purest came from the town to make a visit to the
happiness of life. You know Walheim; I i steward's. He found me upon the floor
am now entirely settled there: there I am playing with Charlotte's children; we were
but half a league from Charlotte; there I tickling one another, and romping, and
enjoy myself, all'the pleasure that a making, a great noise. The doctor is very
and
mortal is capable of. When I chose Wal- formal and very solemn; adjusts the plaits
helm for the end of my walks, I little of his ruffles whilst he is discoursing with
thought that all heasven was so near it. you, and draws his chitterling up to his
hin, He thought this conduct of rhine
How many times, in my long rambles,
have I seen this hunting lodge, which now very much beneath the dignity of man: I
contains the object of all my vows ! some- perceived it by his countenance; but I
times from the top of the hill, sometimes nevertheless continued to rebuild the
from the meadow on the opposite side of houses of cards whioh the children had
blown down. He told every body, when
river,
I have often reflected on the desire men he went back, that the steward's children
have to extend themselves, and to make ,erespoiled enough before, but that now
new discoveries; and upon that secret im- Werter entirely ruined them.
pulse,
which afterwards inclines them to
Nothing touches me more than children,
return to their circle, to conform to the my dear friend, when I consider them and

%he

rHE SORROWS OF WERTER.
observe in the little beings the seeds of all
those virtues and qualizes which will one
day be so necessary to them: when I see,
in the obstinate, all the future firmness
and constancy of a great and noble character; in the capricious, that levity and
gayety of temper which will make them
lightly pass over the dangers and sorrows
of life; and when I see them all openness
and simplicity, then I call to mind the di"
vine words of our teacher, If you do not
become like one of these-" And these
children who are our equals, and whom
we ought to look upon as our models, we
treat them like subjects; they are to have
no will of their own.-Have we then none
ourselves ? and whence comes this exclusive right ? Is it because we are older and
more experienced? Great God! from the
height of thy glory thou beholdest great
children and little children (there are no
other), and thou hast long since declared
to which thou givest the preference! But
it has also been long since declared, that
they believe in him, and do not hear him ;
and their children are after their own
image, &c.
Adieu, my dear friend: I will not bewilder myself upon this subject any
longer.
LETTER XIV.
July 1.
CHARLOTTE
will spend some time in the
town : she is with a very deserving woman,
who has been given over by her physicians,
and who wished to have Charlotte with her
in her last moments. What consolation
she is capable of giving to the sick, I have
myself experienced, for my heart is much
diseased. I went with her last week to see
the vicar of S-; a small village in the
mountains, about a league from hence.
We got there about four o'clock ; Charlotte's little sister went with us. When we
came into the court, which is shaded by
two fine walnut-trees, the good old man
was sitting upon his bench. At sight of
Charlotte, he forgot his old age and his
oaken stick, and ventured to walk towards
her. She ran to him, and made him sit
down again, sat down by him, presented a
thousand compliments to him from her fa..
ther, and played with the youngest of his
children, the amusement of his old age,
though it was rather dirty and disagreeable.
I wish you could have seen her
attention to this good old man ; I wish
you could have heard her raising her
voice because he is a little deaf, and telling him of young and healthy people who
had died when it least could have been
expected ; commending the virtues of
the Carelstad waters, and approving his
intention of going thither next summer ;
and assuring him she thought he looked
better than he did the last time she saw
him. During this time I paid my complimnents and talked to his wife. The old
man seemed quite in spirits; and as I
could not help admiring the beauty of his
wainut-trees, which formed such an agree-

9

able shade over our heads, he began to give
"
us the history of them: As to the oldest," said he, " we don't know who planted
it; some say one clergyman, and some say
another; as to the youngest, it is exactly
the age of my wife; it will be fifty years
old next October; her father planted it in
the morning, and towards evening she came
into the world. My wife's father was my
predecessor here, and I cannot express to
you how fond he was of this tree; it is certainly not less dear to me. Upon a log of
wood, under this same tree, my wife was
sitting and knitting when I came into this
court the first time, five and twenty years
ago." Charlotte inquired after his daughter : he said she was gone with Mr. Smith
into the meadows to see the haymaking.
He then resumed his history, and told us
how he got into the good graces of his predecessor and of his daughter; how he became first his curate and then his succes.
sor; and he had scarcely finished his
story, when his daughter returned with
Mr. S. and affectionately saluted Charlotte.
She has a clear brown complexion, is well
made, lively, and a sensible worthy man
might pass his time very happi'y with her
in the country. Her lover, for such Mr.
Smith immediately appeared to be, has an
agreeable person, but was very reserved,
and would not join in the conversation,
notwithstanding all the endeavours of
Charlotte for that purpose. I was uneasy
at it, because I perceived by his countenance that it was not for want of talents,
but from caprice and ill humour. It was
but too evident afterwards, when we went
to take a walk; for whilst I was talking
and laughing with the vicar's daughter,
the countenance of this gentleman, which
before was none of the pleasantest, became
so dark and angry that Charlotte pulled me
by the sleeve to make me desist. Nothing
concerns me more than to see men torment one another; particularly when in
the flower of their age, in the very season
of pleasure, they waste their few short
days of sunshine in quarrels and disputes, and only feel their error when it is
too late to repair it. This dwelt upon
my mind; and during our collation,
the conversation turning upon the happiness and misery of this life, I could not
help taking that opportunity to inveigh bit.
terly against ill humour. "We are apt,"
said I, "to complain that we have but few
happy days; and it appears to me that we
have very little right to complain. If our
hearts were always in a proper disposition
to receive the good things which Heaven
sends us, we should acquire strength to
support the evil when they came upon us."
"But," says the vicar's wife, "we cannot
always command our tempers; so much
depends on the constitution; when the
body is ill at ease, the mind is so likewise.
"Well, let us look upon this disposition ajs
a disease," I answered, "and see if there
is no remedy for it." "That is more to
the purpose, " said Charlotte; " and I
think, indeed, a great deal might be done
in this respect. I know, for example, that

10

THE SORROWS OF WERTER.

when any thing disturbs my temper, I go, augment the happiness which I myself parinto the garden, I sing a lively air, and it take of. When their souls are tormented
vanishes." " That is what I meant," I by a violent passion, when their hearts are
replied ; " ill humour may be compared to rent with grief, I cannot give them relief
sloth. It is natural to man to be indolent; for a moment.
but if once we get the better of our in"And when at length a fatal malady
dolence, we then go on with alacrity, and seizes the unhappy being whose untimely
find a real pleasure in being active." The grave was prepared by thy hand-when
daughter listened to me with attention. stretched out and exhausted, he raises his
The young man objected, that we were not dim eyes to heaven, and the damps of death
masters of ourselves, and still less of our are on his brow-then thou standest before
feelings. 1 told him, that it was a disa- him like a condemned criminal; thou seest
greeable sensation which was in question, thy fault, but 'tis too late ; thou feelest thy
and one that every body wished to get rid want of power; thou feelest, with bitterof; that we don't know how far our ness, that all thou caust give, all thou canst
strength will go till we have tried it; that do, will not restore the strength of thy unthe sick consult physicians, and submit to fortunate victim, nor procure for him a
the most scrupulous regimen, and the most moment of consolation!"
nauseous medicines, to recover their
Inpronouncing these words, the rememhealth. I then perceived that the good brance of a like scene, at which I had been
old man inclined his head to listen to our present, came with all its weight upon my
discourse. I therefore raised my voice, heart, I put my handkerchief to my eyes, I
and addressing myself to him, said ; "There got up and left the company. The voice of
has been a great deal of preaching against Charlotte, who called me to go home, made
all crimes, Sir; but I don't know that any me recollect myself; and in our way back,
body has hitherto preached against the with what tenderness she chid me! how
spleen." "It is for those who preach in kindly she represented to me, that the too
towns," said he, "to discourse on that sub- eager interest, and the heat with which I
ject, for peasants don't know what the entered into every thing, would wear me
spleen is; though indeed it would not be out, and shorten my days!-Yes,my angel,
amiss to do it here from time to time, if it I will take care of myself; I will live for
was only for my wife and the steward." you.
We all laughed, and so did he very heartily; but it gave him a fit of coughing,
which interrupted us for
some time. Mr.
Smith resumed the subject. "You have
LETTER XV.
made this indisposition of temper a crime,"
July 6.
said he; " that appears to me to be carrying CHARLOTTE still with her dying friend;
is
the matter too far." "It is not, though," and is still the same, still the same kind atI answered, " if what is pernicious to our- tentive creature, who softens pain, and
selves, and to others, deserves the name of gives happiness whichever way she turns.
crime. Is it not enough that we are with- She went out yesterday with her little sisout the power to make one another happy, ters; I knew it, and went to meet her, and
but must we deprive each other of that sa- we walked together. In coming back totisfaction which, left to ourselves, we might wards the town, we stopped at the spring I
often be capable of enjoying ? Show me am so fond of, and which is become a thou.
the man who has ill humour, and who sand times dearer to me now that Charbears the whole burden of it himself, with- lotte has sat by the side of it. I looked
out interrupting the pleasures of those around me, and recalled the time I had
about him! No; ill humour arises from a passed there, when my heart was unoccuconsciousness of our own want of merit; pied and alone. "Dear spring," said I,
from a discontent which always accom- "I have not since that time enjoyed cool
panies that envy which foolish vanity en. repose by your fresh stream; and often
genders. We dislike to see people happy ; passing hastily by, I have not even seen
unless their happiness is the work of our you." I fixed my eyes upon Charlotte,
own hands." Charlotte looked at me, and and was struck with a lively sense of all
smiled at the heat with which I spoke; and that I possess in her.
some tears which I perceived in the eyes of
the young woman inclined me to continue.
"Woe unto those," I said, "who make
use of their power over a human heart, to
LETTER XVI.
deprive it of the simple pleasure it would
July 8.
naturally enjoy. All the favours, all the How can I be so childish ? I depend on
attention in the world cannot for a moment every turn and change of countenance.
make amends for the loss of that happi- How can I be so childish ?-We have been
ness which a cruel tyranny destroys."
at Walheim: theladies went in a carriage,
My heart was full; some recollections but got out to walk. Whilst we were
pressed upon my mind, and my eyes were walking, I thought the eyes of Charlottefilled with tears,
but I was mistaken-However, I will tell
" We should say to ourselves every day," you in two words, for I am now dying with
I exclaimed," what good can I do to my sleep. When the ladies got into their
friends ? I can only endeavour not to in- coach again, young W. Selftadt, Andran,
terrupt them in their pleasures, and try to and myself were talking to them at the

THE SORROWS OF WERTER.

11

window ; the young men were gay, and full , dence !-if ever I should dare--you under
of spirits; I watched Charlotte's eyes; stand me, my dear friend:-my heart is
they wandered from one to the other, but not so corrupt; it is weak, very weak; and
did not light onime, upon me, who stood 'is not that a degree of corruption ?
there motionless, and who saw nothing but
I look upon her as sacred, and in her
her. My heart was bidding her adieu a presence I desire nothing; when I am
thousand and a thousand times, and she near her I am all soul. There is a favou.
did not even look at me. The coach drove rite air of hers, which she plays on the
off, and a tear was ready to start. I fol- harpsichord with the energy of an angel;
lowed her with my eyes; I saw her put her it is striking, touching, and yet simple. As
head out of the window. Alas ! was it for soon as she begins it, care, sorrow, pain, all
me that she looked out? I know not; and is forgotten. I believe I perfectly compreuncertainty is my comfort perhaps.-Good hend all that is related of the magic of anuight.-I see my own weakness,
cient music. At times when I am ready
to shoot myself, she plays that air, and the
darkness which hung over me is dispersed,
and I breathe freely again.
LETTER XVII.
July 10.
You should see how foolish I look in company when her name is mentioned, when
LETTER XX.
any body talks of her, particularly when
July 18.
they ask me how I like her ?-How I like WHAT is the whole world to our hearts
her ! I detest the phrase. What must the without love? It is the optic machine of
man be who liked Charlotte, whose heart the Savoyards without light. As soon as
and senses were not totally captivated by the little lamp appears, the figures shine
her ?-How I like her !-Alittle while ago, on the whitened wall; and if love only
I was asked how I liked Ossian.
shows us shadows which pass away, yet
still we are happy, when, like children, we
are transported with the splendid phantoms.
I shall not see Charlotte to-day ; comLETTER XVIII.
pany, which I could not avoid, hinders me.
July 13.
No, I am not mistaken-I read in her eyes What do you think I have done ? I sent
that she is interested for me ; I feel it. the little boy who waits upon me, that I
And I may believe my own heart, which might at least see somebody that had been
tells me that she-dare I say it ?-Can I near her. With what impatience I waited
pronounce the divine words ?-she loves for his return, and with what pleasure I
saw him! I should certainly have taken
me.
That she loves me! Oh ! how the idea him in my arms if I had not been ashamexalts me in my own eyes ! How-I may ed.
The Bologna stone, when placed in the
tell you, for you are capable of understanding it-How I honour myself since I have sun attracts the rays, and retains them so
been beloved by her ! Is it presumption, or as to give light a considerable time after it
is it a consciousness of the truth? I do is removed into the dark. The boy was
not know a man who is capable of sup- just this to me. The idea that Charlotte's
eyes had dwelt on his features, the buttons
planting me in the heart of Charlotte :and yet when she speaks of Albert with of his coat, the cape, made all of them so
warmth, with tenderness, I feel like an interesting, so dear to me-I would not at
ambitious courtier, who is deprived of his that moment have taken a thousand
honours and his titles; or the soldier crowns for him, I was so happy to see him!
whose sword is taken from him by his Beware of laughing at me, my good
friend : nothing which makes us happy is
prince.
an illusion.
LETTER XIX.
July 16.
low my heart beats, and my blood boils
In my veins, when by accident I touch her
finger !-when my feet meet hers under the
table, I draw them back with precipitation
as from a furnace; but a secret power
again presses me forward, and disorders all
my senses.
Her innocent and easy heart does not
know, that all these little marks of confidence and friendship make my torment.
When she puts her hand upon mine, when
in the eagerness of conversation she comes
close to me, and her balmy breath reaches
my lips, the sudden effect of lightning is
not ronger. Ah I this celestial confi-

LETTER XXI.
July 19.
As soon as I opened my window this morn.
ing, I said, "To-day I shall see her," and
I calmly looked at the sun. I shall see
her, and 1 have no other wish to form for
the whole day : all, all is included in that
thought,

LETTER XXII.
July 20.
I CANNOTyet approve the scheme you have
of sending me to the ambassador of---at
.
I don't love subordination, and

THE SORROWS OF WERTER.

12

we all know too that he is a hard disagreeable man to have any connection with.
You say my mother wishes to have me employed. I could not help laughing at that,
-Am I not employed enough ? and if it
is in shelling pease and beans, it is in fact
the same. In this world all is misery; and
those who, in compliance with others, are
endeavouring to acquire riches or honours,
are, in my opinion, madmen.

LETTER XXIII.
July 24,
SINCE you are so much interested about
my progress in drawing, I am sorry to tell
you, that I have hitherto done very little
in that way. I never was in a happier disposition; I never understood Nature better; I never was more sensible of the sublime parts of it, nor entered more minutely into its details; and yet I don't
know how to express the state in which I
am: my executive powers fail me; every
thing swims and dances before me, and I
cannot make an outline. I think I should
succeed better in relief, if I was to use
clay or wax : I shall try, if this lasts any
longer. Three times I have begun Charlotte's picture, and three times have dis.
honoured my pencil. I don't know how it
is; not long ago I was very happy in taking likenesses: I have made a shadow
of her, and I mast content myself with
that.

LETTER XXIV.
July 27.
I HAVE
very often resolved not to see her
so often. It is more easy to talk than to
act. Every day I yield to the temptation;
and when I return at night, I say I won't
go on the morrow; but on the morrow I
find myself with her again, and don't
know how it has happened. Don't imagine, however, that good reasons are always wanting. One evening she said,
"You'll come again to-morrow :" I could
not then avoid going. Another day, the
weather is so fine I must walk.-I walk to
Walheim; when I am there, it is but half
a league farther. My grandmother used
to tell us a story of a mountain of load.stone : when any vessels came near it, the
nails flew to the mountain, and the un.happy crew perished amidst the disjointed
planks.

LETTL1 XXV.
ALBERT is arrived.

Were he the best and

most perfect of men, were I in

every re.-

spect his inferior, it would not be less insupportable to me to see him in possession
of so many charms, so many perfections.
1 have seen him, my dear friend; I have
seen this happy husband; he is a well bred
worthy man, whom one camnnot help liking.

Happily for me I was not at the first meting; my heart would have been torn to
pieces! and he has been so kind as not to
give Charlotte a single kiss before me.
Heaven reward him for it! The esteem he
has for this charming girl must make me
love him. He shows a regard for me; I
am certainly indebted to Charlotte for it.
Women always endeavour to keep up a
good understanding between their friends:
it don't often succeed; when it does, they
only are gainers by it. Seriously, I cannot
help esteeming Albert. The coolness and
calmness of his temper form a striking con,
trast with the impetuosity of mine; and
yet he has a great deal of feeling, and
knows the value of that happiness which
he possesses. He seems very little subject
to ill humour ; which, you know, of all
faults, is the one I am least inclined to ex.
cuse.
He looks upon me as a nian of understanding and taste. My attachment to
Charlotte, the lively interest I show for
every thing that relates to her, augment
his triumph and his love. I will not inquire whether he may not, in private,
sometimes tease her with little jealousies
in his place, at least, I know I should not
be quite easy. Be that as it will, the pleasure I enjoyed with Charlotte is at an end.
Shall I call it folly or blindness ?-But it
wants no name-the thing speaks for itself.
Before Albert came, I knew all that 1 now
know; I knew I could have vo pretenAois
to her, and I did not claim any; and now
here I am, like an idiot, staring with astonishment, because another comes and
takes her from me. I gnash my teeth, I
bite my lips, I hate and despise myself :
but I should despise the man still more,
who could tell me coldly, that I must remyself to it, for it could not be
otherwise. Let me escape from all such
silly personages !-Yesterday, after having
rambled a long time in the woods, I returned to Charlotte's house. I found her
sitting with Albert under an arbour. Not
knowing what to do, I played the fool, and
was guilty of a thousand extravagances
" For heaven's sake," said Charlotte today, "let me beg of you that we may have
no more scenes like that of last night; you
are quite alarming in your violent spirits."
Between ourselves, I have taken to watch
Albert; and when he is engaged I run
there, and am always pleased when I find
her alone.

concile

LETTER XXVI.
Aug. 8.
BELIEVE my dear friend, when I talkme,
ed of the people who might advise me to
reconcile myself to this event, and said,
" Away with such advisers!" I was very
far from thinking you could possibly be one
of them: but, in fact, you are in the right.
I will only make one objection. Of two
opposite methods which are proposed, one
seldom takes either. There are as many
various lines of conduct and opinion, as

THE SORROWS OF WERTER.

13

at court, and
there are turns of feature between an aqui- here. He is much esteemed brings him in
has obtained a place which
line nose and a flat one.
so
Give me leave then to grant all your a good income. I have seen few men
conclusions, and contrive a middle way for punctual and methodical in business.
myself, to slip between them.
You say to me, that I either have hopes
of obtaining Charlotte, or that I have not.
LETTER XXVIII.
In the first case, I ought to follow my
Aug. 12.
point, and press forward to the accomplishment of my wishes: in the second case, ALBERT iscertainly one of the best men in
the world. I had a very singular converyou tell me to act as a man, and throw
I must
yesterday,
aside the unfortunate affection, which will sation with him went to takewhich of him ;
consume all my strength. This is very relate to you. I my head toleave a few
spend
for I took it into
justly said, my dear friend, and very easy
days in the mountains, from whence I now
too to say.
up and
Would you require of a feeble man, op- write to you. As I was walking
his pistols. I
pressed by a low and languid disease, which down his room, I observedme for my jourconstitution by degrees, asked him to lend them to
is wearing out his
service," said he,
that he should put an end to his miseries ney. " They are at your
by a pistol or dagger? Does not the same "if you will take the trouble of loading
them, for I only keep them there for form."
disease, which is consuming his life, at the
: " Ever
same time deprive him of the resolution to I took one up, and he continued for my
since I had like to have suffered
put an end to it ?
keeping loaded
precaution, I have left off
You might, in return, send me a simile
him to tell me what
of the same kind.-Who would not have fire-arms." I desired
"I
an arm cut off, rather than risk his life by the accident was. said was with a friend in
; "my pistols were
he
deferring the operation ? Perhaps many the country,"and I slept with perfect tranwould.-But let us leave these compari- not loaded, one rainy afternoon, when I
: but
quillity
sons.
There are times in which I have resolu- was sitting and doing nothing, it came into
how, that the house
tion, and should perhaps go away, if I my head, I don't know
might be attacked, and that these pistols
knew where to go.
might be of use, and that we might-in
short, you know how one goes on when
one has nothing better to do. I gave my
pistols to my servant to clean and load. lib
LETTER XXVIL
Aug. 10. was playing with the maid and trying to
knows how, the
IF I were not deprived of all understand- frighten her; and, God
pistol went off: the rammer was in; it
ing, I might lead the happiest life in the went against the girl's hand, and tore off
world here; so many agreeable circum- her thumb. You may imagine the lamenstances, and of a kind to make a worthy tations and noise we had; and moreover a
man happy, are seldom united. Alas! I surgeon's bill to pay. Since that accident
feel it but too sensibly ! happiness depends my pistols have remained asyou see them.
solely on the mind! To be considered as What, indeed, is the use of precaution ?
making part of the most amiable family in we cannot, my dear friend, foresee the
the world, to be beloved by the father as a dangers which threaten us."
Do you
son, by the children as a father, and by know, I like every thing in this man ex.
Charlotte-and this worthy Albert, who cept his indeeds; and every rule has an ex.
does not interrupt my happiness by any ception. But he is so correct in his behastroke of ill humour, who salutes me cor- viour, of such perfect veracity, that if he
dially, and prefers me to every thing but thinks he has risked any thing, or been too
Charlotte! My dear friend, you would
he never ceases
like to hear us, when we talk together, and general, or not strictly true, and extenuate,
and qualify,
talk of Charlotte. In fact, nothing can be to moderate, it appears that he has said notill at length
more ridiculous than our connection, and
all. Albert now, according to
yet I am frequently softened even to tears. thing at was immersed in his text: I
When he talks to me of Charlotte's most custom,
reverespectable mother; when he describes to ceased to hear him, and was lost inmouth
reveries, I put
her
ame last moments, and the affecting ries. In these my forehead. "the
What do
of the pistol to
scen. in which she gave up to her daughback the
ter the care of her children and family ; you mean," criedl Albert, turning I. "And
when he tells me how Charlotte imme- pistol. " It is not charged," said
impatience,
diately assumed another character; what a if it is not," he answered withcannot comskilful economist, and an active housewife "what do you mean by it ? I so mad as
she became, and what a tender mother ; prehend how a man should be bare idea
the
every day displaying all these qualities, and toblow out his brains; and right has any
yet preserving her agreeable cheerfulness of it shocks me." "What
and vivacity; I walk by the side of him, man," said I, "in speaking of an action,
mad,
pick up flowers by the way, with great at- immediately to pronounce that itis ismeant
tention make a nosegay, and-throw it into or wise, or good, or bad? Whatexamined
the first brook I come to, and watch it as by all this? Have you carefully
Have
it glides gently down. I don't recollect the interior motives for the action? which
Luther I told you that Albert is to settle you fairly unfolded all the reasons
A Az

THE SORROWS OF WERTER.
rave rise to it, and which made it neces,
dary? If you did all this, you would not
be so quick with your decision." " However," said Albert, "you will allow that
some actions are criminal, whatever were
the motives for committing them."-I
granted it, and shrugged up my shoulders.
" But still, my good friend," I said,
" there are more exceptions to make. Theft
is a crime: but the man who is driven to
it by extreme poverty, with no design but
to save himself and his family from perishing for want, must he too be punished ?
and is he not rather an object of our compassion? Who shall throw the first stone
at a husband that, in the first heat of just
resentment, sacrifices a faithless wife, and
her perfidious seducer? or at a young girl
whom love only has led astray ? Even our
laws, our pedantic laws, our cold, cruel
laws, relent and withdraw their punishment."
"These examples are very different,"
said Albert; " because a man, under the
influence of violent passion, is incapable of
reflection, and is looked upon as drunk or
out of his senses." " Oh ! you people of
sound understandings," I replied, smiling,
" are very ready to pronounce sentence,
and talk of extravagance, and madness,
and intoxication; you are quiet, and care
for nothing; you avoid the drunken man,
and detest the extravagant; you pass on
the other side like the priest, and like the
Pharisee you thank God that you are not
like one of them. I have more than once
experienced the effects of drinking; my
passions have always bordered upon extravagance, and I am not ashamed to own it.
Do I not find that those superior men,
who have done any great or extraordinary
action, have in all times been treated as if
they were intoxicated or mad ?
4
And in private life too, is it not insufferable, that if a young man does any thing
uncommonly noble or generous, the world
immediately says he is out of his senses ?
Take shame to yourselves, ye people of
discretion; take shame to yourselves, ye
sages of the earth."-" This now is one of
onr extravagant flights," said Albert;
you always go beyond the mark: and
here you are most undoubtedly wrong, to
compare suicide, which is in question, with
great actions; for it can only be looked
upon as a weakness. It is much easier to
die than to bear a life of misery with fortitude."
I was upon the point of breaking off the
conversation immediately ; for nothing
puts me out of all patience, like a common.
place opinion, which means nothing,
whilst I am talking from my inmost heart.
However, 1 got the better of myself; for
having often heard this pitiful argument,
I now begin to be used to it. But I answered with some warmth, " You call this
a weakness; beware of being carried away
by sounds! Suppose a people groanma g
under the yoke of tyranrly: do you call
hem weak, when at length they throw oft
and break their chains? The man

who, to rescue his house from the flame
exerts all his powers, lifts burdens with
ease that he could scarcely move when his
mind was at peace; he who attacks and
puts to flight half a score of his enemies
are these weak people? My good friend,
if resistance is a mark of strength, can the
highest degree of resistance be called a
weakness ? Albert looked steadfastly at
me, and said, "Begging your pardon, I
don't think the examples you havebrought
have any relation to the subject in question." "That may very likely be," I an.
swered, "for I have been often told, that
my way of combining things appeared ex.
travagant. But let us try to set the matter in another light; let us examine what
is the situation of a man who resolves to
free himself from the burden of life-a
burden that is in general so much desired
-and let us enter into his feelings; for we
cannot otherwise reason fairly on the sub
ject.
" Human nature," I continued, " has
certain limits ; there is a degree of joy,
grief, pain, which it is able to endure, and
beyond that degree it is annihilated.
' We are not, therefore, to inquire whe
ther a man is weak or strong, but whether
he can pass the bounds of nature, and the
measure of his sufferings, either of mind
or body; ana I think it isas absurd to say
that a man who destroys himself is a coward, as to call a man a coward who dies of
a malignant fever." " Paradox, all para.
dox !" exclaired Albert. " Not so para.
doxical as you imagine," I replied; " you
will allow that we call a disease mortal, in
which nature is so severely attacked, and
her strength so far exhausted, that what
remains is not sufficient to raise her up and
set her going again.
" Let us apply this to the mind; let us
see how ideas work, and how impressions
fix upon it, till at length a violent passion
takes entire possession, destroys all the
powers it possessed when at ease, and en.
tirely subdues it.
" It is in vain that a man of sound un.
derstanding and cool temper sees the miserable situation of a wretch in such circumstances; it is in vain that he counsels
him: it is like the man in health, who sits
by the bed of his dying friend, but is una.
ble to communicate to him the smallest
portion of his strength."
Albert thought this too general. I quot.
ed the girl who lately drowned herself, and
made him recollect her story-" A good
young creature, so accustomed to the narrow sphere of domestic labour, and the busi.
ness of the week, that she knew of no plea.
sure but taking a walk in the fields on a
Sunday, dancing once perhaps inthe holidays, and the rest of her time only talking
with her next neighbour of the news and
little quarrels of the village. At length her
heart feels now and unknown wishes; all
that used to please her now by degrees becomes tasteless, till she meets with a man
to whom a new affection invisibly attaches
her; from that time her hopes are all cen
tred in him; the whole surrounding worln

THE SORROWS OF WERTER.

Is forgotten by her ; she

sees, hears, desires
-nothing but him; he alone occupies all her
thoughts. Her heart having never felt
the baneful pleasure arising from light
vanity, her wishes tend immediately to the
.object of them; she hopes to belong to
him, and in eternal bonds expects to enjoy
all the desires of her heart, and to realize
the ideas of happiness which she has formed. His repeated promises confirm her
hopes; his fondness increases her passion ;
her whole soul is lost and drowned in pleasure; her heart is all rapture: at length
she stretches out her arms to embrace the
object of her vows-all is vanished away ;
her lover forsakes her.-Amazed! petrified! she stands senseless before the abyss
of misery she sees encompass her ; all
around is darkness; for her there is no
prospect, nor hope, nor consolation : she is
forsaken by him in whom her life was
bound up; and in the wide universe which
is before her, and among so many who
might repair her loss, she feels alone, and
abandoned by the whole world. Thus
blinded, thus impelled, by the piercing
grief which wrings her heart, she plunges
into the deep to put an end to her torments. Such, Albert, is the history of
many men : and is it not a parallel case
with illness ? Nature has no way to escape : her powers exhausted, and contending powers to struggle with, death must be
the consequence. Woe unto the man who
could hear this situation described, and
who could say, 'A foolish girl! why did
not she wait till time had worn off the impression ? her despair would have been softened, and she would have found another
lover to comfort her.' One might as well
say, ' A fool! he died of a fever : why did
not he wait till he had recovered his
strength, till his blood was calm ? then all
would have been well, and he would have'
been alive now.' "
Albert, who did not allow the comparison to be just, made many objections:
amongst the rest, that I had only brought
the example of a simple and ignorant girl;
-but hie could not comprehend how a man
of sense, whose views are more enlarged,
and who sees such various consolations,
should ever suffer himself to fall into such
a state of despair. "My good friend," said
I, "whatever is the education of a man,
whatever is his understanding, still he is a
man, and the little reason that he possesses
either does not act at all, or acts very feebly, when the passions are let loose, or rather when the boundaries of human nature
close in upon him.-But we will talk of this
another time," I said, and took up my hat
-Alas! my heart was full-and we parted
without conviction on either side.-How
rarely do men mderstand one another !

15

would not lose me without regret; and as to
the children, they every day ask me to
come again on the morrow. I went this
afternoon to tune Charlotte's harpsichord :
but I could not contrive to do it; all the
children came about me, and asked me to
tell them a story. Charlotte was desirous
that I should please them, and I told my
very best tale of the prince that was served
by dwarfs. I improve by this exercise myself, I assure you, and am quite surprised
at the impression these stories make upon
the children. If I invent an incident at
any time, and afterwards omit it, the little
arch rogues never fail to tell me, it was not
so the first time; so that I now endeavour
to relate with great exactness, and without
any pauses, and in a tone of voice that is
almost recitative. I see by this how much
an author hurts his works by altering them
even for the better. The first impression
is readily received. A man will believe
the incredible, it will be engraved on his
memory ; and woe unto those who would
afterwards endeavour to efface it.

LETTER XXX.

WHAT constitutes the happiness of man,
must it then change and become the
source of his misery ? That ardent senti
ment which animated my heart with the
love of nature, which poured in upon me
a torrent of delight, which brought all paradise before me, is now become an insupportable torment, a demon which pursues
and harasses me incessantly. In times
past I contemplated, from the top of high
rocks, the broad river which, far as eye can
reach, waters this fertile plain. Every
thing put forth and grew, and was expanded. Around me all was in motion. I saw
these mountains covered to their summits
with high and tufted trees, and the valleys
in their various windings sheltered by
smiling woods; the peaceful stream gently
glided through the trembling reeds, and in
its calm surface reflected the light clouds,
which a soft zephyr kept suspended in the
air. I heard the birds animating the woods
with their song. Millions of insects danced
in the purple rays of the sun. The arid
rock afforded nourishment to the moss ;
and the sands below were covered with
broom. The vivifying heat, which animates all nature, was every where displayed before my eyes; it filled and warmed
my heart. I was lost in the idea of infinity. Stupendous mountains encompassed
me; precipices were before my feet; torrents fell by the side of me; impetuous
rivers ran through the plain; rocks and
mountains resounded from afar; and in
the depths of the earth I saw innumerable
powers in motion, and multiplying to infinity. All the beings of the creation, of a
thousand tribes and a thousand forms,
LETTER XXIX.
move upon the earth and in the air; and
Aug. 15.
IT is most certain that what renders one man hides himself in his little hut, and
man necessary to another is a similarity of says, "I am lord over this vast universe."
taste and sentiment. I see that Charlotte Weak mortal I all things appear little to

16

THE SORROWS OF WERTER.

LETTER XXXII
you, for you are little yourself. Craggy
Aug. 22,
mountains, deserts untrodden by the foot
of man, even the unknown confines of the MY active spirits have degenerated into
immense ocean, are animated by the breath uneasy indolence :-I cannot employ myof the Eternal, and every atom to which self; I cannot be idle. I cannot think; I
he has given existence and life finds favour am no longer sensible of the beauties of nain his sight. Ah ! how often at that time ture, and books are distasteful to me.has the flight of a sea bird, which passed When we give ourselves up, every thing
over my head, inspired me with the desire fails us.-I wish sometimes I was a mechaof being transported to the shore of the nic; when I waked in the morning I
immeasurable waters, there to drink the should have some pursuit, some hope, a
pleasures of life as in a river, and to par- task at least for the day. I often envy Altake, if but for a moment, and with the bert, when I see him buried in a heap of
confined powers of my soul, of the beati- papers and parchments up to his eyes; and
tude of the Creator, in whom we live, and I say to myself, in his place I should be
happy.-I have more than once intended to
move, and have our being !
My dear friend, the bare recollection of write to you, and to the minister, for the
these times still gives me pleasure: the employment which you think I might obvehemence of mind with which I recall tain. I believe myselfI might have it :
the sensations, which gives me faculties to the minister has long shown a regard for
express them, raises me above myself, me, and has often told me that I ought to
and makes me doubly feel my present an- seek some employment. It is the business
of an hour only: but when the fable reguish.
The curtain drops, the sceneis changed ; curs to me of the horse, who, being weary
instead of prospects of eternal life, a bot- of his liberty, suffered himself to be sadtomless pit is for ever opened before me. dled and bridled, and then found reason to
Can we say of any thing, that it exists, repent; I say, when this fable recurs to
when all passes away, when time in its me, I do not know what to determine upon.
rapid progress carries every thing with it, Besides, my dear friend, this desire to
and our transitory existence, hurried along change my situation, is it not the conseby the torrent, is either swallowed up by quence of that restless, perturbed spirit,
the waves or dashed against the rocks ? which would equally pursue me in every
There is not a moment which does not situation in life?
prey upon me, and all around me; and
every moment I am myself a destroyer.
LETTER XXXIII.
The most innocent walk deprives of life
Aug. 28.
thousands of poor insects: one step destroys the fabric of the industrious ant, IF my ills could admit of any cure, they
would certainly be cured here.-This is my
and turns a little world into a chaos ! No,
it is not the great and uncommon calami- birthday.-Very early in the morning I reties of the world, the floods which sweep ceived a little parcel from Albert: upon
away whole villages, the earthquakes that opening it, I found one of the knots which
swallow up our towns, which touch and af- Charlotte had on her sleeve the first time I
feet me, What saps my heart, is that de- saw her, and which I had several times
stroying, hidden power, which exists in asked her to give me. Albert had added
every thing. Nature has formed nothing two volumes in 12mo. of Wetstei's Howhich does not consume itself, and every mer, which I had wanted for some time,
thing that is near it: so that, surrounded the Ernesti edition being inconvenient to
by earth and air, and by all the active carry with me when I walked out. You
powers, I wander with an aching heart; see how they prevent my wishes, how wel
and the universe to me is as a fearful they understand all those little attentions
monster, which devours and regorges its of friendship, so superior to the magnificent presents of the great, which are hufood.
miliating. I kissed the sleeveknot athousand times, and every time I breathed aelight from the memory of happy daysdays which will never return. Such, my
friend, is our fate-I do not murmur at it.
XXXI.
LETTER
Aug. 20. -The flowers of life do but just show
that I stretch out my arms themselves.-How many pass away, and
IT is in vain
towards her, when I awake in the norn- leave no trace behind! how few are sucing, after the ill-omened visions of night; ceeded by fruit, and the fruit how rarely
'tis in vain that I seek her, when an inno- does it ripen !-Alas! is it not strange, my
cent dream has happily deceived me, and dear friend, that we should suffer to perish
placed me by her side in the fields; I held and to decay the little which remains and
her hand, I covered it with kisses: Alas ! ripens ?-Adieu !
It is the finest weather in the world.-In
when half asleep, I still think I touch her,
a
and then I wake entirely-torrents of tears Charlotte's orchard I often climb into
I and, be- tree, and choose pears for her; she stands
flow from my oppressed heart
reaved of all comfort, I weep over the woes under it, and takes them from me as I ga.
to come.

the r them.

THE SORROWS OF WERTER.

17

Albert promised me to come with CharAug. 30.
lotte into the garden immediately after supWRrTcn that I am, do I not take pleasure per. I was upon the terrace, under the
in deceiving myself, and am I not without thick chesnut-trees, and saw the setting
understanding ?-What will become of this sun; my eyes for the last time saw him
ardent and unbounded passion ?-I ad- sink beneath this delightful valley and sidress no prayers but to Charlotte; my lent stream. I had often been upon the
imagination sees nothing but her; all that same spot with Charlotte, and seen the
surrounds me is of no.account, but as it re- same glorious sight, and now-I walked up
lates to her.-And in this state I enjoy and down this walk, so dear to me : a sesome happy hours, till I am obliged to tear cret sympathy had often detained me there
ynvself
from her: and to that, alas ! my before I knew Charlotte; and we were
heart often forces me. When I have been pleased when, early in our acquaintance,
sitting 'y her for two or three hours, quite we found we had both had the same prediabsorbedby her figure, her attitudes, her lection for this place. Under the chesnut
divine expressions, the sentiment by de- trees there is an extensive view-But I regrees takes possession of me, and is work- member that I mentioned this to you be.
ed up o the highest excess: my sight is fore in a letter, and described how high
,afused; my breathing is oppressed; I copses enclose the end of it; how the walk
,near nothing; my veins swell; a palpita- through the wood becomes darker and
tion seizes my heart, and I scarcely know darker, till it ends in a recess, formed by
where I am, or whither I exist. Then, if the thickest trees, and which has all the
soft sensations do not prevail, as it some- charms of gloomy solitude. I still rememtimes happens,--if Charlotte does not at ber the tender melancholy which came
least allow me the melancholy consolation over my heart the first time I entered this
to bathe her hand with my tears, I am silent deep retreat. I had certainly a se
obliged to leave her, and run and wander cret foreboding that it would one day be
about the country. I climb steep rocks ; the scene of my happiness and of my torbreak my way through copses, amongst i ment.
After I had spent half an hour in the opthorns and briars which tear me to pieces,
and I feel a little relief. Sometimes I lief posite ideas of going away and returning
stretched on the ground, overcome with again, I heard them come up the terrace.
fatigue and dying with thirst: sometimes, 1 flew to meet them, and shuddering, I
late in the night, when the moon shines took Charlotte's hand, and kissed it. Just
upon my head, I lean against a bending as we reached the top of the terrace, the
tree in some sequestered forest, to ease my moon appeared behind a hill covered with
wood. Conversing on various subjects, we
wrung feet; and, quite worn out and ex
hausted, I sleep till break of day. Oh, my f came to the dark recess: Charlotte went
friend ! the dismal cell, the sackcloth, the in and sat down; Albert sat down by her
girdle with sharp points of iron, would be side; I did the same.-But my agitation
indulgence and luxury in comparison of did not suffer me to remain long seated: I
what I now suffer.-Adieu.-I see no end got up and stood before her, walked back.
wards and forwards, sat down again ;-it
tothese torments but the grave.
i was a state of violent emotions.
.-.
-.
Charlotte made us observe a fine effect
of moonlight at the end of the wood, which
appeared the more striking and brilliant
LETTER XXXV.
Sept 2. from the darkness which surrounded the
SWILL go.-My dear friend, I thank you; spot where we were. We remained for
I was in doubt, and you determine me. I some time silent; and then Charlotte said,
have resolved to leave her this fortnight; " Whenever I walk by moonlight, it brings
-it must be so.-She is returned to the to my remembrance all those who were
town, and is at the house of a friend; and dear to me, and who are no more; and I
think of death and a future state.-Yes,"
Albert-and-I will go from hence,
continues she, with a firm but touching
voice, " we shall still exist; but, Werter,
shall we find one another out P Shall we
know one another again ? What presages
LETTER XXXVI.
have you ? What is your opinion ?'"
Sept. 3.
" Charlotte," I said, holdin nut my
WHAT a night! I can henceforth bear any
thing. My friend, I shall see her no more. hand to her, and my eyes full of tears,
cannot I fall on your neck, and "we shall again see one another here and
Ah ! why
I could say no more.-My
with floods of tears express all the passions hereafter."
which tear my heart P I am sitting down, dear friend, should she have put *'e quesand trying to breathe freely, and doing all tion to me just when the thoughts of a cruel
separation filled my heart P
that is in my power to compose my mind,
"And those persons who have been dear
-I am waiting for daylight and the posthorses. Charlotte is at rest; she does not to us," said she, " and who are now no
know that she will see me no more. I tore more, do they know that when we are
myself away; and had the resolution not happy, we recall them to our memory with
to betray my intention during a conversa- tenderness ;-The shade of my mother
tion which lasted two hours--Great God ! hovers round me, when in a still evening I
sit in the midst of k er children--when I
such a conversation!
LETTER XXXIV.

I

18

THE SORROWS OF WERTER.

see them assembled about me, as they used
" You, Albert, were in the room. She
to be assembled about her ! I then raise my heard somebody move; asked who it was,
swimming eyes to Heaven, and wish she and desired you to come to her. She look.
could look down upon us, and see that I ed at us both with great composure and safulfil the promise which I made to her in tisfaction in her countenance, and said
her last moments, to be a mother to her 'they will be happy, they will be happy
children! A hundred times I have ex- with one another!' "-Albert, taking her
laimed, Pardon, dearest of mothers, par- in his arms, cried out, "Yes, Charlotte, we
don me, if I am not to them all that you are and shall be happy."-Even the calm
were!-Alas! I do all that I can; they Albert was moved ;-I was quite out of my
are properly clothed and fed, and still more, senses.
they are well educated and beloved ! If
"And such a woman," she continued
you could behold our mutual attachment, " was to leave us, Werter !-Great God!
the harmony that subsists amongst us, you must we thus part with every thing we
would give thanks to that Being to whom, hold dear in the world ! Nobody feels this
dying, you addressed such fervent prayers more keenly than children; they cried and
for our happiness."
This she said, my lamented for a long time afterwards, that
dear friend; but who could repeat all her black men had carried away their dear
words? how should cold unfeeling charac- mamma !"
ters catch the expressions of sentiment and
Charlotte got up ;-it roused me-but I
enius ? Albert gently interrupted herremained sitting, and held herhand. "Let
My charming Charlotte, you are too us go," said she; "it is quite time." She
much affected: I know these recollections drew away her hand; I grasped it still closare dear to you, but I beg-" " Oh ! Al er. " We shall seeone another again," I
bert," said she, "you do not forget, I know said; "we shall find one another out;
you do not, the evenings when we three, under whatever form it is, we shall know
during the absence of my father, used to one another. I am going; yes, I am going
sit at our little round table, after the chil. of my own accord; but if it was for ever,
dren were gone to bed. You often had a it would be more than I could bear.
book in your hand, but you seldom read Adieu, Charlotte! adieu, Albert! we shall
any of it--and who would not have pre- see one another again."-" Yes, to-morferred the conversation of that delightful row, I fancy," she added, smiling. I felt
woman to every thing in the world ? She the word to-morrow. Alas! she scarcely
was beautiful, mild, cheerful, and always knew when she withdrew her hand from
active. God knows how often I have me.-She went down the walk: I stoot
knelt before him, and prayed that I might and followed her with my eyes, then threw
be like her."
myself on the ground in a passion of tears;
I threw myself at her feet; I took her 1 got up again, and ran up to the terrace,
hands, and wetting them with my tears, and there I still saw, under the shade of
said, " Charlotte! Charlotte ! the bene. the lime-trees, her whitegown waving near
diction of Heaven is upon you, and the the garden gate. I stretched out my arms,
spirit of your mother."-" If you had but and she disappeared!
known her," she said, and pressed my
hand-" she was worthy of being known
to you."-I was motionless; never had I
received praise so flattering. " And this
LETTER XXXVII.
woman was to die in the flower of herage ;
Oct. 20.
the youngest of her children was but six I ARRIVED
here yesterday.
months old. Her illness was short; she is indisposed, and will not go The minister
was resigned and calm: nothing gave her days. If he was less peevish out for some
and morose,
any anxiety but her children, and more all would do well. I see it
but too plainly,
particularly the youngest.
When she Heaven has destined me to severe trials :
found her end approaching, she bade me but I will not be disheartened; one may
go and fetch them; and when they were bear any thing with a little levity.
I can
all around her bed, the little ones who did scarcely help smiling at the word which
not know their misfortune, and the great has just escaped me; a little of that levity,
ones who were quite overcome with sor- which I am totally without, would make
row, she raised her feeble hands to Hea- me the happiest of men. And must I des.
yen, hung over them, and prayed for them, pair of my faculties, and of the gifts of nathen kissed them one after the other, sent ture, whilst others of far inferior strength
them back, and said to me, 'Be you their and talents are parading before me with
mother.' I held out my hand to her. 'You the utmost satisfaction in themselves
?
promise much, my child a mother's fond- Great God ! amidst the blessings thou
hast
ness and a mother's care. Your tears of deigned to shower down upon me, why
affection and gratitude have often shown was I not endowed with self-complacency
me that you felt what was a mother's ten- and confidence? But patience, and
derness-show such tenderness to your will I hope be better; for I will own all
brothers and sisters: and to your father be you, my dear friend, that you were in to
the
dutiful and faithful as a wife; you will be right : since I have been obliged to mix
his comfort." She asked for him. He was continually with other men; since I
gone out to hide the bitterness of his grief; had an opportunity of observing theirhave
dehe felt all that he was to lose, and his heart signs, their conduct, their conversation,
I
was in agonies.
am become more easy, and more satisfied

THE SORROWS OF WERTER.
with myself. As we naturally compare
ourselves with every thing we meet, our
happiness or misery depends on the objects
which are brought into comparison with
us, and in this respect nothing is more dangerous than solitude. There our imagination, which is ever disposed to rise, takes a
new flight on the wings of fancy, and
forms a chain of beings, of which we are
,he last and most inferior. All things appear greater than they really are, and all
seem superior to us; and this operation of
the mind is natural. We are continually
feeling our own imperfections; we think
we have observed in others qualities which
we have not, and conclude they also possees all we have ourselves; and thus we
have made a perfect, a happy man:-but
such a man exists only in our imaginations.
But when, in spite of weakness and disappointment, we direct our endeavours to
one end, and steadily persevere in the pursuit of it, we often find that we have made
more way, though continually tacking,
than others with all the assistance of wind
and tide; and yet that is a true judgment
which we form of ourselves from our situation with others, whether we are on a line
with them, or before them.

LETTER XXXVIII.
Nov. 10.
1 BEGIN think my situation more tolerato
ble; I am much occupied; and the numher of actors, and the different parts they
play, make a very amusing variety in the
scene. I have made an acquaintance with
the Count of C----, and I esteem him
more and more every day. He is a man
of strong understanding, and great discernment : but though he sees farther than
other people, he is not therefore cold in his
temper and manner; his sensibility surpasses all his other qualities. One morng that I went to speak to him upon business, he expressed a friendship for me; by
the first word he perceived that we understood each other, and that he might talk to
me in a style different from that he made
use of with most of the others.
I cannot express the satisfaction I receive from the openness of his conduct
with regard to me. It is the greatest of
pleasures when a delicate mindthus lays itself open to one.

LETTER XXXIX.
Dec. 24,
I FORESAW the minister occasions me
it;
a number of vexations. It is the most
punctilious blockhead under heaven; he
goes on step by step, with the trifling minuteness of an old woman. But how can
a man be pleased with other people who is
never satisfied with himself? I like to go
on with business regularly and with alacrity; and when it is finished, that it
should be finished. But not so with him;

19

he is capable of returning my draught to
me, and saying, " It will do; but go over
it again however, there is always something
to correct; one may find a better phrase,
or a properer word."-I then lose all pa.
tience, and wish myself at the deviL Not
a conjunction, not one connecting word
must be omitted; and as to the transposi.
tions, which 1 like, and which flow naturally from my pen, he is their mortal foe.
If every sentence is not expressed exactly
in the style of the office, is quite lost.
he
It is deplorableto have any connection with
such a personage.
The only thing which gives me satisfac
tion, is my intimacy with Count C -.
He very frankly told me, the other day,
how much he was displeased with the difficulties and delays of the minister; that
people of his cast must make every thing
troublesome to themselves and to others :
" But," added he, "one must submit, as a
traveller that is obliged to climb over a
mountain; if the mountain was not in the
way, his road would undoubtedly be shorter, and more convenient, but in fine, there
it is, and he must go over it."
The old man perceives the count's preference for me: it makes him angry.
When I am present, he takes every oppor.
tunity to depreciate the count: I natu.
rally take up his defence, and that increases
his displeasure.
Yesterday I was well
aware that when he aimed a stroke at my
friend, he meant that it should also hit me.
-" For the common affairs of the world,"
said he, "the count may do very well; his
style is good, and he writes with facility ;
but, like other great geniuses, he has no
solid learning." I longed to strike him;
for to what purpose is argument with such
a kind of animal? However, as that was
not possible, I answered, with some
warmth, that every respect was dueto him,
both for his understanding and his charac.
ter;that he was the only man I had ever
met with, whose extensive genius raised
him so high above the common level, and
who yet retained all his activity in business.
This was algebra to his conceptions; and I
withdrew, lest some new absurdity in him
should raise my choler too much. It is
you that are the authors of my ill fortune
you, all of you, who forced me to bend my
neck to this yoke, and preached activity to
me. If the man who plants potatoes, and
carries them to town on market-days, is
not a more active being than I am, thed
let me work ten years longer at the cursed
galley to which I am now chained.
And distaste and lassitude, those fashion.
able miseries which reign amongst the
silly people who affect an unmixed society; the ambition of rank! how they toil,
how they watch to gainprecedence! What
poor and contemptible passions, and how
plain to be seen ! We have a woman here,
for example, who never ceases to entertain
the company with accounts of her family
and her estates. Any stranger who heard
her would suppose she was a silly creature,
whose head was turned by some slight pretence at least to rank, or the lordship of a

20

THE SORROWS OF WERTER.

manor; but, still more ridiculous, she is
the daughter of a steward's clerk in this
neighbourhood! I cannot conceive how
the human race can so debase itself.
I do indeed every day perceive more and
more how absurd it is to judge of others by
one's self. And it is with so much difficulty that I stop the ferment of iny blood,
and keep my heart at peace, that I very
readily leave every one to pursue the path
he has chosen; but at the same time I ask
a like permission for myself.
These paltry distinctions between the inhabitants of the same town are what disturb
me most. I know perfectly well, that inequality of conditions is necessary, and how
much I myself gain by it. But I would
not have this institution come in my way
and hinder me, when I might enjoy some
pleasure, some shadow of happiness upon
this earth,
I have lately made an acquaintance with
a Miss B. a very agreeable girl; who, notwithstanding the formality and stiffness of
the people about her, has retained a very
easy and unaffected manner. The first
conversation we had together equally
pleased us both; and when we parted I
desired leave to pay my respects to her;
which she granted in so obliging a manner
that I waited with impatience for the time
to avail myself of it. She is not of this
place, but lives here with an aunt. The
countenance of the old virago displeased
me at first sight ; however I paid her great
attention, and often addressed myself to
her. In about half an hour, I pretty
nearly guessed what her niece has since
acknowledged. This good aunt, who is in
years with a small fortune, and still smaller share of understanding, has no satisfaction but in the long list of her ancestors :
no protection but her noble blood; this is
the defence, the rampart, with which she
surrounds herself ; and her only amusement is standing at her window to look
down with sovereign contempt on the ignoble heads which pass under it in the
street. This ridiculous old woman was formerly handsome, and many a young man
was the sport of her caprice: that was the
golden age. Her charms faded, she was
forced to accept of an old half-pay officer,
and be subservient to his will: that was
the age of brass. Now she is a widow, and
deserted; was it not for her agreeable
niece, nobody would take notice of her :this may truly be called theiron age.

LETTER XL.
Jan. 8, 1772.
men are these !-Form occupies
their whole souls: they can employ their
time and thoughts for a whole year together, in contriving how to get nearer, by
one chair only, to the upper end of the
table.-And do not call it idleness; for on
the contrary they increase their labour, by
giving to these trifles the time they ought
to employ in business. Last week, in a
party upon the ice in sledges, there was a
WHAT

dispute for precedence, and the party was
immediately broken up.
The idiots ! they do not see that it is not
the place which constitutes real greatness :
the man who enjoys the highest post very
rarely acts the principal part; many a king
is governed by his minister, and many a
minister by his secretary. Who is in that
case to be accounted the first, and chief? Is
it not the man who has the power or the
address to make the passions of others subservient to his own designs?

LETTER XLI.
Jan. 20.
I MUST write to you from hence, my dear
Charlotte; from a cottage where I have
been obliged to take shelter from a violent
storm. In all the time that I have spent
in that melancholy town, amidst strangers
-strangers indeed to this heart-I have
not been impelled to write to you: but in
this cottage, in this retirement, in this sort
of imprisonment, whilst the snow and hail
are driving against my little window, I find
myself restored to you and to myself. The
moment I entered, your figure presented
itself before my eyes, and the remembrance
of you filled my heart. Oh! my Charlotte,
the sacred remembrance! the tender recollections !-Gracious Heavens! restore
to me that first moment in which I beheld her.
Could you but see me, my dear Charlotte, in that vortex where everything dissipates, and nothing touches me! My
senses are dried up; my heart is at no time
full; I never shed the soft tears of tenderness; nothing, nothing touches me. I
stand, as it were, before the raree show; I
see the little puppets move, and I say to
myself, it is a deception of optics. I am
amused with these puppets, or rather I am
myself one of them. I take the hand of
the man who stands next to me, I feel that
it is made of wood, I shudder and draw
mine back. I have found but one being
here that is of the same order with you, a
Miss B She resembles you, my dear Charlotte, if indeed it is possible for any thing
to resemble you. "Ah !" you will say,
"he has learned to make elegant compliments." And there is some truth in your
observation. I have been prodigiously
agreeable lately, not having it in my power
to be any thing better. I have a great deal
of wit too, and the women say that nobody
understands better how to deal out panegyric
-" and lies," you will add, for one always accompanies the other.-But I meant to talk
to you of Miss B. She has great sensibility and a superior understanding; her fine
blue eyes show evident marks of both.
Her rank is a burden to her, and gratifies
no one passion of her soul; she would
gladly leave this crowd; and we often indulge our imagination in talking, for hours
together, of happiness in retired and country scenes, and near you, my dear Charlotte;-for she knows you, she does homage
to you; but the homage is not exacted ;

THE SORROWS OF WEIRTER.
she loves you, and takes great pleasure in
hearing me talk of you.
Oh ! why am I not at your feet in your
favourite little room, and the dear children playing round us! If their noise became troublesome to you, I would tell them
a story, and they would crowd about me
with silent attention. The sun is setting ;
his last rays shine on the snow which covers the face of the country; the storm is
over, and I-must return to my dungeon.
Adieu !--Is
Albert with you, and what is
he to you ? Fool that I am! should I ask
this question ?

21

LETTER XLIV.

March 15.
I HAVE just had an adventure which wilt
drive me from hence: I lose all patience.
-Death!-it is not to be remedied : and
you only are the cause of all this;-you
that drove me on, and urged and tormented me;-you that made me take an employment I am by no means fit for. I have
great reason now to be satisfied-so have
you! But, that I may not again be told,
that the impetuosity of my temper ruins
every thing, I here send you, Sir, a plain
and simple narration of the affair, as any
mere chronicler of facts would relate it.
The Count of Olikes me, distinguishes me; it is known that he does; I
have mentioned it to you a hundred times.
LETTER XLII.
Yesterday I dined with him ; it was the
day on which all the nobility met at his
Feb. 17.
ORa minister and I don't seem as if we house. I never once dreamed of the asshould continue much longer together : his sembly, nor that we subalterns were exmanner of treating a subject, and of doing cluded. In short, I dined with the Count,
business, is so absurd, that I cannot help and after dinner we went into the hall,
contradicting him very often, and doing and talked, and walked backwards and for.
things my own way; and then, of course, wards.-Colonel B. who came in, joined in
he thinks them very ill done. He men- the conversation, and the time passed away
tioned something of this kind lately in a till the company came. God knows, I was
letter to court, and I had a reprimand from thinking of nothing! when entered the
right noble and right honourable Lady of
the minister there-very gentle indeed, accompanied by her husband and
but still it was a reprimand; and I had re- Tsolved to resign, when I received a private their silly daughter, with her small waist
letter, before which I humbled myself, and and flat neck; with disdainful looks and a
adored the wise, the noble, the exalted ge- haughty air they passed by me. As I hate
nius which dictated it-which endeavoured the whole race, I intended to go away, and
to sooth my painful sensibility-expressed was only waiting till the Count had disenan approbation of my schemes, and an gaged himself from their impertinent
prate, to take ldave, when the agreeable
opinion of their weight and influencecondescending to inquire into business, as Miss B. came in. As I never see her but
well as to examine the ideas of an impetu- with pleasure, I stayed and talked to her,
ous young man. How I am exhorted not leaning over the back of her chair, and did
to extinguish this fire, but to soften it, and not perceive till after some time that she
keep it within due bounds, that it may be seemed a little confused, and did not speak
to me with her usual ease of mannier. I
productive of good!
So now I am no
longer at variance with myself, but settled, was struck with it. "Heavens!" said I
determined-at least for a week to come. to myself, "can she too be like all the
Content and peace of mind are valuable rest?" I was angry, and going to withthings, my dear friend; but if they are draw; but the desire of examining farther
into this matter kept me. The rest of the
precious, they are also transitory.
company came. I saw the Baron F--enter with the same coat that he wore at
the coronation of Francis the first; the
Chancellor, and his wife, who is old and
LETTER XLIII.
deaf; the Count of I, whose Gothic
dress made a still greater contrast to our
Feb. 20.
GOD bless you, my dear friends! and may modern coats, &c. &c. I spoke to those
that I knew amongst them; they were all
he grant to you that happiness which lihe
denies to me! I thank you, Albert, for very laconic in their answers. I was taken
having deceived me.-I waited for the up with observing Miss B. and did not see
wedding day to be fixed, and on that day I that the women were whispering at the end
intended with solemnity to have taken of the room, and that by degrees the same
down Charlotte's profile from the wall, and whispering and murmuring got round
with some other papers to have buried it. amongst the men, and that Madame S. was
You are now united, and her picture still speaking with great warmth to the Count
remains there. Well, let it remain. Why -(this I have since learned fronm Miss B.)
hould it not? Does not Charlotte find -At length the count came up to me, and
room for me in her heart? Yes, you may took me to the window-" You know our
allow me to occupy the second place there, ridiculous customs," lie said; "I perceive
and I will, I ought to keep it; I should the company is rather displeased at your
become furious if she could forget--Al- being here: I would not upon any acbert, that thought is hell.-May you be count-."
"I beg your excellency's
happy, Albert !-Charlotte, angel of light, pardon; I ought to have thought of it be.
fore: but I know you will excuse this little
may you be the happiest of women I!

22

THE SORROWS OF WERTER.

Inattention. I was going," I added,
"some time ago, but my evil genius kept
me here;" and smiling, I bowed to take
leave. He shook me by the hand in a
manner which expressed every thing. I
made a bow to the whole illustrious assembly, got into my chaise, and drove to M.I contemplated the setting sun from the
top of the hill.-I read that beautiful passage in Homer, where the honest herdsmen are described receiving the king of
Ithaca with so much hospitality; and I
returned well pleased. When I went into
the supper-room at night, there were but
a few persons assembled, and they had
turned up a corner of the tablecloth, and
were playing at dice. The good natured
.Adelin came up to me as soon as I entered, and in a low voice said, "You have
met with a very disagreeable incident.""'Who, 1 ?"-"

The Count obliged

you

to

wiped them away, without endeavouring
to hide them. "You know my aunt," she
continued; "she was present, and, good
God ! in what a light does she consider the
affair! Werter, what lessons have I heard
last night and this morning upon my connection with you ! I have been obliged to
hear you debased and run down; and I
could not, I dared not say much in your
defence."-Every word was a dagger; she
did not know that in pity to me she should
have concealed all that she informed me
of.-She told me too all the impertinent
nonsense that would be circulated upon
the occasion, and how the malicious would
triumph; how they would rejoice that my
pride was humbled; and how happy it
would make them to see me punished
for that want of esteem for others, with
which I had been often reproached. This
is what she told me, and in a manner which
showed the warmest interest; this is what
I was forced to hear-it awakened all my
passions, and I still breathe rage and fury.
Would that I could find a man who dared
banter me on this event !-1 would sacrifice him instantly to my resentment ; it
would be a relief to me to discharge my
fury on the first object I met;-a hundred
times have I caught up a sword to give
vent to my oppressed heart. There is a
noble race of horses, which will instinctively open a vein with their teeth, when
they are heated by a long course, in order
to breathe more freely-I am often tempt.
ed to open a vein, and procure for myself
everlasting liberty.

withdraw from the assembly."-' Devil
take the assembly !" said I, " I was very
glad to be gone."
"I am rejoiced," he
said, "that you look upon the affair in
that light; all that concerns me is, to find
that it is talked of every where already."
From that moment I began to think of it
in a different manner. All those that
looked at me whilst we were at table, I
imagined were looking at me on account of
this incident; and bitterness entered my
heart. And now that I am pitied wherever I go, and hear the triumph of my
enemies; who say, "This is always the
case with those vain insignificant personages who pretend to despise forms, and want
to raise themselves;" with other nonsense
of the same kind-I could plunge a dagger
into my heart. Say what you will of philosophy and fortitude: one may laugh at
LETTER XLVI.
nonsense that has no foundation, but how
is it possible to endure that these paltry
March 24,
rascals should have any hold of one?
I HAVE
written to court for leave to resign;
and I hope I shall obtain it. You will for.
give me for not having previously consult.
ed you. It was expedient for me to leave
LETTER XLV.
this place.-I knew all you could allege in
March 16. order to induce me to stay, and there.
EVERYthing conspires to drive me to ex.- fore---. I beg of you to soften this news
tremities. I met Miss Bwalking to- as much as you can to my mother, when
day. I could not help joining her, and ex- you acquaint her with it. I can do nopressing my sense of her altered manner thing for myself; how should I do any
towards me. "Oh! Werter !" said she, thing for others ? She will undoubtedly be
with eagerness, "you who know my heart, grieved to find, that I have stopped short
how could you so ill interpret my distress ? in that career which would have led direct.
What did I not suffer for you from the ly to my being first a privy counsellor, and
first moment I entered the room! I fore. then minister; and to see me thus return.
saw all that has happened; a hundred ing to my original nothing. Argue on the
times I was upon the point of mentioning subject as much as you will, combine all
it to you. I knew that the S .---- s and the reasons which should have induced me
T-----s
would quit the assembly rather to stay ;-I am going, that is sufficient.
than stay in your company. I knew the But that you may not be ignorant where I
count could not break with them; and am going, I shall tell you that here is the
now all the talk"I endeavoured to Prince of--,
who is much pleased with
conceal my emotion, and asked her what my company, and who, having heard of
talk ? " Oh! how much it has already my intention to resign, has invited me to
cost me!" said the amiable girl, and tears his country house, to pass the spring
came into her eyes.-I could scarce contain months with him. He assures me that I
myself-I was ready to throw myself at her shall be left quite at liberty; and, as we
feet. " Explain yourself," I cried.-Her agree on all subjects but one, I shall ven.
tears flowed, and I was quite frantic. She ture to accompany him.

THE SORROWS OF WERTER.
LETTER XLVII.

April 19.
I THANK you for your two letters. I waited for my answer from court before I wrote
to you. I was under continual apprehension lest my mother should apply to the
minister, in order to defeat my purpose.
But I have received my dismission : and
here it is. I will not tell you with what regret it was given to me, nor what the minister said in his letter to me; for you
The
would renew your lamentations.
money which I sent to my mother for, I
shall not want; for the hereditary Prince
has made me a present-and it was accompanied by a few words which affected me
almost to tears.

LETTER XLVIII.
May 5.
I SET out to-morrow; and as my native
place is but six miles out of the great road,
I have a mind to see it, and call back to
my remembrance the happy dreams of my
childhood. I shall go in at the same gate
which I came through with my mother,
when, after my father's death, she left that
delightful retreat to immure herself in
Adieu, my dear
your melancholy town.
friend. You shall hear of my expedition.

23

home again. I cannot, my dear friend, in
detail relate all the circumstances with
which I was affected; however interesting
they were to me, there would be a same.
ness in the relation. I had intended to
lodge in the market-place, near our old
house: as soon as I entered, I perceived
that the schoolroom, where we were taught
by that good old woman, was turned intot
shop. I remembered the sorrow, the dul
ness, the anxiety, the oppression of heart
I had experienced in that confinement.
Every step was marked by some particular
impression. A pilgrim in the Holy Land
does not meet with so many spots which
bring tender recollections to his mind; and
scarcely feels more devotion. One sensation I will relate, of the thousand I experienced : having followed the course of the
stream to a farm, which was formerly a favourite walk likewise, and where we used
to divert ourselves with making ducks and
drakes upon the water, I was most forcibly
struck with the memory of what I then
was: when I looked at the water as it
flowed, and formed romantic ideas of the
countries it was going to pass through, my
imagination was soon exhausted; but the
water continued flowing farther and farther, till I was bewildered in the idea of invisible distance. Exactly such, my dear
friend, were the thoughts of our good ancestors. And when Ulysses talks of the
immeasureable sea, and the unlimited

more according to our feelings, than when,
LETTER XLIX.
in this philosophic age, every schoolboy
May 9.
my
I PERFORMED pilgrimage to the place thinks himself a prodigy, because he can
of my nativity with all the devotion of a repeat after his master that the earth is
real pilgrim : I was affected much beyond round ?
I am at present with the Prince at one
what I expected. Near the great elm,
which is a quarter of a league from the of his hunting lodges. He is an honest
illage on the side of S---, I got out of and unaffected man, and I am very well
the carriage, and sent it on before, that pleased with him: what I dislike is his
alone and on foot I might more fully, and talking of things which he has only read or
my recol- heard of, and always exactly under the
without interruption, enjoy all myall
lections. I was then under the same same poit of view that they have been
elm which formerly was the term and presented to him. I am sorry to say, that
object of my walks. How things have he values my understanding and talents
since changed ! Then, in happy igno- much more highly than that mind, for
rance, I languished after a world I did not which alone I value myself-which alone is
know, and where I hoped to find all the the source of talents, of happiness, of mienjoyments my heart so often felt the want sery, of every thing-which makes me all
of: and now I was returned from that I am, and is solely mine.-Any body may
world so much desired; and what, my know all that I know.
dear friend, did I bring back ? Disappointed hopes, unsuccessful plans.
I observed the opposite mountains, and
LETTER L.
I remembered how often they had excited
May 25,
wishes. I used to sit sometimes for
nmy
whole hours looking at them, and ardently I HADa scheme in my head, which I in.
of those tended to conceal from you till it was ac.
(onging to wander under thhade
Woods which make so delightful an object complished ;-now that it has failed I may
in the distance. With what reluctance I as well tell it to you. I had a mind to go
quitted this favourite spot when the play I into the army; I had long been desirous of
hour was over, and my leave of absence it, and it was my chief reason for coming
expired ! As I drew near to the village, I ' here with the Prince. He is a general in
. As we were
recognised all the little gardens and sum. the service of the mer-houses that I was acquainted with. 1 walking just now, I communicated my dedisliked the new ones, as I do all the alter- sign to him : he did not approve of it; and
ations that have been made since my time. it would have been mdness not to have
I went into the village, and felt quite at yielded to his reasons.

24

THE SORROWS OF WERTER.
LETTER LI.

.

June 1.
SAY what you please, I can stay in this
.- no longer. What should I do here ?
lace
I am weary of it. The Prince, it is true,
treats me in all respects as his equal, but
still I am not at my ease here. Besides,
we are at bottom very different men. He
has a good understanding but quite of the
common kind; and the pleasure I have in
his conversation is only such as I receive
from reading a well writtenbook. I shall
stay a week more here, and then travel
about again. What I have done best, since
I came to this place, are some drawings.
The Prince has some taste for the arts, and
would have more, if it was not cramped by
cold rules and technical terms. I often
lose all patience, when with a glowing imagination I am giving to art and nature the
most lively expression, and he stops me
with learned criticisms, upon which he
highly values himself.

LETTER LII.
June 18.
I going? I will tell you in conI am obliged to continue here a
fortnight longer; after that, I thought it
would be expedient for me to see the mines
of------. But it is no such thing; I only
deceive myself: the real truth is, that I
wish to be near Charlotte again. I am not
the dupe of my heart, but I obey its dictates.
WERE am

idence:

LETTER LIV.
Aug. 4,
I AM not alone unfortunate; men are all
disappointed in their hopes, and all their
schemes fall to the ground. I have been to
see the good Woman under the lime-trees.
The eldest boy ran to meet me ; he screamed for joy, and that brought out his mother,.
She looked very melancholy. " Alas! my
good Sir " said she, "our poor little Jenny
is dead; ' (that was the youngest of her
children.) 1 answered nothing---" And
my husband," she continued, " came back
from Holland without any money ; he was
taken ill with a fever; and if some good
people had not relieved him, he must have
been obliged to beg his bread along the
road." I could say nothing to her : I gave
some money to the boy; and she offered me
some apples, which I accepted, and full of
sorrow left the place.

LETTER LV.
Aug. 21.
My sensations change with the rapidity of
lightning. Sometimes a ray of joy seems
to give me new life-Alas! it disappears in
a moment. When I am thus lost in reveries, I cannot help saying to myself-" If
Albert was to die, I should be-yes, Charlotte would"-and I pursue the chimera
till it leads me to the edge of a precipice,
from which I start back and shudder.
When I go out at the same gate, when I
take the same road which conducted me
for the first time towards Charlotte, my
heart sinks within me; and I feel with bitterness how different I then was from what
I now am. Yes, all, all is vanished. Not
a sentiment, not a pulsation of my heart is
the same; no traces of the past remain. If
the shade of a departed prince could return to visit the superb palaces he had
built in happy times, and left to a beloved
son; and if he found them overthrown and
destroyed by a more powerful neighbour,
such would be his sensations.

LETTER LIII.
Judy 29.
it is allt well.-Me her
On! no; it is we
husband ! Eternal Power that gave me being, if thou hadst destined such happiness
for me, my whole life would have been one
continual thanksgiving ! but I will not
murmur against thee : forgive my tears,
forgive my fruitless vows !-Shemight have
been mine; I might have folded in these
arms all that is lovely under heaven !-My
whole frame is convulsed when Albert puts
his arm round her waist.
LETTER LVI.
Shall I say it ?-And why should I not
Sept. 3.
say it ?-She would have been happier with I SOMETIMEs
cannot comprehend how it is
me than with him. Albert was not made that she loves anbther-how she dares love
for her: he wants a certain sensibility; he another, whilst I bear her about me in this
wants-in short, their hearts do not beat in heart-whilst she entirely fillr and en.
unison ! Ah ! my dear friend, how often grosses it-whilst I think only of her, know
in reading an interesting passage, when my only her, and have nothing but her in the
heart and Charlotte's seemed to meet-ani world.
when our sentiments were unfolded by the
story and situation of fictitious character-|how often have I seen and felt that we
were made to understand each other!
LETTER LVII.
Alas, my friend !-But this worthy man
Sept. 6.
.oves her with all his soul; and what does IT cost me much to part with the blue
not such love deserve?
frock which I wore the first time I danced
I have been interrupted by an insuffera. with Charlotte; I could not possibly apble visit. I have dried up my tears, and pear in it any longer : but 1 have made
mrythoughts are a little dissipated. Adieu, another exactly like it, and with a buff
my dearest friend.
waistcoat and breeches.

I

THE SORROWS OF WERTER.
It has not however the same effect upon
me. I do not know-but I hope in time it
will be as dear to me.

LETTER LVIII.
Sept. 15.
ONE is tempted to wish one's self at the
devil, when one thinks of all the contemptible beings which Heaven suffers to crawl
upon this earth, without any feeling, without any idea of the things which may be
interesting to others. You remember the
walnut-trees at S--,
under which I sat
with Charlotte at the worthy old vicar's.
These beautiful, these beloved trees, how
they adorned the parsonage yard ;-their
shade was refreshing; it was respectable,
for it carried one back with pleasing
Ideas to the good pastors who planted them.
The schoolmaster often mentioned the
name of him who planted the oldest of
them. He had it from hisgrandfather.
this vicar was an excellent man, and
under these trees his respectable memory
was ever present to me. The school.
master had the tears in his eyes yesterday,
when he told us they were cut down.-Cut
down ! I could in my fury murder the
ruffian who struck the first stroke !-Ithat
should grieve if I had two such trees in
my court, and one died of old age ; I must
endure this. I have however one consolation-+uch is sentimet-the whole village
murmurs at it, and I hope the good pea.
sants will make no more presents to the
vicar's wife, and that she will suffer for the
mischief she has done in the parish-for she
did it, the wife of the present incumbent
(our good old man is dead), a tall, meagre,
wrinkled, wan creature, who is so far right
to disregard the world, that the world
totally disregards her : an antiquated scold,
who affects to be learned, pretends to examine the canonical books, lends her assistance towards the new reformation, moral
and critical, of the Christian religion, and
shrugs up her shoulders at the mention of
Lavater's enthusiasm. Her health is destroyed, and hinders her from having any
enjoyment here below. Such a being only
could have cut down my walnut trees.
No, I cannot get over it. Would you hear
her reasons? The leaves which fell from
them made the court wet and dirty; the
trees obstructed the light; little boys threw
stones at the nuts, and the noise affected
her nerves, and disturbed her profound me.ditations when she was weighing in the balance Kennicott, Semler, and Michaelis.
When I found that all the parish was dis-.
pleased, and particularly the old people, I
asked them why they suffered it ?-" Ah !
Sir," they said, "when the steward orders,
what can we poor peasants do ?" However one thing has happened very well;
the steward and the vicar (who for once
thought to reap some advantage from the
caprices of his wife) intended to divide the
trees between them. The revenue office,
being informed of it took possession of the

trees, and sold them to the best bidder.
There they still lie on the ground. Oh ! if
I was a sovereign prince, how I would deal
with the vicar, the steward, and the revenue office!-But if I was a prince, what
should I care for the trees that grew in my
country ?

LETTER LIX.
Oct. 10.
ONLY to look at her dark eyes is to me
happiness. What grieves me is, that Al.
bert does not seem so happy as he expected to be-as I should have been-if-I
do not much love suspensions; but here I
cannot express myself any otherwise.Heavens! and am I not explicit enough ?

LETTER LX.
Oct. 12.
OssiAN has taken the place of Homer in
my heart and imagination. To what a
world does the illustrious bard carry me!
To wander in heaths and wilds, surround.
ed by impetuous whirlwinds, in which, by
the feeble light of the moon, we discover
the spirits of our ancestors;-to hear from
the top of the mountains, amidst the roaring of the waters, their plaintive sounds
issuing from deep caverns, and the sorrowful lamentations of a maiden who sighs
and dies on the mossy tomb of the warrior
by whom she was adored ! I meet this bard
with silver hair; he wanders in the valley;
he seeks the footsteps of his fathers. Alas
he finds only their tombs ! Then contemplating the pale moon as she sinks beneath
the waves of the foaming sea, the memory
of time past strikes the mind of the hero;
-those times when the approach of danger
filled his heart with exultation, and gave
vigour to his nerves-when the moon shone
upon his bark, laden with the spoils of his
enemies, and lighted up his triumphwhen I read in his countenance his deep
sorrow-when I see his sinking glory tottering towards the grave-when he casts a
look on the cold earth which is to cover
him, and cries out, "The traveller will
come, he will come who has seen my
beauty, and he will ask, where is the bard,
where is the illustrious son of Fingal ? he
will walk over my tomb, and he will seek
me in vain!"-Then, O my friend! I could
instantly, like a true and noble knight,
draw my sword, and rescue my prince
from long and painful languor, and after.
wards plunge it into my own breast, to
follow the demigod whom my hand set
free.

!

LETTER LXI.
Oct. 19.
ALAs! the void, the fearful void I feel in
my bosom-Sometimes I think, if I couli

26

SORROWS OF WERTER.

THE

but once, only once press her to my heart, charms, passing and repassing continually
I should be happy.
before one, and not dare to touch them I
To touch is so natural: do not children
touch every thing that they see? and I l
LETTER LXII.
Oct. 26.
I AMconvinced, my dear friend, more and
more convinced, that the existence of any
one being whatever is of little, very little
consequence.
A friend of Charlotte's
came just now to make her a visit : I withdrew, and took up a book in the next
room; but I could not read, and therefore
1 write to you. I hear their conversation:
they are only talking of the news of the
town; one is going to be married, another
is ill, very ill. "She has a dry cough, and
frequent faintings; she cannot recover,"
says one. " N. is very ill too," says Charlotte. "He begins to swell already," answers the other : and my imagination suddenly carries me to their sick beds : I see
them struggling against approaching death,
in all the agonies of pain and horror. I
see them-And these good little women
aretalking of it with the same indifference
that one would mention the death of a
stranger.-And when I look at the apartment in which I now am, when I see
Charlotte's apparel lying round me; here
upon this little table are her ear-rings, Albert's papers, all the things which are so familiar to me, the very inkstand I now use ;
and that I think what I am to this family
-- every thing-my friends esteem me, are
made happy by me, and my heart cannot
conceive that anything could exist without them; and yet if I was now to go, if I
was to quit this circle, would they feel,
how long would they ieei that void in their
life, which the loss of me would leave ?
How long-yes, such is the frailty of man,
that there where he most feels his own existence, where hispresence makes a real
and a strong impression, even in the me,
mory of those who are dear to him; there
also he must perish and vanish away, and
that so quickly.
---

*-

LETTER LXIII.
Oct. 27.
I COULD open my bosom, I could beat
tear
my head against the wall, when I see how
difficult it is to communicate our ideas,
our sensations to others; to make them
enter into our feelings. I cannot receive
from another the love, the joy, the
warmth, the pleasure, that I do not natu.
rally possess ; nor with a heart glowing
with the most lively affection, can I make
the happiness of one in whom the same
warmth and energy are not inherent,

LETTER LXV.
Nov. 3.
How often, when I have lain down in my
bed, have I wished never to wake again I
and in the morning I open my eyes, I
again behold the sun, and I am wretched.
Oh ! why am I not fanciful and hypochon.
driacal? Why cannot I attribute my woes
to intemperate seasons, to disappointed
ambition, to the persecutions.of an enemy ?
for then this insupportable load of discon.
tent would not rest wholly upon myselt
But, wretched that I am! I feel it too
but
sensibly, I alone am the cause of my un.
happiness; this same bosom, which for.
merly contained a source of delight, is now
the source of all my torments. Am I not
the same man who formerly felt only
agreeable sensations ? who, every step he
took, saw paradise before him, and whose
heart was expanded, and full of benevolence to the whole world. But this heart
is now dead, dead to all sentiment: my
eyes are dry, and my senses, no longer re
freshed by soft tears, wither away, and
perish, and consume my brain. My sufferings are great: I have lost the only charm
of my life; that active sacred power, which
created worlds around me; it is no more.
From my window I see the distant hills ;
the rising sun breaks through the mists,
opens wide the. prospect, and illuminates
the country. I see the soft stream gently
winding through the willows stripped of
their leaves. Nature displays all her beauties before me, exhibits the most enchanting scenes, and my heart is unmoved; I
remain blind, insensible, petrified. Often
have I implored Heaven for tears, as the
labourer prays for dews to moisten the
parched corn.
But, I feel it, God does not grant sun.
shine or rain to importunate entreaties.
Those times, the memory of which now
torments me, why were they so fortunate?
It was because I then waited for the bless.
ings of the Eternal with patience, and re.
ceived them with a grateful and feeling
heart.

LETTER LXVI.

Nov.

CHARLOTTE has reproved me for my excesses, with so much tenderness and good.
ness !-In order to forget myself, my dear
friend, I have for some time past drank
more wine than usual-" Don't do it," said
she; "think of Charlotte."-The necessary advice to think of Charlotte !-" I do
LETTER LXIV.
think of you, and yet 'tis not thinking
of
Oct. 30. you; you are always before my eyes, you
A HUNDREDn
times have I been upon the are in my heart: this very morning I was
point of catching her in my arms ! What sitting in the place where you stopped the
torment it is to see such loveliness, such last ti no--' Ammediately she changed the

THE SORROWS OF WERTER.
subject. My dear friend, I am to longer
any thing, she makes me just what she
pleases.

27

LETTER LXIX.

Nov. 24.
1
found her alone, and was silent: she looked steadfastly at me; the fire of genius,
the charms of beauty were fled. But I
saw in her countenance an expression
LETTER LXVII.
much more touching;-tbe expression of
soft pity, and the tenderest concern.-Why
Nov. 15.
I THANKyou, my good friend, for inte- was I withheld from throwing myself at
resting yourself so kindly in what relates her feet ? Why did I not dare to take her
to me, and for the good advice you give in my arms, and answer her by a thousand
me; and I beg of you to make yourself kisses ?-She had recourse to her harpsieasy. Leave me to my sufferings; sur- chord, and in a low and sweet voice accomrounded as I am, I have still strength panied it with melodious sounds. Her lips
enough to endure them to the end. I re- never appeared so lovely; they seemed but
vere our religion; you know I do : I am just to open to receive the notes of the insensible that it often gives strength to the strument, and return half the vibration.feeble, and comfort to the afflicted.-But But who could express such sensations! I
has it, should it have this effect on all men was soon overcome, and, bending down, I
equally ? Consider this vast universe, and pronounced this vow : "Beautiful lips,
you will find millions for whom it never which celestial spirits guard, never will I
has existed; and millions, whether it is seek to profane you." And yet I wishpreached to them or not, for whom it oh! my friend, it is like drawing a curnever will exist.-Do not give a wrong con- tain before my heart-only to taste this festruction to this, I beg of you. I don't licity, and die and expiate my crimes.-My
love vain disputes on subjects which we crimes !
are all equally ignorant of. What is the
destiny of man ?-to fill up the measure of
his sufferings, and drink up the bitter
LETTER LXX.
draught.-And if the cup appeared bitter
Nov. 30.
even to the Son of the Most High, why
should I affect a foolish pride, and say my IT is all over; I see it, my fate is decided.
cup is sweet? Why should I be ashamed Every thing increases my woes; every
to tremble in that fearful moment, when thing points out my destiny. To-day
my soul shall be suspended between exis- againI went to walk by the river-side, about
tence and annihilation-when dissolution,
like a flash of lightning, shall illuminate dinner-time, for I could not eat. The
the dark gulf of futurity-when every country was gloomy and deserted; a cold
thing shakes around me, and the whole and damp easterly wind blew from the
world vanishes away ?-This is the voice of mountains, and black heavy clouds spread
a creature oppressed beyond all resource, over the plain. I perceived a man at a
and who feels with terror that he cannot distance in an old great coat; he was wanescape destruction-" My God ! my God ! dering amongst the rocks, and seemed to
why hast thou forsaken me ?"-Should I be looking for plants. When I came up to
be ashamed to use this expression ? He him, he turned about, and I saw an interestwho spreads out the heavens as it were a ing countenance, with all the marks of a
settled melancholy ; his fine black hair
garment felt terror himself.
was flowing on his shoulders. " What ar
you looking for, friend ?"said I. He an.
swered, with a deep sigh, "I am looking
for flowers, and I can't find any." " But
LETTER LXVIII.
this is not the season for flowers," said I.
Nov. 20.
"There are so many flowers," he said, " I
CHARLOTrE
does not know, does not feel have in my garden, roses, and honeysuckles
that she is preparing for me a poison which of two sorts, one of them I had from my
will destroy us both; and this deadly poi- father; they grow every where: I have
son which she presents to me I swallow in been two whole days looking for them, and
large draughts. What mean those looks of I can't find them. There are flowers too
kindness which she sometimes bestows above there, yellow, and blue, and red, and
upon me, that complacency with which that centaury which grows in such pretty
she hears the sentiments that sometimes clusters; I can find none of them."
I
escape me, and the tender pity which ap- asked him what he intended to do with
pears in her countenance ? Yesterday these flowers. He smiled, and holding up
when I took leave of her, she held out her his finger with a mysterious air, said,
hand to me, and said, "Adieu, my dear "Don't betray me, I have promised my
Werter."-Dear Werter!-Itwas the first mistress a nosegay." "You did well,'A
time she ever called me dear; the sound said I. "Oh! she has every thing," he
sunk deep into my heart: I have repeated answered, "she is very rich."-" And
it a hundred times since; and when I went yet,"
said "she likes your nosegays ?"
I,
to bed, I said, " Good night, my dear Wer- "Oh ! she has jewels and a crown !" he
ter "-I recollected myself, and laughed. exclaimed. I asked who she was. " I
BB
C'ARLOTTE is sensible of my sufferings.

28

THE SORROWS OD WERTER.

the States General would but pay me," he pous declamations ?-Extravagance !-O
cried out, "1 should be quite another God, thou seest my tears! thou hast given
man! Alas! there was a time when I was unto us a sufficient portion of misery,
so happy; but that time is passed, and I must we also have brethren that persecute
am now-" he raised his swimming eyes to us, that would deprive us of all consolaheaven.-" You were then happy !" I said. tion, and take away our trust in thee, in
* Alas! why am I not still the sameT" thy love and mercy? The vine which
said he; " I was so well, so gay, so con- strengthens us, the root which heals us,
tented-I was like a fish in the water." comes from thy hand-Relief and saving
An old woman who was coming towards health are thine. Father! whom I know
us, called out, " Henry, Henry ! where not!-thou who wert wont to fill my soul,
are you ? we have been looking every but now hidest thy face from me!-call me
where for you; come to dinner!" " Is that back, speak to my heart!-in vain thy
your son ?" I asked her. " Yes, my poor silence would delay a scul which thirsts
unfortunate son," said she; "the Lord after thee !-What father would be wrath
has sent us this affliction." I asked whe- ful against his son, if he appeared suddenther he had been long in that state. " It ly before him, and fell on his neck, and
is about six months," she answered, cried out, " Oh, my father ! forgive me if
"since he has been calm as he is now, and I have shortened my journey, if 1 am reI thank Heaven for it; he was one whole turned before the appointed time!-The
year quite raving, and chained down in a world is every where the same-labour
madhouse; now he does no harm to any and pain, pleasure and reward, all were
body, but he talks of nothing but kings alike indifferent to me-I find happiness
and emperors. He was a very good young only in thy presence, and here let me reman, and helped to maintain me; he main whatever is my fate!"-And wouldst
wrote a very fine hand: and all of a sudden thou, heavenly and adored Father, banish
he became melancholy, was seized with a this child from thy awful presence ?
burning fever, grew distracted, and is now
as you see.
If I was to tell you,
Sir
" I interrupted her by asking
at what time it was that he boasted of hav-LETTERLXXI.
ing been so happy. " Poor boy," said she,
Dec. 1.
with a smile of compassion, " it is the time MY dear friend, the man 1 described to
in which he was entirely out of his senses; you, the man so enviable in his misforhe never ceases to regret it : it is the time tunes, was secretary to Charlotte's father.
when he was confined and absolutely rav- He conceived an unhappy passion for her;
ing." I was thunderstruck. I put some he cherished, concealed, and at length dismoney into his hand, and went away.
covered it-was dismissed, and became
"You were happy !" I exclaimed, as I such as I yesterday saw him.-Think what
walked hastily back towards the town; an impression these few words made upon
" you were like a fish in the water !" God me ! which Albert repeated with as much
of Heaven ! is this the destiny of man ? is tranquillity as perhaps you read them.
he only happy before he possesses his reason, and after he has lost it ? You are unfortunate, and I envy your lot: full of
hopes you go to gather flowers for your
LETTER LXXII.
princess-in winter!-and are grieved not
to find any, and don't know why they canDec. 4.
not be found.-But as for me, I wander IT Is all over, my dear friend; I can sup.
without hope, without design, and I return port this state no longer. To-day I was
as I came. To your disordered fancy it ap- sitting by Charlotte; she was playing on
pears that if the States General paid you, her harpsichord, with an expression it is
you should be a man of consequence; and impossible for me to describe to you. Her
happy it is for you that you can attribute little sister was dressing her doll upon my
your sufferings to any foreign power. You lap; the tears came into my eyes; I leando not know, you do not feel that your et down and looked intently at her wedwretchedness is in your agitated heart, in ding ring; my tears fell-immediately she
your disordered brain, and that all the kings began to play the favourite, the divine air
and potentates on earth cannot restore I which has so often enchanted me.-I felt
you.
I comforted by it; but soon it recalled to my
Let their death be without consolation, mind the times that are past-Grief! dis.
who can laugh at the sick man that travels appointed hopes !-I began to walk with
to distant springs, only to find an accumu- hasty strides about the room--I was choked
lation of disease, and a death more pain- -At length I went up to her, and with ea.
full or that can exult over the depressed gerness said, "For heaven's sake, play that
!
mind, who, to obtain peace of conscience, no longer."
She stopped, looked steadto alleviate his miseries, makes a pilgri- fastly at me, and said, with a smile that
mage to the Holy Land!
Every step sunk deep into my heart, " Werter, you
which wrings his feet in unbeaten paths is are indeed very ill: your most favourite
a drop of balm to his soul, and each night food disgusts you. Pray go, and try to
brings new relief to his heart.-Will you compose yourself."-I tore myself from
dare to call this extravagance, you that her.-Great God! thou seest my tor.
sase yourselves upon stilts to make pom. ments, and thou wilt put an end to them !

THE SORROWS OF WERI'ER.
LETTER LXXIII.

29

the memory of time for ever lost entered
my heart.-Thus, to the sleeping captive
dreams recall all the blessings he isdeprived of.-I stopped.-I don't reproach
myself, I have the courage to die;-I
should have.-I am now like an old and
wretched woman, who picks dry sticks
along the hedge side, and begs bread from
door to door, to prolong for a few moments
her feeble and miserable existence.

Dec. 6.
How her image haunts me! Awake or
asleep she is ever present to my soul!Soon as I close my eyes, here in this brain,
where all my nerves are concentred, her
dark eyes are imprinted. Here-I don't
know how to describe it;-but if I shut
my eyes, hers are immediately before me
like a sea, like aprecipice, and they occupy
all the fibres of my head.-What is a man !
that boasted demigod ! his strength fails
him when most he wants it;-and whether he swims in pleasure, or bends under
LETTER LXXV.
a load of sorrow, he is forced to stop; and
Dec. 17.
whilst he is grasping at infinity, finds he I know not how it is, my dear friend, my
must return again to his first cold exist- imagination is full of terror ! Is not my
ence.
love for her the purest and most sacred?
Is it not the love of a brother for his sister? Did ever my heart form a wish that
was criminal ?-I will make no vows.-And
LETTER LXXIV.
now I dream-Oh! they were much in the
Dec. 8.
right who attributed contending passions
I FEEL, as those wretches must have felt to powers that are foreign to us !-This
who were formerly supposed to bepossessed very night-I tremble as I write it-this
by devils. Sometimes I am seized with very night I held her in my arms, I press.
strange starts and motions ;-it is not ed her to my bosom, devoured her tremagony, it is not passion, it is an interior se- bling with kisses. The most melting
lips
cret rage which tears my bosom, and seems softness was in her eyes, in mine equal
to seize my throat-Wretch that I am !ecstacy. When I now at this moment re.
Then I run, and wander amidst the dark call these transports with delight, am I
and gloomy scenes which this unfriendly guilty of a crime ?-Oh! Charlotte! Charseason exhibits. Last night I felt thus lotte! it is all over ;-my senses are disorconstrained to go out of the town. I had 'dered, and for these seven days I ha-e not
been told that the river, and all the brooks been myself;-my eyes are full of tears;in the neighbourhood, had overflown their all places are alike to me; in none am I at
banks, and that my favourite valley was peace ;-I desire nothing, I ask nothing.
under water. I ran thither at past eleven -Ah! 'twere better far that I should de.
o'clock : it was a gloomy and awful sight ! part !
the moon was behind a cloud, but by
means of a few scattered rays I could perceive the foaming waves rolling over the
fields and meadows, and beating against
[THE EDITOR TOTHE READER,
the bushes; the whole valley was a stormy
sea, tossed by furious winds. The moon IN order to give a connected account of
then appeared again, and rested on a dark the last days of Werter, I am obliged to
cloud; the splendour of her light increased interrupt the course of his letters by a narthe disorder of nature. The echoes re- ration; the materials for which were furpeated and redoubled the roarings of the nished to me by Charlotte, Albert, his own
wind and the waters. I drew near to the servant, and some other witnesses.
precipice; I wished and shuddered; I
stretched out my arms, I leaned over, I THE passion of Werter had insensibly disighed, and lost myself in the happy minished the harmony which subsisted bethought of burying all my sufferings, all tween Charlotte and her husband. The
my torments, in that abyss, and tossing affection of Albert for his wife was sinamidst the waves. Why were my feet cere, butcalm, and had by degrees given
rooted to the earth ? why could I not thus place to his business. He did not indeed
have put an end to my misery? But I own, even to himself, that there was this
feel it, my dear friend, my hour is not yet difference between the days of courtship
come. With what delight should I have and the days of marriage; but he felt a
changed my nature, and have incorporated certain displeasure at the marked atten.
with the whirlwinds to rend the clouds and tions of Werter. It was an infringement
disturb the waters! Perhaps I may one of his right, and a kind of tacit reproof
day quit my prison, and taste these plea. This idea increased the dissatisfaction he
sures.
felt from business that was continually ac.
I looked sorrowfully down upon a little cumulating, that -was full of difficulties,;
spot
where I had sat under a willow by the and for which he was but indifferently
sideof Charlotte, after a summer's walk; paid. The grief which preyed on Werter's
that also was under water. I could hardly heart had exhausted the strength of his
distinguish the tree. Alas! I then thought genius; he had lost his vivacity and his
of the meadows, the fields round the hunt- quick perceptions; in society he appeared
Sing
lodge; the walks, the green recesses, joyless and flat. This disposition had of
nowperhapslaid waste by the torrent; and course an influence upon Charlotte, who
BB2

SQ

THE SORROWS OF WERTER.

saw him every day; and she fell into a sort
of melancholy, which Albert attributed to
the progress of her attachment to her
lover, and Werter to the deep concern she
felt for the alteration in Albert's conduct
towards her. The want of confidence in
these two friends made their society irk.
some to each other. Albert avoided going
to his wife's apartment when Werter was
there; and Werter, who perceived it, after
some fruitless efforts to desist, took those
opportunities to see her, when he knew
Albert was engaged. Discontent and bitterness of heart increased, till at length
Albert very dryly told his wife, that, were
for the sake of appearance only, she
should behave differently to Werter, and
not see him so often. About the same
time, this unfortunate young man was
confirmed in his resolution to quit this
World. It had long been his most favou.
rite thought, and particularly since his return to the neighbourhood of Charlotte.
He had always encouraged it, but he
would not commit such an action with precipitation and rashness; he was determined to take this step like a man who knows
what he is doing, is resolved and firm, but
calm and tranquil. His doubts and struggles may be seen by the following fragment, which was found, without any date,
amongst his papers, and which appears to
have been the beginning of a letter to his
friend.]

ft

-- HER presence, her fate, the interest she
shows for mine, have power still to draw
some tears from my withered brain !
One lifts up the curtain; one passes to
the other side-that is all!-And why all
these delays? why all these fears ?-Because we know not what is behind-because
there is no returning--and we suppose that
all is darkness and confusion, where there
is uncertainty.
[His mortification, when he was secretary
to the ambassador, was never effaced from
iis memory. Whenever he mentioned it,
which did not often happen, it was easy to
perceive that he thought his honour irrecoverably wounded by that adventure;
and it gave him a distaste for public affairs,
and all political business. He then gave
way entirely to those singular opinions and
Sentiments which are to be met with in
these letters; and to a passion which knew
no bounds, and which was destined to consume all his remaining vigour. The continual sameness and sadness of his interpurse with the most amiable and most
beloved of women, whose peace he disturbed---his conflicts and struggles-and the
seeing his life pass away without end or
design, drove him at length to put an end
to his existence.]
Swho
LETTER LXXVI.
Dec. 20.
1 musr depart !-I thank you for having
repeated the word so seasonably.-Yes, it is

undoubtedly better that I should depart.
However, I do not entirely approve the
scheme of returning to your neighbour.
hood : at least I should like to make a tout
in my way; particularly as one may expect
a frost, and consequently good roads. 1
am much pleased with your intention of
coming to fetch me; I only desire you to
defer your journey for a fortnight, and to
wait for another letter from me. One
should gather nothing before it is ripe, and
a fortnight sooner or later makes a great
difference. Desire my mother to think of
me in her prayers; and tell her I sincerely
ask her pardon for all the unhappiness I
have occasioned her. I was doomed to
give sorrow to all those whose happiness I
ought to have promoted.
Adieu! my
dear, my dearest friend! May all the
blessings of Heaven attend you. Adieu!
[THE same day (which was the Sunday be.
fore Christmas) Werter went in the even,
ing to Charlotte's house, and found her
alone. She was busy preparing little gift@
for her brothers and sisters, which were to
be distributed on Christmas-eve. He be=
gan talking of the delight of the children,
and of that age when the opening of the
door, and the sudden appearance of the
dessert decorated with fruit and sweet.
meats, and lighted up with wax candles,
causes such transports of joy-" You shall
have a gift too, if you behave well," said
Charlotte, hiding her embarrassment
under a sweet smile. " What do you call
behaving well," said he "my dear Char_
lotte ?" She answered, 'Thursday night is
Christmas-eve: the children are all to be
here, and my father too; there is a present
for each; do you come likewise-but do
not come before that time."-Werter was
struck-" I desire you will not; it must
be so; I ask it of you as a favour; it is
for my own peace and tranquillity that I
ask it; we must not go on in this manner
any longer."-He turned away his face
walked hastily up and down tine room.
and muttered between his teeth, " We
must not go on in this manner any longer."
Charlotte, seeing the violent agitation into
which these words had thrown him, endeavoured to divert his thoughts by different
questions. But it was in vain. " No,
Charlotte," said he, " I will never see you
more!" "And why so, Werter ? we may,
we must see one another again, only let it
be with more discretion. Oh ! why were
you born with that impetuosity-with that
excessive, that ungovernable passion for
every thing that is dear to you?" Then,
taking his hand, she said, "Let me beg of
you to be more calm; what a variety of
pleasure and entertainment your fine understanding, your genius and talents may
furnish you! Be yourself, and get the better of an unfortunate attachment to me,
can only pity you."-He bit his lips,
and looked at her with a dark and angry
countenance. She continued to hold his
hand-" Grant me a moment's patience,
Werter !-Do you not see that you are deceiving yourself, that you are seeking your

THE SORROWS OF WERTER.

81

own destruction ? Why must it onlymebe
of women ! a cold grave holds the inanime who belong to another ?-I fear, I much mate remains of that agitated unhappy
fear that the impossibility only of pos- man, who in the last moments of his life
sessing me makes the desire of it so knew no pleasure so great as that of constrong." He drew back his hand, and versing with you. I have passed a dread.
with wild and angry looks fixed his eyes ful night-or rather let me call it a propi.
on her-" Tis well!" he exclaimed, "'tis tious one; for it has determined me, it
very well !-Did not Albert furnish you has fixed my purpose; I am resolved to
with this reflection-'tis a very profound die. When 1 tore myself from you yesone."
"It is a reflection that any one terday, my senses were in the greatest tumight very easily make," she answered : mult and disorder; my heart was oppress" What! is there not in the whole world ed; hope and every ray of pleasure were
one woman, who is at liberty, and who has fled for ever from me; and a petrifying
the power to make you happy ? Get the cold seemed to surround my wretched bebetter of yourself; look for such a woman, ing.-I could scarcely reach my room;-I
and believe me when I tell you that you threw myself on my knees.-Heaven for
will certainly find her. I have long appre- the last time granted me the consolation of
hended'for you, and for us all, the small shedding tears. My troubled soul was agicircle to which you have confined yourself. tated by a thousand ideas, a thousand dif-Make an effort; a journey may and will ferent schemes! at length one thought
dissipate you.--Seek and find an object took possession of me, and is now fixed in
worthy of your tenderness; then return my heart-I will
die.-It is not despair, it
here, and enjoy with us all the happiness is conviction that I have filled up the mea.
that can arise from the mostperfect friend- sure of my sufferings, that I have reached
shi "
the term, and that I sacrifice myself for
_hThis speech, my dear Charlotte," said you. Yes, Charlotte, why should I not
Werter, with a smile, but full of acrimony, say it ? It is necessary for one of us three
" ought to be printed for the improvement to depart-it shall be Werter.-Oh ! my
of all teachers. Allow me but a little time dear Charlotte! this heart, governed by
longer, and all will be well."-" But how- rage and fury, has often conceived the
ever, Werter, don't come again before horrid idea of murdering your husbandChristmas-eve," she said.--He going you-myself !-I must then depart.-When
was
to answer, when Albert came in.-Werter in the fine evenings of summer, you walk
and he coolly saluted each other, and with towards the mountains, think of me; re.
apparent embarrassment walked up and collect the times you have so often seen me
down the room. They began to converse come up from the valley ; raise your eye
on different subjects, butwithout connec- to she churchyard which contains my
tion, and they were soon dropped. Albert grave; and by the light of the departing
asked his wife about some commissions he sun, see how the evening breeze waves the
had given her; and finding they were not high grass which grows over me !-I was
executed, he made use of some harsh ex- calm when I began my letter; but the re:
pressions, which pierced the heart of Wer- collection of these scenes makes me cry
ter. He vished to go, but had not power like a child.
to move ; and in this situation he remained till eight o'clock; uneasiness of temper rAour ten in the mornmg, Werter called
and acrimony continually increasing; till his servant; and as he was dressing, told
at length the cloth was laid, and he took him he should go in a few days, bid hini
leave, whilst Albert very coldly asked him, lay his clothes in order, call in his bills;
if he would not stay supper.
fetch home the books he had lent, and give
Werter returned home, took the candle two months pay to those poor people who
from his servant, and went up to his room were used to receive a weekly allowance
alone. He was heard talking with great from him. He breakfasted in his room;
earnestness, and walking hastilyin his room and then mounted his horse, and went to
in a passion of tears. At length, without make a visit to the steward, who was not
undressing, he threw himself on the bed; at home. He walked pensively in the garwhere his servant found him at eleven den, and seemed as if he wished to renew
o'clock, when he ventured to go in and all the ideas that were most painful to him.
take off his boots. Werter did not prevent The children did not suffer him to remain
him, but ordered him not to come in the long alone; they all went in pursuit of
morning till he rung.
i him, and skipping and dancing round him,
Monday morning, the 21st of December, told him, that after to-morrow, and tohe wrote the following letter, which was morrow, and one day more, they were td
found sealed on his bureau after his death, have their Christmas gift from Charlotte;
and given to Charlotte. I shall insert it in and described to him all the wonderful
fragments, as it appears by several circum things their little imaginations had formed
stances to have been written.)
an expectation of. "To-morrow," said
he, "and to-morrow, and one day more!'
-Ir is all over.-Charlotte, I am resolved -and he kissed them tenderly. He was
to die; I tell it to you deliberately and going, but the little one stopped him, to
coolly, without any romantic passion, the whisper in his ear, that his brothers had
morning of that day on which I am to see wrote fine compliments upon the new year:
you for the last time. At the very mo- -very fine indeed, and very long, one for
asent when you read
these lines, Oh! best papa, and one for..
Albert and Charlottej

32

THE SORROWS OF WERTER.

and one for Mr. Werter tioo; and that they
were to be presented very early in the
morning on new year's day.-This last stroke quite overcame himHe gave something to each of the children,
got upon his horse, and charging them to
give his compliments to their papa, left
them with tears in his eyes. He returned
home about five o'clock, and ordered his
servant to keep up the fire; told him to
pack up his books and linen at the bottom
of the trunk, and to lay his coats at the
top.-He then appears to have wrote the
following fragment of his letter to Char.
lotte.j
-You do not expect me ;--you think I
shall obey you, and that I shall not see you
again till Christmas-eve. Oh Charlotte,
to-day or never! On Christmas-eve you
will hold in your hand this paper; you will
tremble, and you will wet it with your
tears.--I ought-I will-I am well pleased
thatlI hraee fixed my resolu
af
that I have
my resolution,on
SAT
half an hour after six he went to Al
ert's ; he found only Charlotte at home,
who was much distressed at seeing him.
She had, in conversation with her husband, mentioned, with seeming negligence,
that Werter would not come there again
till Christmas-eve ; and very soon afterwards Albert ordered his horse, and, notwithstanding the rain, set out in order to
settle some business with a steward in the
neighbourhood. Charlotte knew that he
had for a long time delayed making this
visit, which was to keep him a night from
home. She felt his want of confidence,
and was hurt. Alone, and full of sorrow,
she recalled her past life, and found no
cause of reproach either in her sentiments
or her conduct, or with regard to her busband, from whom she had a right to expect
happiness, and who was now the cause of
her misery. She then thought of Werter,
and blamed, but could not hate him. A
secret sympathy had attached her to him
from their first acquaintance ; and now,
after so long an intimacy, after passing
through so many different scenes, the impression was engraved on her mind for
ever. At length her full heart was reliev
ed by tears, and she fell into a soft melan.
choly, in which she was quite wrapped and
lost ; when with infinite astonishment and
emotion she heard Werter upon the stairs,
asking if she was at home ? It was too late
to deny herself, and she had not recovered
her confusion when he came in. "You
have not kept your word," she cried out." I did not promise any thing," he answered.-" But for both our sakes," said Charlotte, "you should have granted what I
asked of you."-She sent to some of her
friends, and desired them to come, that
they might be witnesses of the conversation ; with the idea too, that Werter,
thinking himself obliged to wait upon them
home, would go away the sooner. He had
brought some books ; she talked to him of
them, and of some others, and introduced
various indifferent subjects while she was
expecting her friends; but the servant

brought back their excuses-one was en
gaged with company, and another prevented by the rain.
This unlucky circumstance at first made
Charlotte uneasy, but the consciousness of
her own innocence at length inspired her
with a noble confidence: and, above the
chimeras of Albert's brain, and conscious
of her own purity of heart, she rejected
her first intention of calling in her maid;
and after playing two or three minutes on
the harpsichord to recover herself, she
went with great composure, and sat down
by Werter on the sofa. " Have you no.
thing to read to me ?" she said.-He answered, " "and Open that drawer," said
Charlotte No."-"you will find your own
traslati
some of the songs of Ossian
o
f
I have not yet read it ; I have been waiting
till you could read it to me yourself, but
for some time past you have been good for
nothing."-He smiled, went to fetch the
manuscript, and shuddered as he took it
up. He sat down with eyes swimming in
tears, and began to read.-After reading
for some time, he came to that affecting
passage, where Armin deplores the loss of
his beloved daughter.
" Alone on the seaheat rock my daughter was heard to complain. Frequent and
loud were her cries; nor could her father
relieve her. All night I stood on the
shore. I saw her by the faint beam of the
moon. All night I heard her cries. Loud
was the wind, and the rain beat hard on
theside of the mountain. Before morning
appeared, her voice was weak; it died away
like the evening breeze among the grass of
the rocks. Spent with grief, she expired ;
and left thee, Armin, alone ! Gone is my
strength in the war; and fallen my pride
among women !
"When the storms of the mountain
come, when the north lifts the waves on
high, I sit by the sounding shore, and look
on the fatal rock. Often by the setting
moon I see theghosts of my children. Half
viewless they walk in mournful conference
together. Will none of you speak in pity?
They do onir regard the father ! I am sad,
not
O Carmor ! nor small my cause of woe!"
lA flood of tears streamed from the eyes
of Charlotte, and gave some relief to the
oppression of heart which she felt. We.
ter threw down the paper, seized her hand,
and wept over it. She leaned
the other
uon
arm, and held her handkerchief to her
eyes. They were both of them in the utmost agitation. In this unhappy story they
felt their own misfortunes ; together they
feltthem, and their tears flowed from the
same source. The ardent eyes and lips of
Werter were riveted to her arm. She
trembled, and wished to go from him; but
sorrow and soft compassion pressed upon
her, and weighed her down. At length she
heaved a deep sigh to recover herself, and
sobbing, desired him to go on. Werter,
quite exhausted, took up the manuscript,
and in broken accents continued"Why dost thou awake me, O gale ? It
seems to say, I am covered with the drops
of heavesn. The time of my fading is near,

THE SORROWS OF WERTER.
and the blast that shall scatter my leaves,
To-morrow shall the traveller come: he
that saw me in my beauty shall corne; his
eyes will search the field, but they will not
find me."
of
The whole force these words fell like a
stroke of thunder on the heart of the unfortunate Werter. In his despair he threw
himself at Charlotte's feet, seized her
hands, and put them to his eyes and to his
forehead. An apprehension of his fatal
the first time struck her : her
project for
senses were bewildered; she pressed his
hands, pressed them to her bosom, and
leaning towards him, with emotions of tender pity, her warm cheek touched his,
Then they lost sight of every thing; the
whole world disappeared from before their
eyes. He clasped her irn his arms, strained
her to his bosom, and covered her trembling lips with passionate kisses. " Werter !" she cried, in a faint voice, and turned her face from him ; " Werter!" and
with a feeble hand put him from her. At
length, with the firm,
determined voice of
virtue, she cried, " Werter !" and he was
awed by it; and, tearing himself from her
arms, fell on his knees before her. Charlotte rose, and with disordered grief, and in
a voice of love mixed with resentment
said, " This is the last time; Werter, you
will never see me more !" She cast one last
tender look upon her unfortunate lover,
then ran into her room, and bolted the
door. Werter held out his arms to her, but
did not dare to detain her. lie continued
on the ground with his head resting on the
sofa for above half an hour, till he heard a
noise;-it was the servant coming to lay
the cloth. He then walked up and down
the room; and when he was again left
alone, he went to Charlotte's door, and in
a low voice said, "Charlotte! Charlotte !
but one word more, only one adieu." He
stopped, and listened. She made no answer.-He entreated-listened again; then
torehimself from the place, crying," Adieu,
Charlotte! adieu, ror ever."
Werter ran to the gate of the town; the
guard knew him, and let him pass. The
night was dark and stormy; it rained and
snowed. He came in about eleven. His
servant perceived he was without a hat, but
did not venture to say any thing; and
when he undressed his master, he found
his clothes were all wet. His hat was afterwards found uponthe point of a rock, where
it is inconceivable that he could climb in
such a night, without breaking his neck.
He went to bed, and slept till late next day.
His servant found him writing when he
carried his coffee to him. He was adding
what follows to Charlotte's letter.]
-FOR the last, last time, I now open my
eyes. Alas ! they will behold the sun no
more; a thick and gloomy fog hides it.-Yes!
let Nature put on mourning-your child,
your friend, your lover, draws near his end.
Charlotte! the sentiment I now feel stands
alone in my mind-it is strongly marked;
and yet nothing appears to me more like
a dream than when I say, This is the last

33

day. The last ! Charlotte, I have no idea
that corresponds with this word-Last!To-day I stand upright, I have all my
strength; to-morrow, cold and stiff, I shall
lie extended on the ground. What is
death ? we do but dream when we talk of
it.-I
have seen many die;-but such are
the limits of our feeble nature, we have no
clear conceptions of the beginning or end
of our existence. At this moment I still
possess myself-or rather, dearest of wo.
men ! I am thine ;-and the next-detach.
ed, separated-perhaps for ever !-No,
Charlotte, no! we now exist, how can we
be annihilated ?-What is annihilation ?this too is a mere word, a sound which
conveys no idea to my mind !-Dead! Char.
lotte ! shut up in a pit, so deep, so cold, so
dark.-I had a friend who was every thing
to me in my helpless youth; she died: I
followed her hearse, I stood by the side of
her grave when the coffin was let down;
when I heard the creaking of the cords as
they were let down and drawn up, when
the first shovelful of earth was thrown in,
and the coffin returned a hollow sound,
which grew fainter and fainter, till it was
all covered in, I threw myself on the
ground; my heart was smitten, grieved,
rent; but I neither knew what had happened, nor what was to happen to me.-Death !
understand not the words.
Grave !-I
forgive !--yesterday-Alas!
Forgive!
that moment should have been the last of
my life. I am beloved! am beloved by her !
the delightful sense of it for the first time
penetrated, inflamed my heart. My lips
still feel the sacred warmth they received
from thine. New torrents of delight flow in
upon my heart.-Forgive me! forgive me !
Oh! I knew that I was dear to you; I
saw it in the first animated lookwhich you
directed to me; I knew it the first time you
pressed my hand: but when I was absent
from you, when I saw Albert by your side,
my doubts and fears returned.
, Do you recollect the flowers you sent me,
when at a disagreeable and crowded assem.
bly you could neither speak to mne,nor hold
out your hand? Half the night I was on
my knees before those flowers; they were
the pledges of affection : but these impres.
sions
grew fainter, and were at length ef.
faced.-Every thing passes away; but a
whole eternity could not extinguish the
flame which was yesterday kindled by your
lips, the flame I feel within me.-She loves
me! these arms have encircled her waist,
these lips have trembled upon hers; she is
mine-Yes, Charlotte! you are mine for
ever !
Albert is your husband; but what of
that? it is for this life only.-And in this
life only it is a crime to love you, to wish
to tear you from him! This is a crime, and
I punish myself for it : I have enjoyed itI have enjoyed the full delight of it.-I
drew in a balm which has revived my soul.
From this moment you are mine-yes,
Charlotte, you are mine. I go before you,
I go to my father, to thy father; I shall
carry my sorrows to the foot of his throne,
and he will give me comfort till you arrive.

4

THE SORROWS OF WERTER.

Then will I fly to meet you, I will claim
you, and remain with you for ever in the
presence of the Almighty. I do not dream,
I do not rave; drawing near to the grave,
my perceptions are more clear. We shall
exist, we shall see one another again,
we shall see your respected mother ; I
shall see her, I shall find her out, and I
shall not be afraid to show her my heart.Your mother! your image!
eleven o'clock, Werter asked his
servantif Albert was returned: heanswered, " Yes ; for he had seen him go by on
horseback." Upon which Werter sent him
with the following note unsealed:
" Be so good to lend me your pistols for
a journey. Adieu!"
[ABoUT

The tender Charlotte had passed the
night in great agitation and distress; her
blood boiled in her veins, and painful sensations rent her heart. The ardour of
Werter's passionate embraces had, in spite
of all her efforts, stolen into her bosom : at
the same time she recalled to her memory
the days of her tranquillity and innocence,
and they appeared to her with new charms.
She dreaded the looks of her husband, and
the pointed irony of his questions, after he
had heard of Werter's visit. She had never
been guilty of any falsehood, never had
dissembled, and for the first time she felt
the necessity of it. Her distress and repugnance made her think her fault more
enormous; and yet she could neither hate
the author of it, nor even resolve to see
him no more. Melancholy and languid,
she was scarcely dressed when her husband
came in : his presence was for the first time
irksome to her. She trembled lest he
should perceive that she had been crying,
and had had no sleep ; and this apprehension increased her embarrassment. She received him with a kind eagerness, which
rather betrayed remorse and confusion than
expressed any real satisfaction.
Albert
observed it; and after opening some letters, he drily asked her, whether there was
any news, and who she had seen in his absence ? She answered, after some hesita.
tion, " Werter spent an hour here yester.
day."-" He chooses his time well," said
Albert; and went into his room. Charlotte
remained alone for a quarter of an hour.
The presence of a man she esteemed and
.loved gave a new turn to her thoughts: she
recollected all his kindness, the generosity
of his character, his attachment to her;
and she reproached herself for having so
ill requited him. A secret impulse prompt
ed her to follow him ; she went to his room,
and took her work with her, as she some.
times used to do. She asked him, when she
went in, if he wanted any thing ? he said
" No," and began to write r she sat down
and worked. Albert from timeto time took
a few turns up and down the room ; and
then Charlotte addressed some discourse to
him: but he scarcely made her any an.
swer, and sat down again to his bureau,
behaviour was made more painful to
her, by her endeavours to hide the concern

This

she felt from it, and to restrain the tears
which were every moment ready to flow
They had passed an hour in this irksome
situation, when the arrival of Werter's ser.
vant completed Charlotte's distress. As
soon as Albert had read the note, he turned
coldly to his wife, and said, " Give him the
pistols--I wish him a good journey." These
words were a thunderstroke to Charlotte;
she got up, and tottering, walked slowly to
the wall, with a trembling hand took down
the pistols, and by degrees wiped off the
dust. She would have made still more delay, had not a look from Albert obliged her
to leave off She then delivered the fatal
arms to the servant, without being able to
speak a single word; folded up her work,
and went directly to her room, overcome
with mortal grief, and her heart foreboding
dreadful calamities. Sometimes she was
upon the point of going to her husband, to
throw herself at his feet, and to acquaint
him with all that had happened the preceding evening; to tell him her fault, and
her apprehensions :-but then she foresaw
that it would be useless, and that Albert
would certainly not be persuaded to go to
Werter's house. Dinner was served; and
a friend of Charlotte's, whom she desired
to stay with her, helped to support the con.
versation. When Werter heard that Char.
lotte had given the pistols with her own
hand, to his servant, he received them with
transport. He ate some bread, and drank
a glass of wine, sent his servant to dinner,
and then began to write.]
To CHARLOE, N CONTINUATION
-THEY have been in your hands; you
wiped the dust from them: I give them a
thousand kisses; you have touched them.
Ah! Heaven approves and favours my design. It is you, Charlotte, who furnish me
with the fatal instruments I wished to receive my death from your hand, and from
your hand I am going to receive it. I have
been inquiring of my servant-you trem.
bled when you gave him the pistols; but
you did not bid me adieu.-Wretched !
wretched that I am!-not one adieu!-In
that moment, which unites me to you fo
ever, can your heart be shut against me?
Oh! Charlotte! ages cannot wear out the
impression; yet I feel that you cannot hate
the man who has this passionate love for
you.
[AFTER dinner he had his trunk packed up,
destroyed a great many papers, and went
out to discharge some trifling debts. He
returned home; and then went out again,
notwithstanding the rain, first to the
Count's garden, and then farther into the
y
e
etre
t
country. He returned when night Gm
came
on, and began to write again.]
-- My dear friend, I have for the last time
seen the mountains, the forests, and the
sky. Adieu
dearest mother, forgive
ure : my friend, I entreat you to comfort
her. God bless you!-1 have settled all
my affairs; farewell! We shall see one
another again, we shall see one another
when we are more happy.

!-My

THE SORROWS OF WERTER.
I have but ill requited you, Albert; and
you forgive me.-I have disturbed the
peace of your family; I have occasioned a
want of confidence between you. Adieu!
I am going to put an end to all this. May
my death remove every obstacle to your
happiness! Albert, Albert, make that angel
happy; and may the benediction of Heaven
be upon you.
[HE finished the settling of his papers;
tore and burned a great many, others he
sealed up and directed to his friend. They
contained loosethoughts and maxims, some
of which I have seen. At ten o'clock he
ordered his fire to be made up, and a pint
of wine to be brought to him, and then dismissed his servant; who, with the rest of
the family, lay in another part of the house.
The servant lay down -in his clothes, that
he might be sooner ready the next morning, his master having told him that the
post horses would be at the door before six
o'clock.]
WERTER, IN CONTINUATION,TO CHARLOTTE.

PAST eleven o'clock. All is silent round
me, and my soul is calm !-I render thanks
to thee, O God ! that thou grantest to me
in these last moments warmth and vigour.
I draw near to the window, my dear
friend, and through clouds, which are dri
ven rapidly along by impetuous winds, I see
some stars. Heavenly bodies ! you will not
fall : the Eternal supports both you and
me ! I have also seen the Greater Bearfavourite of all the constellations ; for when
I left you in the evening it used to shine
opposite your door. How often have I
looked at it with rapture! how often raised
my hand towards it, and made it a witness
of my felicity ! And still-Oh ! Charlotte !
what is there which does not bring your
image before me ? Do you not surround me
on all sides; and have I not, like a child,
collected together all the little things which
you have made sacred by your touch?
The profile, which was so dear to me, I
return to you, Charlotte; and I pray you
to have a regard for it. Thousands of
kisses have I imprinted on it, and a thousand times have I addressed myself to it as
I went out and came in.
I have wrote a note to your father, to
beg he will protect my remains. At the
corner of the church-yard, which looks to.wards the fields, there are two lime trees;
it is there I wish to rest : this is in your
father's power, and he will do it for his
friend. Join your entreaties to mine. Perhaps pious Christians will not choose that
their bodies should be interred near the
corpse of an unhappy wretch like me. Ah !
let me then be laid in some remote valley;
or by the side of the highway, that the
priest and Levite, when they pass my tomb,
may lift their eyes to Heaven, and render
thanks to the Lord, whilst the Samaritan
gives a tear to my fate.,
Charlotte ! I do not shudder now that I
hold in my hand the fatal instrument of

3

my death. You present it to me, and I do
not draw back. All, all is now finished;this is the accomplishment of all my hopes,
thus all my vows are fulfilled!
Why had I not the satisfaction to die for
you, Charlotte, to sacrifice myself for you ?
-And could I restore peace and happiness
to your bosom, with what resolution, with
what pleasure should I meet my fate ! But
to a chosen few only it is given to shed
their blood for those who are dear to them,
and augment their happiness by the sacrifice.
I wish, Charlotte, to be buried in the
clothes I now wear : you have touched
them, and they are sacred. I have asked
this favour too of your father.-My soul
hovers over my grave.-My pockets are not
to be searched.-The knot of pink riband,
which you wore on your bosom the first
time I saw you, surrounded by your children-(Dear children! I think I see them
playing round you; give them a thousand
kisses, and tell them the fate of their unfortunate friend. Al ! at that first moment, how strongly was I attracted to you!
how unable ever since to loose myself from
you !)-This knot of riband is to be buried
with me; you gave it me on my birthday.
-Be at peace; let me entreat you, be at
peace !They are loaded-the clock strikes twelve
-- I go-Charlotte ! Charlotte ! Farewell!
Farewell!
[ONE of the neighbours saw the flash, and
heard the report of the pistol; but every
thing remaining quiet, he thought no more
of it.
At six in the morning, his servant went
into the room with a candle. He found his
master stretched on the floor, and weltering in his blood : he took him up in his
arms, and spoke to him, but received no answer. Some small symptoms of life still
appearing, the servant ran to fetch a sur,
geon, and then went to Albert's. Charlotte
heard the gate bell ring; a universal tremor seized her : she waked her husband,
and both got up. The servant, all in tears,
told them the dreadful event.-Charlotte
fell senseless at Albert's feet.
When the surgeon came to the unfortunate Werter, he was still lying on the floor,
and his pulse beat: but the ball, going in
above his eye, had pierced through the
skull. However, a vein was opened in his
arm; the blood came, and he still continued to breathe.
It was supposed, by the blood round his
chair, that he committed this rash action,
as he was sitting at his bureau; that he afterwards fell on the floor-He was found
lying on his back, near the window. He
was dressed in a blue frock and buffl waistcoat, and had boots on. Every body in the
house and in the neighbourhood, and in
short, people from all parts of the town ran
to see him. Albert came in : Werter was
laid on his bed, his head was bound up, and
the paleness of death was on his face.
There were still some signs of life; but

36

THE SORROWS OF WERTER.

every moment they expected him to expire.
He hadl drank only one glass of wine. Emilia Galoti was lying open upon his bureau.
I will say nothing of Albert's great distress, nor of the situation of Charlotte.The old Steward, as soon as he heard of
this event, hurried to the house: he embraced his dying friend, and wept bitterly.
His eldest boys soon followed him on foot;
they threw themselves on their knees by
the side of Werter's bed, in the utmost despair, and kissed his hands and face. The
eldest, who was his favourite, held him in

his arms till he expired; and even then he
was taken away by force. At twelve Werter breathed his last. The Steward, by his
presence and his precautions, prevented
any disturbance amongst the populace;
and in the night the body of Werter was
buried in the place he himself had chosen.
The Steward and his sons followed him to
the grave. Albert was not able to do it.
Charlotte's life was despaired of. The body
was carried by labourers, and no priest attended.]

THEODOSIUS AND CONSTANTIA.
BY JOHN LANGHORNE D.D.
PREBENDARY OF WELLS, AND RECTOR OF BLAGDON,
IN SOMERSETSHIRE.

TO

ADVERTISEMENT.

GEORGE COLMAN, EsQ.
As this volume may, possibly, fall into the
hands of some who are unacquainted with
the story of Theodosius and Constantia, it
is thought necessary to print it here as related by the Spectator, No.
" CONSTANTIA was a woman of extra)r.
From gifts like these, saywhat the boasted gain
dinary wit and beauty, but very unhappy
Of those who exquisitely feel or know
-The skill from pleasure to extract its pain,
in a father, who having arrived at great
And open all the avenues of woe.
riches by his own industry, took delight in
nothing but his money.
Yet shall we, COLMA, at these gifts repine ?
THnosUs was the younger son of a de.
Implore cold apathy tosteel theheart?
Would you that sensibility resign?
[part cayed family; of great parts and learning,
?
And with those powers of genius would you improved by a genteel and virtuous education. When he was in the twentieth year
Ah no ! my friend: nor deem the verse divine,
Thatweakness wrote in Petrarch's gentle strain of his age he became acquainted with Con!
When once he own'd at love's unfavouring shrine
stantia, who had not then passed her fif"A thousand pleasures were not worth one teenth. As he lived but a few miles dis.
pain."
tant from her father's house, he had frequent opportunities of seeing her; and by
The dreams of fancy soothe the pensive heart;
For fancy still can new delights dispense ;
the advantages of a good person, and a
The powers of genius purer joys impart,
pleasing conversation, made such an imFor genius brightensall the springs of sense.
pression on her heart as it was impossible
O charm of every muse-ennobled mind,
for time to efface: he was himself no less
Far, far above the grovelling crowd to rise!smitten with Constantia. A long acquainLeave the low train of trifling cares behind,
tance made them still
discover new
Assert its birth-right and affect theskies
beauties in each other, and by degrees rais.
O right divine the pride of power to scorn ;
ed in them that mutual passion which had
On fortune's little vanity look down !
an influence on their following lives.
With nobler gifts, to fairer honours born,
It unfortunately happened that, in the
Than fear or folly fancies in a crown l
midst of this intercourse of love and friendAs far each boon that nature's hand bestows
ship between Theodosius and Constantia,
The worthless glare of fortune's train exceeds,
there broke out an irreparable quarrel beAsyron fair orb, whose beam eternal glows,
tween their parents, the one valuing himOutshines the transient meteor that it feeds.
self too much upon his birth, and the other
To nature, CoLmAc,let thy incense rise,
upon his possessions. The father of ConFor much-indebted, much hastthou to pay;
stantia was so incensed at the father of
For taste refined, for wit correctly wise,
Theodosius, that he contracted an unrea.
And keen discernment's soul-pervading ray.
sonable aversion towards his son, insomuch
To catch the manners from the various face,
that he forbade him his house and charged
To paint the nice diversities of mind,
his daughter upon her duty never to see
The living lines of character totrace,
She gave thee powers, and shethe task assign'd. him more. In the mean time, to break off
all communication between the two lovers,
Seize, seize the pen ! the sacred hour departs l
who he knew entertained secret hopes of
Nor, led by kindness, longer lend thine ear,
some favourable opportunity that should
The tender tale of two ingenuous hearts
bring them together, he found out a young
Would rob thee of a moment and a tear.
gentleman of a good fortune and an agreeJ. LANGHORNE.
able person, whom he pitched upon as a
To live beneath the golden star of love,
With happier fancy, passions more refined "
Each softening charm of tenderness to prove,
And all the finer movements of the mind.-

164,

2

THEODOSIUS AND CONSTANTIA.

husband for his daughter. He soon concerted the affair so well, that he told Constantia it was his design to marry her to
such a gentleman, and that her wedding
should be celebrated on such a day. Constantia, who was overawed by the authority of her father, and unable to object any
thing to so advantageous a match, received the proposal with a profound silence,
which her father commended in her as the
most decent manner of a virgin's giving her
consent to an overture of that kind. The
noise of this intended marriage soon
reached Theodosius, who, after a long tumult of passions which naturally rise in a
lover's heart'on such an occasion, wrote the
following letter to Constantia :
'THE thought of my Constantia, which
for some years has been my only happiness,
is now become a greater torment to me than
I am able to bear. Must I then live to see
you another's ? The streams, the fields and
meadows, where we have so often talked
together, grow painful to me; life itself is
become a burden. May you long be happy
in the world, but forget that there was ever
such a man in it as
THEODOSIUs.'
This letter was conveyed to Constantia
that very evening, who fainted at the reading of it; and the next morning she was
much more alarmed by two or three messengers that came to her father's house one
after another, to inquire if they had heard
any thing of Theodosius, who, it seems,
had left his chamber about midnight, and
could no where be found. The deep melancholy which had hung upon his mind
sometime before, made them apprehend
the worst that could befall him. Constantia, who knew that nothing but the report
of her marriage could have driven him to
such extremities, was not to be comforted:
She now accused herself of having so tame.
ly given an ear to the proposal of a husband, and looked upon the new lover as
the murderer of Theodosius: in short, she
resolved to suffer the utmost effects of her
father's displeasure, rather than comply
with a marriage which appeared to her so
full of guilt and horror. The father seeing himself entirely rid of Theodosius, and
likely to keep a considerable portion in his
family, was not very much concerned at
the obstinate refusal of his daughter, and
did not find it very difficult to excuse himself upon that account to his intended sonin-law, who had all along regarded this alliance rather as a match of convenience
than of love. Constantia had now no relief but in her devotions and exercises of
religion, to which her afflictions had so en.
tirely subjected her mind, that after some
years had abated the violence of her sorrows, and settled her thoughts in a kind of
tranquillity, she resolved to pass the remainder of her days in a convent. Her father was not displeased with a resolution
which would save money in his family, and
readily complied with his daughter's intentions. Accordingly, in the twenty-fifth

year of her age, while her beauty was yet
in all its height and bloom, he carried her
to the neighbouring city, in order to look
out a sisterhood of nuns among whom to
place his daughter. There was in this place
a father of a convent, who was very much
renowned for his piety and exemplary life;
and as it is usual in the Romish church for
those who are under any great affliction, or
trouble of mind, to apply themselves to the
most eminent Confessors for pardon and
consolation, our beautiful votary took the
opportunity of confessing herself to this
celebrated Father.
We must now return to Theodosius,
who, the very morning that the above
mentioned inquiries had been made after
him, arrived at a religious house in the
city where now Constantia resided; and
desiring that secrecy and concealment of
the Fathers of the convent, which is very
usual upon any extraordinary occasion, he
made himself one of the order, with a private vow never to inquire after Constantia;
whom he looked upon as given away to his
rival, upon the day on which, according to
common fame, their marriage was to have
been solemnized. Having in his youth
made a good progress in learning, that he
might dedicate himself more entirely to religion, he entered into holy orders, and in
a few years became renowned for his sanc.
tityin life, andthosepious sentiments which
he inspired into all who conversed with
him. It was this holy man to whom Constantia had determined to apply herself in
confession, though neither she nor any
other, besides the Prior of the convent,
knew any thing of his name or family.
The gay, the amiable Theodosius, had now
taken upon him the name of Father Fran,
cis, and was so far concealed in a long beard,
a shaven head, and a religious habit, that
it was impossible to discover the man of
the World in the venerable conventual.
As he was one morning shut up in his
confessional, Constantia kneeling by him,
opened the state of her soul to him; and
after having given him the history of a life
full of innocence, she burst out in tears,
and entered upon that part of her story, in
which he himself had so great a share.
My behaviour, says she, has, I fear, been
the death of a man who had no other fault
but that of loving me too much. Heaven
only knows how dear hliewas to me while he
lived, and how bitter the remembrance of
him has been to me since his death. She
here paused, and lifted up her eyes that
streamed with tears toward the Father ;
who was so moved with the sense of her
sorrows, that he could only command his
voice, which was broke with sighs and sobbings, so far as to bid her proceed. She fol
lowed his directions, and in a flood of tears
poured out her heart before him. The Fa.
ther could not forbear weeping aloud, insomuch that in the agonies of his grief the
seat shook under him. Constantia, who
thought the good man was thus moved by
his compassion towards her, and by the horror of her guilt, proceeded with the utmost
contrition to acquaint him with that vow

THEODOSIUS AND CONSTANTIA.
of virginity in which she was going to engage herself, as the proper atonement for
her sins, and the only sacrifice she could
make to the memory of Theodosius. The
Father, who, by this time, had pretty well
composed himself, burst out again in tears
upon hearing that name to which he had
been so long disused, and upon receiving
this instance of an unparalleled fidelity
from one who, he thought, had several
years since given herself up to the possession of another. Amidst the interruptions
of his sorrows, seeing his penitent overwhelmed with grief, he was only able to
bid her, from time to time, be comfortedto tell her that her sins were forgiven her
-that her guilt was not so great as she apprehended-that she should not suffer herself to be afflicted above measure. After
which he recovered himself enough to give
her the absolution in form: directing her
at the same time to repair to him again the
next day, that he might encourage her in
the pious resolution she had taken, and
give her suitable exhortations for her be.
haviour in it. Constantia retired, and the
next morning renewed her applications.
Theodosius having manned his soul with
proper thoughts and reflections, exerted
on this occasion in the bestmanner
he could, to animate his penitent in the
course of life she was entering upon, and
wear out of her mind those groundless fears
and apprehensions which had taken posses.
sion of it; concluding, with a promise to
her, that he would, from time to time,
continue his admonitions when she should
have taken upon her the holy veil. The
rules of our respective orders, says he, will
not permit that I should see you, but you
may assure yourself not only of having a
place in my prayers, 'but of receiving such
frequent instructions as I can convey to you
by letters.'
on cheerfully in the glorious
course you have undertaken, and you will
quickly find such a peace and satisfaction
in your mind, which it is not in the power
of the world to give.
Constantia's heart was so elevated with
the discourse of Father Francis, that the
very next day she entered upon her vow.
As soon as the solemnities of her reception
were over she retired, as it is usual, with
the Abbess, into her own apartment.
The Abbess had been informed the night
before of all that had passed between her
noviciate and Father Francis, from whom
she now delivered to her the following letter :
'As the first fruits of those joys and consolations which you may expect from the
life you are now engaged in, I must acquaint you that Theodosius, whose death
sits so heavy upon your thoughts, is still
alive; and that the Father to whom you
have confessed yourself, was once that
Theodosius whom you so much lament.
The love which we have had for one another, will make us more happy in its disappointment, than it could have done in its
success. Providence has disposed of us for
our advantage, though not according to
our wishes. Consider your Theodosius still

himself

3

as dead, but assure yourself of one who
will not cease to pray for you in
FATi R FRANCIS.'
Constanna saw that the hand-writing
agreed with the contents of the letter: and
upon reflecting on the voice, the person,
the behaviour, and above all the extreme
sorrow of the Father during her confession,
she discovered Theodosius in every particular. After having wept with tears of
joy, It is enough, says she, Theodosius is
still in being; I shall live with comfort
and die in peace.
The letters which the Father sent Ter
afterwards are yet extant in the nunnery
where she resided; and are often read to
the young religious to inspire them with
good resolutions and sentiments of virtue.
It so happened that after Constantia had
lived about ten years in the cloister, a vio.
lent fever broke out in the place, which
swept away great multitudes, and among
others Theodosius. Upon his death-bed he
sent his benediction in a very movingmanner to Constantia; who at that time was
herself so far gone in the same fatal dis.
temper, that she lay delirious. In the interval which generally precedes death in
sicknesses of this nature, the Abbess finding that the physicians had given her over,
told her that Theodosius was just gone before her, and that he had sent her his benediction in his last moments. Constantia
received it with pleasure : and now, says
she, if I do not ask any thing improper,
let me be buried by Theodosius. My vow
reaches no farther than the grave. What
I ask is, I hope, no violation of it.-She
died soon after, and was interred according
to her request.
Their tombs are still to be seen, with a
short Latin inscription on them to the fol
lowing purpose :
'Here lie the bodies of Father Francis
and Sister Constance. They were lovely in
their lives, and in their death they were
not divided.'"

THE
CORRESPONDENCE
of
THEODOSIUS AND CONSTANTIA.
""
LETTER I.
cONsTANTIA TO THHODOSIUS.

Is it possible that Theodosius can approve
the philosophy of Bernier? What would
become of Christianity, were we to adopt
the following Creed ?-L'abstinence des
plaisirs me paroitungrandpeche. A sin to
abstain from pleasures !-what can he
mean? Is not this perfectly the reverse of

4

THEODOSIUS AND CONSTANTIA.

all moral and religious precepts? Are not
abstinence, and mortification, and selfdenial echoed in our ears from the first
dawn of reason? Are not we taught to
guard against the prevalence of pleasures
in general, and to look upon them as enemies under the mask of friendship ? Consider them in a religious light, and they
confessedly alienate the heart from its duty.
The lovers of pleasure cannot be lovers of
God.-The a ectionscannot beset on things
above, while they tend to earthly objects.Consider their moral tendency, and they
will be found to vitiate and debase the soul.
Selfishness, and a neglect of the social duties, are inseparable from the pursuit of
pleasures.-These are jealous gods, and demand from their votaries all the affections
of the heart, all the attentions of the mind.
They enslave the better faculties, and make
the senses the tyrants of the understanding.
Surely the mind is too noble a province
for such rulers; and to me the maxim of
Bernier appears to be no less inconsistent
with sound philosophy, than with true religion. I fancy you will find some difficulty to support him in the opinion of
CONSTANTIA.

LETTER II.
THEODOSIUSTO CONSTANTA,

EVER amiable, and ever ingenious; pious
in her enquiries, and modest in her conclusions;-how delightful to accompany
Constantia in the researches of truth and
science!-Clear in her conceptions, and
acute in her expression, through the medium of her language, we discover more
clearly, even those sentiments that are not
unknown to us.-It assists the understanding in the same manner as the telescope
aids the eye, and brings near the distant
object.
Thus it is, Madam, that while you call
upon me to the decision of moral or religious enquiries, and place me in the dictatorial chair; after having invested me with
the commission of a judge, like a skilful
advocate, you in some measure qualify me
for that office, by laying before me the
whole merits of the cause,
When I praised the philosophy of Bernier I had not indeed forgot that singular
maxim of which you have taken notice;
but I was by no means aware that you
would seize upon this eminence, and from
thence discharge your artillery both on the
philosopher, and his encomiast.
Well-fair friend! since Venus is armed
for the engagement, and has already made
her attacks, she must expect to meet with
a Diomede.-But Theodosius, perhaps, will
not be satisfied with his conquest; if, like
the goddess of beauty, Constantia should
retreat, wounded only in the hand.
Yes, my amiable moralist, I do approve
the philosophy of Bernier; nay, I adopt his
creed too, and cordially declare with him L'

mparoit ungrandpg.
abstinencedesplaisirs
che. What is sin ? Is it not to act contrary
to the will of the Supreme Being ?-Beyond
all doubt; where that will is known. Is it
not evident that the benevolent Creator of
the universe intended, and still intends
only the happiness of his creatures ?-This
must be allowed from the consent and the
appearance of his works in general.-And
is not pleasure happiness ? It must be so,
or the term is vain. If then the Supreme
Being intended principally the happiness or
his creatures, and if pleasure be happiness;
to abstain from pleasure, is to frustrate the
intentions of Providence-to act contrary
to his will; which is, confessedly, the very
essence of sin-L' abstinence des plaisirsest
plche. It is a capital sin to ab.
un GRAND
stain from pleasure, since it must have
been the primary view of the divine beneficence to communicate pleasure to human
nature.
To what other end was this pomp, this
magnificence of beauty scattered over the
visible universe? Is not this the language
of nature, through all her smiling works ?
" Children, be happy-brought into exis.
tence by the command of that glorious Be.
ing who is love itself, your inheritance is
pleasure, and it is your only duty to cultivate it well." Are they not, therefore, chil.
dren of disobedience, who, thus invited
into the vineyard, stand idle in the market.
place, and vainly say, that 'no man hath
employed them?'

Hath God created a Paradise, and will
not man look around him to enjoy it; but,
like his first parent, as described by the
English poet, still pensively contemplate
himself in the murmuring fountain ? hall
he for ever seek his image in the waters of
adversity; and shall the fair scenes of life
be deformed through such a mirror?
Surely to abstain from pleasure is a ne.
gative kind of guilt; since that very absti.
nence is a reproach to the eternal and invariable Benevolence!
From whom do we derive every natural
Desire? By whose wisdom were the fine
organs of sensation formed ? To whose
bounty do we owe the objects of gratifica.
tion ? And to whose benevolence are we in.
debted for the capacity of enjoyment ? Pro.
ceed not these powers and faculties from the
great source of all things? Was not each
adapted to its peculiar function? And is
not the neglect of these capacities a fault?
Is not the mortification of them a crime?
By what means came pleasure into the
world? Was it introduced by some malig.
nant spirit? Did some Dammon contrive it
for the destruction of mankind? That
could not be; for no inferior being could
have power to pervert the faculties and
capacities of human nature. In such a
case, the Supreme Creator must have been
an imperfect being.-He must have wanted
the will to secure the happiness of his crea.
tures, or, if he had the will, he must have
been without the power to execute or esta.
blish it. Either of these suppositions, it
would be folly to admit. Pleasure, there.
fore, can only owe its origin to God, and

THEODOSIUS AND CONSTANTIA.

5

Its very name proves it to be of divine ex- name of enjoyment, of the objects that
traction.
gratify, and the faculties that enjoy-in
And shall we refuse acquaintance with obedience to his benevolent intentions,
an object of heavenly descent? shall we would we summon the world to the pursuit
ungratefully bid the giver resume his gifts, of pleasure, and convince it that the sur
or reproach him with a supposition, that doth not shine in vain.
he would affect us with propensities we
Nor will this doctrine, as my fair friend
ought not to indulge,
apprehends, be at all inconsistent with the
Yes, Bernier, you are in the right. The pure precepts of that religion we profess.
renunciation of pleasure must be a sin-not
For, after all, what is pleasure? Is it to
only actually, but effectually a sin. The be found at the table of riotous festivity;
mind that refuses admittance to such a or, in the venal arms of erratic love? Im.
guest, must acquire a gloomy and unsocial possible! for these are the haunts of madhabit; be fit only for the regions of monas- ness, of meanness, disgust and folly.
tic dulness, where lazy sanctity offers a
Human Pleasure is of a delicate temper.
preposterous devotion to that Being, who She disclaims all connections with indeintended that we should rejoice in and par- cency and excess-She declines the society
take of a general and social happiness.
of untender Desire, and of Riot roaring in
When the bias of nature is opposed; the jollity of his heart. A sense of the
when her sovereign dictates are broken, dignity of human nature always accompa.
man becomes incapable of rendering any nies her, and she cannot admit of any thing
acceptable service either to his God, to that degrades it. Tenderness, good Faith,
society, or to himself! To his God he is un- Modesty, and Delicacy are her handmaids
grateful, nay, he insults him with a devo- Temperance and Cheerfulness are her
tion more becoming the worshippers of bosom friends-She is no stranger to the
Moloch, while he supposes him capable of endearments of love; but she always
delighting in cruelty, of afflicting his crea- suits her handmaids in the choice ofcontures, by giving them passions which it object: She never refuses her presencethe
at
should be a merit to mortify, and of tanta- the social board, where her friends are
lizing them, by requiring a rigid abstinence always placed on her right-hand, and on
from every inviting enjoyment that nature her left. During the time, she generally
suggested.-To the interests and affections addresses herself to Cheerfulness,till Temof society he becomes cold and indifferent, perance demands her attention.
when, what should principally engage him
Let us now, Constantia, enquire whether
to them, the social desires of nature groan this amiable being merits the charge that
beneath the yoke of undelighted absti- you have brought against her.
nence.--Upon the same principles, he is an
Will she alienate the heart from its
enemy to himself, to that being which was duty ?-But how ? has it not already apgiven him for his enjoyment, and which at peared, that she herself was sent
from God,
last he shall render back to thegiver, with the best gift of infinite benevolence ?-Itis
"I knew that thou wert a hard master, only in the abuse, in the perversion of the
therefore, the talent that thou gavest me I gift, that the heart can be alienated
from
have made no use of: Behold, here it is its duty.
again."
The lovers of pleasure
O pleasure! Thou first, best gift of be lovers of God-To may, undoubtedly,
be pleased with the
eternal beneficence ! Fairest and most be- gift, and not
love the giver would be
to
loved daughter of heaven, all hail ! and unnatural and ungrateful.--hence
welcome to sojourn on earth ! A stranger charge of the inspired writer, That the
some
thou artto every malignant and unsocial were
of pleasure more than lovers
passion, formed to expand, toexhilarate, to of God.'What was this more or less
humanize the heart !
than the charge of ingratitude?
But whither has my subject transported
The affections, you say, cannot be set
me ? Have I lost sight of Constantia ? that things above, while they tend to earthly on
ohcannot be ; for pleasure is my subject.
jects. Literally, they cannot ;-but the
Yet, possibly, my amiable friend is, by best devotion, that such an imperfect
this time, more than half displeased. ture as man is capable of paying, is creaderived
Where, says she, will this end? Has Theo- from his moral feelings, perceptions
dosius conspired with Bernier to revive the enjoyments.-When he finds himself and
happy
school of Epicurus?
in these, he is naturally led to adore
By no means, Madam? The pleasure we being who gave them ; to look up with that
preach is not the offspring of chance, but titude to him, and so far to 'set his graaffecthe child of God.
tions on things above,' as he
reason to
The Epicurean doctrine of pleasure is hope fora happier allotment inhas improved
an
selfish ; this that we would recommend is I state of existence.-Thus far, even a
regard
pious-.From considerations respecting the' to things on earth, may assist his piely,
and
uncertainty of this life, and the improba. encourage his hope.
bility of another, the Athenian philoso.
Our ideas of
pher, if we may believe his biographer, tremely abstractedheavenly objects are exfrom
and yet
Laertius, taught his followers to pursue in" difficult, through any sense, medium, it is
other
to
cessantly all that was called enjoyment.extend the affections to them.-lt has been
From reflections that are honourable to the observed, with philosophical truth,
eternal Providence. that conclude him to of the sacred writers, That 'if a by one
man
the liberal giver of all that deserves the not his brother whom he bath seen, love
how

'lovers

00

6

THEODOSIUS AND CONSTANTIA.

should he love God whom he hath not
seen ?'-I will borrow his mode of reasoning, and will add, If a man love not those
gifts of God which he hath seen, how
should he set his affection on those which
he hath not seen ?-If he hath not been
pleased with those enjoyments which the
divine bounty hath allotted him, as peculiarly adapted to this state of Being, what
moral prospect can he have of being better
satisfied in any future state ?
But you quarrel with the moral tendency
of pleasure, and load it with the heavy
charge of vitiating and debasing themind;
adding, that selfishness, and a neglect of
the social duties, are inseparable from the
pursuit of it.-Has not my friend made a
misnomer here, in giving the name of Pleasure to Vice ? Change the terms only, and
the charge is just. It is impossible that
innocent pleasures should vitiate, or that
delicate enjoyments should debase the
mind.-It is impossible that those social delights which soften the heart, should make
it selfish, or exclude from its feelings a re.
gard for the happiness of others.
If we look into the minds and manners
of men, we shall find that not the very
abstemious, the mortified, or the sanctimonious, are most distinguished for social
virtues.-The reason, I think, is obvious-when innocent appetites and desires are restrained, the social affections languish under the same oppression.-It is scarcely
possible, that any man who admits of no
enjoyments in himself, should be indulgent
to those of others.-We behold innumera.
ble instances of this, both in those who
cannot and in those who will not enjoy.
The encouragement of pleasure, there
fore, cherishes the social virtues; and he
who is of a happy disposition himself, will
be the first to promote the happiness of his
neighbour.
Yet, will not pleasures enslave the better
faculties, and make the senses the tyrants
of the soul? No doubt-if the enjoyments
of the mind are excluded; but the soul
has its peculiar pleasures which may and
ought to take their turn; and if the intellectual appetites are gratified, as well as
the sensual and the social; the province
of the mind will neither be uncultivated,
nor be subject to the usurpation of inva.
ders.
,
Pardon me, Constantia! when I write
to you, I know not when to have done!even now I lay down the pen with reluc.tance-even now, with a sigh, I subscribe
THEODOSIUs.

LETTER III.
CONSTANTIA THEODOSIUS.
TO
THERE is nothing more true, than that
credulity is the foible of women. I have a
violent inclination to believe every word
you have said; as well your gallantry as
your philosophy.-Nay, I can hardly bewail
the ruin of my poor arguments, though I

have the vanity to think, that the breaches
you have made in them, might easily be re.
paired.-However, you, certainly, had the
happiest address to introduceyour doctrme
by the hand of flattery. The understand
ing of a woman is by nothing so easily
vanquished, as by the artillery of praise.If it be to your purpose to weaken it, give
it the compliment of strength.
If you
would blind it, call it brighter than the
day.-The praise of a philosopher is really
a most dangerous thing, and it is not in
female fortitude to resist it.-Accompanied
with the ideas of truth and gravity, it
makes its way to the heart without oppo.
sition; and the sense and dignity of the
speaker conspire with our natural love of
it, to give it the sanction of sincerity.
Should I preclude all future compliments
from the letters of Theodosius, and say no
more than what is usually said upon such
occasions, viz. That I could not deserve
them, however true it might be, it would
not save me from the charge of affectation
-an imputation, which, of all others,
would be most dreadful to me! Frankhearted let me be esteemed, and though
destitute of every other excellence, I shall
not be the meanest of my sex.
But you see, myfriend, I have given you
serious, and I hope, satisfactory reasons,
why you should shut up the fountains of
adulation; unless you think that they will
give fertility to a barren soil.-Assure
yourself, I shall conclude this to be your
opinion, if you pay any more compliments
either to my person, or my understanding.
I find no inclination to controvert any of
the principles contained in your last.They are all amiable at least, if they are
not solid; and, possibly, it may be nothing
more than the prejudice of a narrow education, that would withhold any part of the
credit due to them.
Ah, my friend; for surely, you are my
friend, if any confidence may be reposed in
human appearances; pity the ignorance of
a hapless girl, I had almost said an orphan,
unassisted, and uninstructed !-Believe me,
Theodosius, to your conversation I am in.
debted for almost all the valuable senti.
ments I have.-You first taught me to
think at large.-You told me that liberty of
opinion was as much a natural inheritance
as personal liberty-that human nature
had long groaned under the tyranny of
custom; and that the worst species of
captivity was the imprisonment of the
mind.
Ever to be remembered is that distinguished lesson, which, upon our first acquaintance you gave me in the Grove of
Poplars. You politely pretended, that it
was written by some other person for the
instruction of another woman ;-but I soon
discovered in it the spirit and manner of
Theodosius, and found it so well adapted
to my own circumstances, that I could no
longer doubt either for whom, or by whom
it was written.
Notwithstanding this discovery, I must
beg you will favour me with a copy of it;
for that which you gave me has been de.

TIEODOSIUS AND CONSTANTIA.
stroyed, I believe, by the zeal and industry person, she affects the softness, the negl.
of Father M. Adieu !
gence, the languishments of beauty.These and innumerable more absurdities
CoNSTANTIA.
arising from the same principle of Affectation, renderher the contempt of your sex,
and the jest of ours.-Yet were ridiculous
manners the only effect of this principle,
LETTER IV.
the Coccatrici might be laughed at and
pitied; but the same insincerity, the same
THEODOSIUSTO CONSTANTIA,
deviation from truthand nature which pro.
BY supposing me to be the author of the duces these, has other consequences that
following Letter, you have laid me under render her detestable-she is scurrilous and
some disagreeable circumstances; but what treacherous: nor is this to be wondered at.
would you conclude, should I, on that A mind which affectation has alienated
account, refuse you a copy of it? Might from every natural principle of simplicity
you not justly charge me with that affec- loses, at the same time, the social virtues,
tation which you so greatly despise ?-you and becomes indifferent to the interests and
shallhave it, be the consequence what it the reputation of others.
'Of no simple ingredients is this charac.
will-Constantia commands, and Theodoter composed.-Forbidding pride, ridicu.
sius must obey.
lous vanity, insidious insincerity, virulent
Thoughts on the improvement of the Mind malignity, make a part of the composition
and Manners, addressed to a young lady of of the Coccatrici.
' Characters are always the best comBologna : By a Member of the Academy
ments upon precepts.-In the Coccatrici,
Della Crusca.
madam, you behold by what odious qua'MADAM,
lities a polished understanding may be de.
'THE first step that a young lady can based.
take towards improvement, is to be con' For the improvement of the manners,
vinced that she wants it.-The mind is therefore, something more must be necessituated in such an obscure recess, and is so sary than the mere acquisition of knowlittle the 'object of the senses, that it is a ledge; and this something I take to be the
difficult matter to take a view of it at all : cultivation of benevolence and sincerity
much more to behold it in its true light. An infinite number of virtues will spring
Hence, we are apt to believe it sufficiently from these valuable roots.-The love of
furnished, when desolate and empty; and humankindwill make you a friend to every
to think it properly cultivated, though it fellow-creature; and, together with the
produces little more than the rude growth approbation of your own heart, general
of nature.
esteem and admiration will be your re'Better, however, is even that growth, ward.-The love of truthwill save you from
.nan some artificial products. Better is the affectation, and from all its disagreeable
harvest of wild Simplicity, than the rank consequences-Sacrifice at the shrine of
and thriving crops that have been culti- Nature, and borrow from her your manners
,vated by the industry of Folly!
and sentiments, not from the fantastic
' Of all the offensive weeds that are apt humours of Fashion. From her, likewise,
to spring up in a young mind, and to op- borrow your knowledge, and not from the
press its better fruits, affectation is the labours of the schools.-She will give you
most destructive-where it takes root, the no narrow or illiberal ideas of her great
love of truth and nature perish unavoida- Author.-Be such writers, therefore your
bly, and artifice and insincerity usurp study, as have made her the s; such as
their place. Qualities like these are so have shown the wisdom, the eionomy, the
infinitely odious, so perfectly opposite to prudence, the benevolent purposes of her
all that is amiable or deserving of confi- works. The contemplation of such objects
dence, that, if a woman had an aversion to gives the mind a large and liberal turn;
being beloved, she could not find a more lays a foundation for the most rational
effectual antidote.
piety, and reconciles us to t he allotments of
'Never, Madam, have I known an affect- life, when we behold the superintendence
ed woman possessed of any amiable or any of a wise and benevolent power, over every
virtuous quality !
department of the universe.
SThe Coccatrici is not unknown to you.
Next to natural philosophy, the history
Behold in her, then, a most instructive of humankind will merit your attention.lecture on the management of the mind! Various are the advantages to be derived
For the Coccatrici, with the best natural from this course of reading.-A celebrated
understanding, not uncultivated by books, writer of antiquity has observed, that he
•s at pains to render herself the most odious who is ignorant of what happened before
woman in the world. Affectation has the his own times, is still a child.-Before I had
.absolute dominion both of her person and made a competent acquaintance with hismind.-Her words, her motions, her ac- tory, I never could read this passage withtions, her opinions, are all under the influ- out pain and shame.-I imagined that the
ence of Affectation; all receive its ugly eyes of the great Orator were upon me,
and disgustful stamp.-Obscurely born and that I appeared childish before him.
herself, the Coccatrici's passion is Distinc- I am now eKtremely well convinced, that
ltion.-Without any accomplishments of what he observed, was comparatively just.

8

THEODOSIUS AND CONSTANTIA.

'Ignorance is the characteristic of child.
hood, and the mind that is uninformed, at
whatever period of life, is still in a puerile
state.
'From the knowledge of past events and
their causes; from attending to the economy of Providence in the external and internal government of the world; by tracing the progress of science, and the gradual
improvement of the mind, we learn to
form just conceptions of human actions
and opinions, to make the best use of reason in foreseeing the consequences of principles yet unpractised; to enlarge and
liberalize our religious sentiments, while
we contemplate the Supreme Being in the
capacity of a universal parent; and to see
what moral perfection the human mind is
capable of, when man, in his savage, and
in his civilized state, is distinctly presented
to our view.
'These, Madam, are inquiries worthy of
a rational creature--worthy of that acute
and penetrating genius which the liberal
hand of Nature has given you !
'Make an adequate use of her generous
and valuable gifts.-Despise the sneer of
superficial foppery, that is ever jealous of
superior sense, and dreads the knowledge
of a woman, on account of its own ignorance. If you are not without hopes of
being united to a man of an accomplished
mind, qualify yourself for his company.Let him not be obliged to consider his wife
merely as a domestic, useful in her appointment; make him esteem her as a rational
companion, whose conversation may enliven the hours of solitude, and who with a
mind not vacant, or unfurnished, may, like
the householder in the gospel, 'bring forth
out of her treasure things new and old.'
'To what a despicable state would your
sex be degraded, by those monopolizers of
dignity and knowledge, who would debar
you from both !-What ! were reason, and
reflection, and memory, and every other
faculty that is adapted to literary improvements, given to you as they are lgiven to us,
by a different author, or for different pur.
poses P?-Mean fallacy in our sex, that
would establish the worst species of tyranny
over you, the tyranny of the mind!
Groundless and illiberal fear in man, that
be should lose his dignity in the eyes of a
woman, who was not inferior to him in
sense! Is it the property of cultivated
minds to see in an humble light the accom.plishments of others? Is it not from such
minds only, that they can meet the respect
due to their merit P?-He who is afraid of
marrying a woman, that is not absolutely
ignorant, gives a fair proof, at least, that
such is not his own case.
'There are provinces, in which our sex
may properly acquire and maintain a supe.riority of knowledge, and in which it
would not be worth your while to excel.There are, likewise, certain departments in
which you should claim, unrivalled, the
compliment of excellence; but the culti.
vation of the mind should be equally the
care of both, since nature has given to both,
mimds equally capable of cultivation.

'To an acquaintance with natural and
civil history, you will do well to join the
lighter and more amusive entertainments
of the Belles Lettres.-The study of the
former will enrich, that of the latter will
embellish the mind.-From works of taste
and harmony, we derive a kind of mechanical virtue, and learn to admire what is
truly beautiful and harmonious in moral
life.-The genius of poetry has a softening
and humanizing influence on the mind ;
and its pathetic powers increase that charm.
ing sensibility, that enthusiastic tenderness
and delicacy of affection, which renders
your lovely sex so justly the delight and
admiration of ours.
' I mean not, however, that by this kind of
reading you should soften your mind, so
much as form your taste, by admiring and
attending to what is perfectly beautiful, in
one of the finest arts of imitation.
' This art is so naturally adapted to culti.
vate that harmony, which the Academies
of old esteemed the essence of moral virtue,
that I was always at a loss to know why
Plato would have poets banished his commonwealth, till convinced it was because
they hurt the interests of religion, and injured the dignity of the Gods, by bringing
them into the joyous pursuits of poetry.
' After all, Madam,,whatever proficiency
you may have it in your power to make in
literary accomplishments, forget not that
the qualities of the heart are infinitely
preferable to these of the head. Should
you be unable, for want of assistance, or
opportunity, to furnish your mind with the
treasures of antiquity; to acquaint yourself with the philosophy of nature; or to
embellish your taste by the more polished
labours of genius; remember that you still
have it in your power to make yourself
amiable by a sweetness of disposition, by
an openness of heart, ana simplicity of
manners.'

Thus far, Constantia, the grave acade.
mician-you will now, I hope, not be un.
willing to take up the softer character of
the 1riend. Ah ! name replete with ten.
derness! comprehensive of every kind,
every faithful sentiment ! 'Surely you are
my friend,' did you say,-Yes, Constantia,
believe it, evermore believe it.-If every
ardent wish for your happiness, every active
impulse to serve and oblige you; if the
highest esteem, and the tenderest regard,
may be allowed to constitute the most
essential part of friendship, surely, Theo.
dosius is the friend of Constantia.
Yet, too generous in your acknowledg.
ments; too liberal even in your ideas of
gratitude;-why will you attribute to me
any part of your accomplishments? Alas!
what am I P The little virtues I have, if
any I have, I borrow from Constantia,
and by continually contemplating her per.
fections, I acquire, as it were, a habit of
inhitating them.
Can 1 make a better use of these un.
cheerful hours, that I am doomed to pass

THEODOSIUS AND CONSTANTIA.
at a distance from the friend of my heart ?
-Dans ces retraites solitaires, I find no
other consolation than what writing to, or
thinking of her affords me.
Why those needless prohibitions of
praise ? Why should Constantia forbid her
friend to compliment either her person, or
her understanding ?-the former has no
need of, and the latter is above all compliment!
What luxury in the indulgence of this
growing tenderness ! ah precious luxury !
-perhaps, forbidden!
Adieu! Adieu !
THEODOSIUS.

LETTER V.
CONSTANTIA TO THEODOSIUS.

EVER generous, and obliging; but, possibly, too tender !---Yet shall I blame my
friend for his tenderness ?-Surely, no-but
why 'forbidden ?'-what does that mean ?
Shall the intercourse of friendship be
forbidden ?-I cannot think of that-I
cannot, must not lose the friendship of
Theodosius.
You have my most grateful thanks for
the Academician's letter, which I will endeavour to secure from the inquisition of
Father M. The good man has a
strange aversion to every thing that tends
to open the understanding.-Yet why would
he keep us in the dark? Can it be of any
advantage to him? In my opinion, the
Academician, or, with your leave, Theodosius, incontestably proved the female
has
right to learning.
This, beyond all doubt, provoked the
worthy father's zeal, who used to say,
That all knowledge was invested in the
church.-Would to heaven, that the church
would be liberal for once, and dispense a
little of that knowledge to an ignorant girl,
who would be no less thankful for that
than for its prayers.
Will you, my friend, forgive me, when I
tell you, that I have frequently wished you
had been in holy orders, and appointed my
confessor instead of Father M? I flatter myself you would have indulged me
with works of learning and imagination,
and would not have confined my poor library to Oraisons and Notre Peres alone.
Do not you think that the professors of
religion hurt its interests, by pursuing them
too closely? Suppose they should now and
) hen afford us a little respite!-Suppose
aney should diversify our reading and our
studies; should we not return to the attentions of religion with greater alacrity?
All these churchmen, however, are not
equally contracted in their opinions.-I
have lately stolen the reading of a very delightful book, which, I have been informed,
was written for the entertainment and instruction of the Duke of Burgundy, by the
present Archbishop of Cambray, his preceptor.-I have, moreover, been told that
the publication of this book was eflected

by the treachery of a domestic, and that it
brought fresh inconveniencesonthe prelate
already in disgrace!
In what a miserable condition is human
reason, when liberal sentiments will bring
a man into disgrace! Adieu.
CoNSTANTIA.

LETTER VI.
'rTHEODOSIUS
TO CONSTANTIA.

I rejoice that you are become acquainted
ith the new publication of M. Fenelon,
the most amiable philosopher that ever
Europe produced ! His affluence of imagi.
nation ; his glowing and impassioned sentiments; the attic sweetness and delicacy
of his style-but, above all, that delightful
enthusiasm, which, worshipping at the
shrine of simple and beautiful Nature,
makes every reader a convert to her principles;-all these qualities givc to Fenelon
tie palm of philosophy among the moderns.
I mourn, with my generous Constantia,
I mourn his disgrace; for it is the disgrace
of my country. It is not for Fenelon we
need repine.-Reconciled to every event by
the addoucissement of philosophy, is ie not
more happy in the confines of Cambray,
than he could be, if, caressed amongst the
number of favourites, he yet breathed the
unwholesome air of a court? Zealous in
the discharge of his pastoral duties, a friend
to humankind from principle, busy in the
exercise of beneficence to all orders, and
all societies of men-Who is so happy, or
so great as Fenelon ?
Like some fair star that shoots its evening ray
Brighter along the dim wood's opening way,
So Fenelon, by favouring courts admired,
More feebly shone than Fenelon retired.

Think not, Constantia, that I am partial to this illustrious man, because I have
the honour and the happiness of his friendship.-The following substance of a conversation, that once passed between us, will
convince you, that I have given you no
flattering picture of him.
Mr. De Fenelon. My regard for you,
Theodosius, makes me wish your happiness; and if my longer acquaintance with
life may entitle me to give you any advice
on that subject, I will not be sparing of it.
Theodosius. Sir, you will do me the
greatest favour. I have hitherto been a
stranger to misery; and if you would ine
struct me how to preserve the happiness 1
enjoy, you need only tell me, how I may
deserve the continuance of your friendship.
Mr. De Fenelon. On that you may at all
times rely. But our friendships, like every
thing else that we enjoy, are subject to the
influences of chance and time. I will give
you the best proof I can of mine, therefore, while I have it in my power.---Tihe life of man has many cares belong.
to it ; but the first and greatest care is
that of the immortal Soul.-We cannot be
too attentive to the interests of a Being
oc2

ing

in

THEODOSIUS AND CONSTANTIA.

thaZ shall endure for ever, and to place any
other in the scale against these, would be
absolute folly.
Theodosius. My Lord!---Mr. De Fenelon.--But you cannot want
convictions of this kind.-Yet there is one
particular care respecting the soul which
may not have occurred to you.Theodosius. I beg to be informed of it.
Mr. De Fenelon. Have not you observed
the progressive improvement of the mental
faculties, from the first dawn of reason, to
the decline of life?
Theodosius. That improvement must be
obvious to every eye;-but some of those
faculties seem to decline with life itselfthe imagination frequently languishes under
the weight of years-the powers of reason
and reflection are, many times, almost
wholly lost; and the memory is entirely
effaced.-So far the perfection of the soul
seems to depend on the perfect state of the
body.
Mr. De Fenelon. As the body is merely
the habitation of the soul, its tenant can .
no longer occupy those apartments that are
ruinous, or decayed by time or accidents.
-Hence some of the mental faculties seem
to be annihilated, when they are only suspended; thus oftentimes we may vainly,
solicit the memory for an object to-day,
with which it will voluntarily present us
to-morrow. An intelligent nature cannot
suffer from material influences, and, therefore, may exist in the perfection of its
powers, though those powers, for want of
their proper vehicles, are not called forth.
Theodosius. I conceive the possibility of
this, and am now impatient to beinformed,
what new care it is, which has the soul for
itsoobject.
Mr. De Fenelon. As the faculties of the
soul are continually improvable, and eannot be destroyed by what happens to the
body, it is probable that in whatever state
of comparative perfection they are, upon
quitting this mode of being, in the same
they will pass into another, which, though
higher, shall be still improvable like the
former.
Theodosius. What would you infer from
hence?
Mr. De Fenelon. That, next to the exerelse of virtue, the improvement of the
mind ought to be our principal care: for
as the former will entitle us to an improved
state of being, so the latter will qualify us
for the enjoyment of it. From the benevolence of the Supreme Being, as well as
upon the principles of reason and philoso.
ohy, we have a right to hope that the soul,
when it quits the body, will not revert to
that state of ignorance in which it appears
to be, when it first informs it.
Theodosius. This is a very pleasing conclusion, and suggests to me a variety of
agreeable reflections.
Mr. De Fenelon. I have received great
satisfaction from the contemplation of it.
It is pregnant with many circumstances
comfort.-When we have been toiling for
the acquisition of knowledge, we may have
the pleasure to conclude, that we have not

been 'labouring for the bread that per.
isheth; but for that which endureth unto
eternal life.'-It must be the greatest consolation to reflect, that the mental improve
ments we make, shall last beyond the
grave; and tiakt the treasures of know.
ledge we lay up here, we shall enjoy here.
after.If we have contributed by our own writ.
ings to the advancement of science and the
cultivation of the mind-what a glorious
reflection does it afford, that these effects
will last for ever-that the souls which
have received new lights, new information
from our discoveries, shall retain them in
every successive period of being; and that
thus we shall have contributed to the per.
fection of glorified natures and everlasting
intelligences-There is something ravish.
ing in the thought-I am transportedI feel a godlike pleasure in the indulgence
of it.
Theodosius. You, my good Lord, who
have contributed so greatly to the cultiva.
tion of the human mind, have a right to
all the pleasures that such reflections can
afford;-and great, indeed, and adequate to
the dignity of human nature, are the ob.
jects of complacency that attend them.
But for my own part, I have always
thought, that every improvement the mind
could make in this state of being, would
be superfluous in another, that its faculties
would be infinitely enlarged, and that at
the command of Omnipotence, it would
make a quick transition to the angelic nature.
M. De Fenelon. For such suppositions,
however common they may be, I appre.
bend we have little more or better authority than what self-flattery will afford us: it
appears, and has ever appeared to me, more
probable that the soul should arise to a
state of such perfection as we conceive of
the angelic natures, by more regular gra.
dations, than are usually assigned to it.
*
*
*
*
Here our conversation was interrupted
by a letter from Madame Guyon; which
while the good prelate was perusing with
visible eagerness, I retired into the garden
and was led into the following melancholy
reflections :
' How affecting is it to observe, that the
most enlightened minds make the nearest
approaches to certain degrees of madness,
or of weakness ! Genius seems to be the
child of enthusiasm; and yet enthusiasm
is frequently the disgrace, the ruin of ge.
nius. The Archbishop of Cambray, the
literary ornament of Europe, distinguished
for the most pure, the most refined philo.
sophy, is carried away by the dreams os
fanaticism, and attends to the ravings of asn
insane devotee; for such is this Madame
Guyon!'
After walking some time alone, I was
again joined by the Archbishop, who, with
that calm benignity of countenance pecu.
liar to him, resumed the conversation.
What followed would stretch this letter
too far-expect an account of it in my next,
Adieu !
THEODOSIUS.

THEODOSIUS AN 1
LETTER VII.
THEODOSIUS
TO CONSTANTIA.

Mr. De Fenelon. You will excuse me,
Theodosius; a letter from Madame Guyon
always commands my attention. That seraphic woman seems to have obtained a
kind of beatification; and I look upon an
address from her as it were a voice from
heaven.-But I will not solicit your attention to a subject which has given occasion
to so many unhappy disputes. I will pursue my purpose of giving you the best instructions I am able to give you, with regard to your conduct and your happiness.
Before we can tread the stageoflife with
that gracefulness and propriety, which render every character easy and agreeable, it
is absolutely necessary, that we should acquire a considerable knowledge both of
mankind, and of ourselves.-This knowledge is not hastily, or easily to be obtain,
ed. We must have mixed with society,
and have attended to the different forms,
that the passions and pursuits of men assume in different characters, before we can
form any judgment of them that shall be
generally adequate. I have known some
men of so keen a penetration, that they
have been able to judge of characters almost intuitively ;-but hasty decisions,
though they may often be right, may likewise many times be wrong; and they
never ought to have the least weight with
us in any thing that may concern the reputation or the interest of the person we so
judge of.-What I would observe is, that
there are methods of acquiring a readiness
of judging; and that such an acquisition
must be of great use to us in the commerce
of life.-The only means I know of are
those I mentioned to you-to attend to and
learn the different forms that the passions
assume in different characters.
Theodosius. And yet, my Lord, may not
an artificial deportment frequently render
such an inquiry vain ?
Mr. De Fenelon. It may sometimes perplex it, but will seldom render it vain;even artifice itself takes a colour from the
passions, and they may be read and distinguished in its operations.
Theodosius. Thus you would instruct
me to know men in general;-but may
there not be a more particular process of
inquiry, where a more particular knowledge of individuals is necessary? I should
be glad to be informed how I might obtain
a thorough knowledge of the man 1 could
wish to make my friend.
Mr. De Fenelon. For this different methods have been recommended, and different experiments have been tried. Some
have had recourse to the chymical process
of the bottle, and others to a fictitious distress; but both to no valuable effect. The
first did not consider, that a man deprived
of reason is no longer a man; and the last
had not reflected that, on certain occasions,
a man might want the power, though he
wanted not the will, to relieve the distresses
of hias
friend.----

CONSTANTIA.

11

If you would obtain a perfect knowledge
of any man, it must be from his domestic
character.-Such a father, master, brother,
son, or husband, as he shall be found, such
a friend will he be.-It is moreover, in the
minuter circumstances of his conduct, that
we are to inquire for a man's real character.-In these he is under the influence of
his natural disposition, and acts from him.
self-while in his more open and impor.
tant actions, lie may be drawn by public
opinion, and many other external motives,
from that bias which nature would have
takenWere I once more to make choice of a
friend, the first qualities I would look for
in him, should be sincerity, and sensibility:
for these are the foundation of almost all
other virtues.
Theodosius. Stop not here, my Lord, I
intreat you; but tell me how that selfknowledge is to be acquired; the acquisition of which you have allowed to be so
essential to our happiness.
Mr. De Fenelon. There is no study so
necessary as this; and yet, unfortunately,
there is none so difficult. Self-knowledge
like that Hesperian fruit, which was defended by the vigilance of sleepless dragons, is surrounded by so many powerful
guards, that it is almost inaccessible.--In.
dulge me, a moment, Theodosius, in my
favourite province of allegory.-The most
assiduous of these guards is Vanity, and, at
the same time, the most artful.-If you are
determined to have access, she has address
enough to impose upon you, and, instead
of Self-knowledge, to present you with a different object, fair, indeed, and beautiful to
look upon, but very unlike the figure you
ought to have seen.-Pride stands, a dan.
gerous sentinel, at the gate of self-knowledge; when you demand admittance, he
seats you on a throne, and bids you look
down on the crowds that surround you ;
you look with complacency, and return
with ignorance.-Should the arts both of
Prideand Vanity be ineffectual, there is yet
another redoubt to be attacked, which is
defended by Self-deception. This is thi
subtlest of all the guards that surround the
tree of Self-knowledge-in her hand is a
waving mirror, that turns every way,
which so dazzles and confuses the sight,
that you, cannot possibly distinguish the
real object you aim at, from the images re.
flected in her mirror;-at length, with one
of those images you return, satisfied and
deceived.
Theodosius. These, indeed, make a for.
midable guard.-How shall they be overcome ?
Mr. De Fenelon. Only by the assistance
of Truth. As the machinations of inferior
enchanters vanish upon the appearance of
an abler magician; or, rather, as the diableries of infernal spirits are destroyed by
the influence of a celestial; so Pride, Vanity, and Self-deception, fly from the approach of Truth.
Theodosius. Yet is it. not, my Lord, a
matter of difficulty, to engage this valuable
auxiliary ?

12

THEODOSIUS AND CONSTANTIA.

Mr. De Fenelon. Or, rather, to persuade
ourselves to employ him-for there the difficulty lies :-before he can be brought
over to our party, he requires so many
mortifying concessions, that we reject his
services, because we are unwilling to pur.
chase them at so dear a rate.
Theodosius. Yet surely, my LordMr. De Fenelon. They are but imagi.
-nary possessions that hre requires us to part
with.-It is very true; and, for that reason,
one would think the terms not hard.-The
dominions of Vanity, like the gardens of
Armida, are purely ideal, and may be given
up without loss.
Theodosius. And yet, possibly, we are
indebted to this same Vanity, for half the
happiness we enjoy.-Does not the whole
art of happiness consist, principally, in being well deceived ?
Mr. De Fenelon. You have drawn me
upon a rock that I wished to avoid.-For
the sake of Truth and Virtue, I am willing
to persuade myself that it is not so;-certainly, we are not deceived when we derive
our happiness from the cultivation of these.
-- At the same time, I will own, that, such
is the weakness of human nature, there
are a thousand douceurs necessary to give
a relish to life, in the composition of which,
deceit has a principal hand--but what the
:English poet calls " The sober Certainty of
waking Bliss," that must undoubtedly flow
from the exercise, or the reflection of what
is real and substantial.
Theodosius. It should seem, then, that
there are twyo sources of happiness ;-one
from which the imagination derives fancied
entertainment and unreal pleasure; another that, arising in conscious virtue, yields
to reason and reflection a more genuine de.
light.
Mr. De Fenelon. Evidently-and we may
drink at both these sources: but we
should make it our care, that the fountains of imaginary pleasure contain nothing, that tend to inebriate or disorder the
mind.
Theodosius. Can they ever be attended
with such consequences ?
Mr. De Fenelon. Too frequently they
are.-The imagination may be indulged,
till it shall acquire an habitual empire over
the understanding.-A man whose genius
and temper are naturally warm and fanciful, may give himself up so entirely to the
sweet influences of enthusiasm, that the
powers of cool reason and discernment shall
be greatly invalidated, if not wholly suspended.*
*
*
*
*
*
Imagine, my Constantia, how this
speech affected
that moment the
affair of Madame Guyon occurred to me,
and I wept to think that my amiable in.
structor, in his own person, bore testimony
to the truth of his own observation.
The remaining part of our conversa.
tion, with my answer to some passages in
your last letter, shall follow this without
delay.
Adieu!
THEoDosus.

me.-At

LETTER VIII.
THEODOSIUS CONSTANTIA.
TO
I CONCEALED tears as well as ponible
my
while the good prelate thus proceeded.
Mr. De Fenelon. Every principle ac.
quires force and influence from habit; and
if it be, as it certainly must be, for our
happiness, to live under the dominion of
Reason, we should take care to exercise
and consult it upon every occasion.-Thus
it will acquire strength and efficacy, and
our obedience to its dictates will become
easy from habit.
Theodosius. The dictates of Reason are
undoubtedly the laws of life.-But, in general, my Lord, how impotent and ineffec.
tual !-What avails her legislation, when
the Will, the executive power, seems not to
be in her interest?
Mr. De Fenelon. The Will must be
gained over by art, and management.
Where Reason has not established her empire, she must do it by degrees;-exert
her authority in little and indifferent
things-make mock-fights with the enemy,
and have recourse to every other gradual
and persuasive method, which are made use
of to reconcile us to tasks of difficulty.
Theodosius. This method, indeed, my
Lord, is the most promising; but it seems,
that we either want skill, or inclination to
apply it.-We always consider reason, as
imposing her dictates with a magisterial
spirit.-She seems to approach us with an
air of rigid honesty, rude and unpolished,
as the dictators from the plough.Mr. De Fenelon. And did the same sis.
plicity of manners, which distinguished the
age of Cincinnatus, prevail at this day, she
would be as successful too.-Alas! Theo.
dosius, to the loss of that simplicity, to our
deviation from nature, we owe the greatest
part of those evils whereof we complain.
I think the precept most essential to the
happiness of human life, is, "Live agreeably to nature."
Theodosius. This precept, my Lord,
appears to want a comment.-May I have
the happiness to hear the Archbishop of
Cambray preach from such a text?
Mr. De Fenelon. Nature herself will
here be the best commentator. She, as
well as Reason, seems to have her con
science in the human mind, which fails
not to reproach us with every breach of
duty.
Alas! my friend, how often do we do
violence to Nature, and cast her dictates
behind! What artificial miseries do we lay
up for ourselves, from the indulgence of
imaginary wants !-we are not content to
search for happiness within the sphere ot
nature-it appears to be barren and insi.
pid;-we fly for it into the more spacious
and splendid circle of Art; we are amused
and dissipated in the search; but we never
find the object we are in quest of.-At
length, weary and disappointed, we look
back to the long-forsaken walks of Nature;
sorry that ever we deserted them, and
ready enough to compliment them, with

THEODOSIUS AND CONSTANTIA.
those pleasure-yielding qualities which we
should now be glad to find.-But this last
hope proves frequently vain :-by being
long accustomed to artificial habits, we
have lost all taste for simplicity, and what
might easily have engaged our affections
when young, we behold with aversion in
the'decline of life.
Theodosius. I understand you, my Lord.
-You would advise me to cultivate the
love of Nature, and to plan my life upon
her simple model, while yet I am young.
Mr. De Fenelon. I would-for the rea..
sons I have already mentioned ;-because
in her walks you will find the only genuine,
the only home-felt happiness ; which, however, you will be incapable of attaining,
should you defer the application, till the
habits of artificial life have deprived you of
all relish for natural enjoyments,
Theodosius. The wisdom and experience of
my venerable instructor would be sufficient
to convince me of the truth of these obser
vations; but I think I have, within the lit.
tle limits of my own attention, seen the last
confirmed in many instances.
Mr. De Fenelon. It must be obvious to
every person who makes the least remarks
on life, that those who have long lived in
the circle of Vanity, can never quit it.Not that they still find their account of
pleasure in it; but that they are unfit for,
and incapable of any other mode of enjoyment.-What veterans do we behold busy
in the pursuit of the most contemptible
trifles i What a disgrace to human reason, to behold a countenance, furrowed
with age, distorted with chagrin over an
unsuccessful game! How disgustful to
hear a matron weighed down with years,
discoursing like a girl, on the frippery of
modes !-These are the unavoidable effects
of pursuits habitually vain.But when I would advise you, Theodosius, to live agreeably to nature, it is not
alone that I would save you from frivolous
pursuits and fantastic follies.-Life is not
to be left inactive; and by escaping seduc-.
tion into the path of vanity, you will, of
course, take that of wisdom. To do this,
indeed, and to live agreeably to nature, are
terms of almost the same meaning.-For
the end of wisdom, is a rational and lasting
happiness, which is only to be found in
acting conformably to the purpose of our
existence, and in treading in those paths
of truth and simplicity, which nature has
pointed out,
*
*
*
*
*
*
*
*
*
*
*
*
*
*
*
*
*
*
Here my ever revered instructor ended
his welcome lessons.-I could have spent a
life in hearing him; and thereby should
have found that happiness, which he taught
me how to obtain,.
Two ends are answered by thus commit.ting his precepts to writing; which I have
done without much difficulty, as they are
yet fresh upon my memory.-The pen is an
memorialist; and, while I am
writing them for you, I establish them
more securely in my own mind,-

excellent

13

Let me now turn to your last dear
letter which is not yet three days old,
though so much has been written since I
received it.
Alas, my Constantia! (I address you as
my heart suggests) this delightful intercourse may notbe of any long continuance,
notwithstanding your kind and tender soli.
citude, that our friendship may not be in.
terrupted.
The fathers of Constantia and of Theo.
dosius, though their situation in some
measure draws them into a specious interchange of civilities, are of tempers and
sentiments so totally different, that whenever they meet, methinks I can discover in
each, a stifled contempt of the other. This
gives me inexpressible mortification, as I
am sensible that this contempt in both,
arises from motives equally insignificant;
the one valuing himself on the superiority
of his fortune, the other on the advantages
of his birth.
Mistaken men!-What are the distinctions that place one man above another Not wealth, or titles certainly.-Genius,
wisdom and virtue alone, have this distin.
guishing power; for these alone are capable of enlarging and ennobling the mind,
and of exalting the human capacity as high
as it will go.
How long this smothered contempt will
be suppressed by politeness, I tremble to
think.-Upon the least failure of respect
in either party, it will burst into a storm
-and-ah !-then, my fair friend !-then,
farewell this dear and happy intercourse of
letters !-Farewell the delightful freedom
of our morning conversations !-The sweet
sedour at noon-

'Sotto

le fresche fronde
D
o fef go
Del fresco faggio
-'
and the walk at evening through breathing
beanfields.-Ah ! enchanting walks, Constantia l when Fancy, heightened by the
surrounding beauties of nature, gave to all
our discourse the happiest enthusiasm !
Should I not tremble, even at the possi..
bility of losing a happiness like this ?
-But let us not afflict ourselves with
distant evils! (0 that they were far dis.
tant !) I will think no longer of them, but
quitting those tender anxious thoughts,
which the beginning of your kind letter
suggested, will proceed to that part of it,
where you obligingly propose a question,
and call upon me for an answer.
I am, indeed, of opinion, that the pro.
fessors of religion hurt its interests by pur
suing them too closely; particularly, when
they make a merit of unnatural and unne.
cessary severities. Yet this unfortunate
doctrine has thrown its galling weight on
the easy yoke of Christianity, almost ever
since its publication.-The fathers, those
fathers in whom the church has placed
such an implicit confidence, gave to that
religion, which was meant to enlarge and
humanize the mind, the meanest and
most contracted spirit and principles-.

14

THEODOSIUS AND CONSTANTIA.

Some disgraced it by the vilest quibbles *
and misquotations ; others loaded it with the
most superfluous severities, forbidding the
use of natural and lawful pleasures ;.nay one $ even goes so far, as to declare,
.that the Patriarch was deemed worthy of a
heavenly vision, only because he laid his
head upon the hard pillow of a stone, and
what he did from necessity, advises us to do
by choice.-One § has fallen into the most
idle and absurd spirit of allegorizing the
plainest literal narratives, facts, and precepts; another, I with equal absurdity,
adheres so closely to the letter, that he tells
us the devil invented buskins to give God
the lie, because it is said, that a man cannot
add one cubit to his stature. In short, my
friend, these lights of the church were, in
general, the most miserable fanatics, igno.
rant, puerile, and cruel.-No wonder,
therefore, if those who consider them as
guides, should tread in their steps.-No
wonder if they should cherish ignorance,
folly, fanaticism, and every ridiculous effect
of blind and superstitious zeal
Undoubtedly, my fair Reasoner, these
misguided severities are ruinous to the real
interests of religion; and its professors, as
you observe, have certainly hurt those in.
terests by pursuing them too closely.
Slavish and broken spirits may thus, indeed, be imposed upon ;--but whereis that
Free-willoffering, that rational and liberal
worship, which founded in an intelligent
faith and gratitude, does real honour to the
Deity ?-Such a worship can never be paid,
till the mind, rescued from the tyranny of
an imposed belief, acquires the privilege of
thinking and concluding for itself.
It would, therefore, be for the real interest of religion (if that interest may be allowed to consist in the promotion of a rational worship, and an intelligent faith)
that the mind should be at large; and
Father M - would by no means lose his
account in it with regard to your piety;
though he should, as you say, give you a
little respite, and suffer you to diversify
your reading and your studies: For, what
you observe is certainly just; and you
would not only return to the attentions of

religion with greater alacrity; but by en.

larging your moral and natural knowledge,

in that wish, I should have very little inclination to be satisfied; for, believe .Ae, I
had rather stand in any other relation to
you.-In one respect, however, I lhoiLd be
gratified by this appointment.-I should
learn the state of your heart; and be
assured I would govern it with absolute
sway,-that should be a circumstance wor.
thy my ambition.-Adieu ! my amiable
friend, and remember that if ever I am
honoured with the abovementioned ap.
pointment, I will make it my question,
whether you were sincere when you ex.
pressed that wish.
THEODOSIUS.

LETTER IX.
CONSTANTIATO THODOSIUS.

I HAvE a thousand things to say; but
where shall I begin, where end ?My
heart dies within me, when I think of some
passages in your last-what dreadful spirits
of misfortune have you conjured up ! lay
them; for heaven's sake lay them again, if
you have any regard for my peace or happiness.-Shall I tell you that the enjoyment
of your friendship is very essential to both?
Why should I not tell you so ? Surely
silence on such a subject would be a kind of
disingenuity!
This free and candid acknowledgment is
the only return I am able to make, for all
that industry of kindness I have experienced from Theodosius.-Poor and inadequate is the reward, but what can 1 do
more ? Is it in my power to return those
lessons in kind, by which I have been so
much delighted,-1 hope, profited ?Exalted Moralist! amiable and excellent
Philosopher ! what a loss would Constantia suffer, if deprived of your friendship!
To you she owes every valuable sentiment,
and almost all the little knowledgeshe can
boast ;-whatever, in your kindness, you
are pleased to distinguish with praise; all
all is yours:
Onde s' alcun bel frutto
Nascedi me; da voi vien prima i seine.
Jo per me son quasi n terreno asciutto,

4

you would acquire new and noblei princi.
Cstta da voi ; e'l pregio vostro tutto.
pies of devotion, from beholding the wis. How infintely am I obliged to you for
dom and benevolence of your Creator, communicating eso minutely your converdisplayed throughout the moral and the na- sation with the excellent Fenelon ! every
But whether you can obtain this indul word of that prelate deserves to be written
gence from your confessor or not, you will in l
What
sublime phot
quleans ee
thrislethte ot osny striking lineaments of human
quisitorial eye; otherwise the fate not only human manners, appear in all nature, and
his works !
the letter itself, but of the writer, may
But I am most charmed with the veneie smiledhat dubious.
rable man when he explains and enforces
sinted at your wish, that I were ap. his precept of 'living agreeably to Nature.'
te your confessor in the room of -I felt the truth of his observations with.
Father M. If I thought you sincere out the aid of experience.-And shall I

*See Justin Martyr's ridiculous apologies for
cross.

%be

AthClenagras, Jerom, Cyprian, &c.
Origen.

' ertullian.

appear vain, when I tell you that I have

always

retained certain sentiments, that

were of a colour with those of your noble

friend ?-I have always thought that not
only the moral, but the religious happiness

THEODOSIUS AND CONSTANTIA.

1

of human life was best cultivated by that often brought before me; but, while thi
simplicity of manners and desires, which delightful correspondence lasts, I will sit
would always attend the love and pursuit down, with security, to enjoy the sweets of
of nature. Admire with me the following it.
passage, which describes the happiness of
Nothing could be more nobly conceived,
the man who leads such a life:
than the sentiments of uniting the idea of
a God with truth and simplicity.-To deify
E'1 dubbio, e' forse, el come, el perchd, rio,
Nol posson far, che non istk fra loro;
E cl peroi s lice iddio lega,
col

I think the sentiment, in the third-quoted
verse, of uniting the idea of a God with
truth and simplicity, remarkably beautiful.
You see I have already profited by the
cademician's letter, and have not neglected the amusements of poetry and the
Belles Lettres.-I am willing to ascribe to
this elegant course of reading, still greater
advantages than he has allowed it, and am
of opinion, that the best philosophy and
morality, is to be found in theworks of the
poets; for with regard to philosophy, I
would gladly be of opinion with the Eng
lish poet, where he says,
'How charming is divine philosophy!
Not harsh and crabbed, as dull fools suppose,
But musical as is aollo'a lute !

I would willingly p rsuade myself, that the
best poets are capable of instructing us in
every part of useful knowledge; for I find
a charm in their works, superior to the
pleasure any other mode of writing affords
Whether it is the power of harmony, or
is the power of harmony
it
imagination, that thus leads me captive, I
ar at a loss to know; whether it is the egace of thought, the tenderness, or the
gentility peculiar to poetry, that delights
me most, I am unable to determine; but
all together give me the most exquisite, the
most refined entertainment.-I wonder not
that honours, next to divine, have always
been paid to poets; and that those heavenfavoured geniuses, have ever been esteemed
superior to the rest of mankind. For my
own part; if I should bring an offering to
the shrine of any human being, it should
be to that of a poet.
Adieu I
CONsTANrIA.

LETTER X.
THEODOSiUS CONSTANTIA.
TO

1ns.
approbation of Constantia is more
than the reward of worlds, and her favour

and adore those amiable virtues, is certainly
a very pardonable species of idolatry-if,

indeed, it can be called idolatry; for we,
certainly, worship the Supreme Perfection,
while we worship his attributes, as it is
only in those we can form any idea of hi.
And yet it was from this source that ido
latry, with all its troublesome and perni
cious consequences, was derived of old.
When the attributes of the universal Being
were personified and exhibited by figures,
the multitude, never capable of abstracted
thinking, numbered so many gods.
The sentiment of your poet has, nevertheles, great metaphorical propriety;when divine honours are paid to truth and
simplicity, much, certainly, is done for the
service of virtue.
As you are professedly an admirer of
simple nature, I will venture to send you a
poem, which, on that account, 1 hope will
be recommended by the subject-At least
I am sure, it has nothing else to recommend it; and let that declaration convince
you,
bat
Ihave
not the ambition to aspire
to the name andpdigitya
hope that you will bring an offer g to my
shrine.
shrine.
Written in a Cottage-garden, at a Village
LoraWhether n occasioned by a tradition
concerning a Tree of Rosemary
concern
of
y.
ArBUSUM eOQUrT
a.
0 thou whom Love and Fancy lead
To wander near this woodland hill,
If ever music smooth'd thy quill,
Or pity waked thy gentle reed,
Repose beneath my humble tree,
If thou leov'st Simplicity.
Stranger, if thy lot is laid,
In toilsome scenes of busy life;
Full sorely may'st thou rue the strife,
Of weary passions ill-repaid.
In a garden live like me,
If thou lov'st Simplicity.
Flowers have sprung for many a year
O'er the village-maiden's grave,
That, one memorial-sprig to save,
Bore it from a sister's bier :
And homeward-walking, wept o'er me
The true tears of Simplicity.

more valuable. The utmost of my ambi- And soon, her cottage-window near
tion has ever been to serve and oblige her,
With care my slender stem she placed;
but why will she ascribe to those services,
And fondly thus her grief embraced,
to those poor endeavours to please, more And cherish'd sacsremembrance dear :
merit than they can possibly have a claim
For love sincere, and friendship free
to ? Yet it is no wonder if Constantia, who
Are children of Simplicity.
possesses every virtue in the highest degree,
should carry ner gratitude to excess.
I When past was many a painful day,
I will not anticipate those evils which my
Slow-pacing o'er the village.green,
fears, possibly too industrious, have so
In white were all its maidens seen,

16

THEODOSIUS AN D CONSTANTIA.

And bore my guardian friend away.
And wet was every eye to see
The grave of sweet Simplicity !
One generous swain her heart approved,
A youth, whose fond and faithful breast
With many an artless sigh confess'd,
In nature's language, that he loved,
But, stranger, 'tis no tale for thee,
Unless thou lov'st Simplicity.
He died-and soon her lip was cold,
And soon her rosy cheek was pale;
The village wept to hear the tale,
When for both the slow bell toll'dBeneath yon flowery turf they lie,
The lovers of Simplicity.

more instance of your kindnes s, in the execution of your promise.
Adieu !
CONSTANTI.
LETTER XII.
THEODOSIUS TO CONSTANTIA.

I HAVE made haste to oblige you; therefore you must be as ready to excuse, as I
have been to obey.
THE PASTORAL PART OF MILTON'S
EPITAPHIUM DAMONIS.

Yet one boon have I to crave ;
Stranger, if thy pity bleed,
Wilt thou do one tender deed,
And strew my pale flowers o'er their grave?
So lightly lie the turf on thee,
Because thou lov'st Simplicity!

The strains that died in Arethusa's shades;
Tuned towild sorrow her mournful shore,
on
When Daphnis Hyas, Bion breath'd no more!
Thames' vocal
wave should every noteprolong,
And all his villas learn the Doric song.

There is such a pleasure in the indulgence of tender melancholy and pity; that
lest I should deprive you of it, I will add
no more than

How Thyrsis mourn'd his long-loved Damon
dead !
What sighs he utter'd, and what tears shedhe
Ye dim retreats, ye wandering fountains know;
Ye desert-wilds borewitness tohis woe :
Where oft grief he pass'd the tedious day,
in
Or lonely languish'd the long night away.

Ie
The flowery branch of Rosemary,
that accompanies this, was gathered from
the same tree.

LETTER XI.
CONSTANTIA TO THEODOSIUS.
You must be sensible that you could not
oblige me more than by favouring me with
any of your poetical productions-Your
Village-maid is a picture of rural Simplicity; as such I shall preserve it, together with the flowery branch of Rosemary,
that accompanied it, for the sake of the
author.
Your last favour reminds me of another,
which you some time ago promised, but
have now, perhaps, forgot.-You praised
the Latin verses of the celebrated English
poet we have so often admired, and called
him the best writer in that language since
the age of Constantine. When I complained that I was unable to read him in
that language, you kindly promised me a
translation of one of his finest Latin poems,
which, 1 think, you called a Pastoral Elegy
on the death of one of his friends, whom
he expected to have embraced on his return from abroad, but found that he had
taken his journey to that distant country,
--from whose bourn
No traveller returns---Such a subject is capable of great tender.
ness ; and, at the hands of Milton, it could
not fail of finding it. Let me have one

0 ox themusic ofHimeria's maids !

Twice did the fields their blooming honoum
bear ;
And Autumn twice resign thegolden ear,
Unconscious. hisloss, while Thyrsis staid
of
To woo sweet fancy in the Tuscan shade.
Crown'dwith her favour, when he sought again
Hisflock
forsaken, and his nativeplain ;
When tohis old Elm'swonted shade return'dThen-then he miss'd hisparted friend-and
mourn'd.
And go, he cryd, my tender
lambs adieu!
Your wretchei master has no time for
you.
Yet are there
powers divine in earth or sky?
Gods can they be who destined thee todie ?
And shalt thoumix with shades ofvulgar name
Lostthy fair honours, foegot thy fame
and
No lie, God whose golden wand restrains
the
The pale-eyed people o the gloomy plains,
Of Damon'sfate shall thus regardless be,
Or suffer
vulgar shades toherd with thee.
Then go, he cry'd, &c.
Yet while one strain my trembling tongue
may try,
Not unlamented, Shepherd, shalt thoudie.
Long in these fields thy fame shall flourish fair,
And Daphnis only greater honoursshare;
To Daphnis only purer vowsbe paid,
While Pan, or Pales, loves the village-shade.
If Truth or Science may survive the grave,
Or,what is more, a pet's friendship save.
Then, go,&c.
These, these, are thine: forme what hopesremain !
Save of long sorrow, of anguish vain,
and
For who,still faithful tomy side, shall go,
Like thee, through regions clad with chilling
snow?
Like thee, the rage offiery
summers bear,
When nature shrinks beneath the burning air?
The lurking dangers of the chase essay,
Or soothe with song, various tale the day?
and
Then go, &c.
To whom shall I my hopes
and fears
impart?
Or trust the cares and follies of my heart ?
Whose gentle counsels put those cares to flight?
Whose cheerfiul converse
cheat the tedious night ?
The social
hearth when Autumn'streasures store,
Chill blow the winds without, and through the
k elm roar.

Then

THEODOSIUS At ND CONSTANTIA.
When She fierce suns of summer noos invade,
And Pan reposes in the greea-wood ade,
The shepherds hide, the nymphs plunge dawn the
deepl[sleep.
And waves the hedge-row o'er the plowman's
Ah l who shall charm with such address refined,
Such Attic wit, and elegance of mind?
Then go, &c.
las P now lonely round my fields I sissy
And lonely seek the pasture's wonted way.
Or in some dim vale's mournful shade cepose
There pensive wait the weary day's slow close,
While showers descend, the gloomy tempest raves,
And o'er my head the straggling twilight waves.
Then go, &c.
Where once fair harvest cloth'd my cultured
plain,
Now weeds obscene and vexing brambles reign
The groves of myrtle, and the clustering vine
Deliht
no more is caise.
My
no longer finds master's care
E'en piteous as thcy gaze with looks of dumb
despair.
Then go, &c.

flocks

Thy hazel, Tyt'rus, has no charms far me;
Nor yet thy wild asi, loved Alphesibee.
No more shall Fancy weave her coral dream,
ByEgon's willow, or Amyta's stream,
The trembling leavea, the fountain's cool serene,
The murmuring zephyr, and the mossy green
These smile unseen, and those unheeded play,
I cut my shrubs, and heedless walk'd away.
Then go, &c.

17

Too great a rice to mark in Tiber's gloom
The mournful image of departed Rome
Nay, yet immortal, could she beast
The glories of her universal reigna
And all that Mare left his fields to see,
Too great the purchase to abandon thee !
To leave thee ice lad ao loager seen!
Bid mountains rio, and oceans rail between!Ah ! not embrace
to see Shoe die
Meet thy last
or close thy languid eye
Not one fond farewell with thy shade to sendl
Nor bid thee think of thy surviving friend l
Then go, &c.
Ye TuiL..a Shepherds, pardon me ibis
Dear to the muse, tome Soc over door! lear!
The yousth I mourn a Tuscan title bore.
See Lydian Lucca for her son deplore l
Odaysofestacy l whoa rapt I lay
Where Arno wonders down his flowery way,Pluck'd the pale violot, prossd the volvot mood
Or bade the myrtle's balmy
Delightod, hoard amidst the fragrance blood!
cual throng
Menalcas strive with Lycidas in song.
Oft would my voice She mimic strain
essay,
Nor haply all unhoedod was my lay:
For, Shepherds, yet I boast your generous mood,
The osier basket, and compacted coed.
Francino crown'd me wih a poet's fame,
And Dout taught his beechen groves my name.

thee!-not
looks,

Milton, when he wao in Italy, had the
Peculiar good fortune to find an age of
geniuses, and to be distinguished by their
favour in a very extraordinary manner.
That polish which the young mindreceives
from the elegant simplicity of the classics,
?
he enjoyed in the greatest perfection. The
considerable fund of that kind of know.
ledge, which he took with him into
Italy,
he had the happiest meana of improving
The Nymphs tao, pitous of their Shepherd's and perfecting in those inspiring scenes,
where the
Came, the sad cause solicitous to know.
writers of Latium
[woe,
Is this the port of jocund youth, they cry
drew their breath-Those icenes afforded
the beat comment on the works of the RoGay smiles and lave on that soft season wait;
man classics, and Milton showed in all his
Me's twice a wretch whom beautywounds soo
Latin poems that he tasted their beautiea
late.*
Then go, &c.
in the moat refined degree.
The friend he bewails in the charming
One gentle tear the British Chlotls gave,
Chloris the grace of Maldon's purple wave-.
'poem, of which I ave made these humble
In vain-my grief no soothing words disarm,
efforts to show you the beauties, was the
Nor future hopes, nor present good can charm.
companion of his early years ; and it is no
Then go, &c.
wonder that he lamento him with iuch pa,
The happier flocks one social spirit move,
thetsc tenderness : for friendships of that
The same their sport, their pastures and their
kind, which are nursed under the sunshine
loves.
of young enthusiasm, are always the most
Their hearts to ne poculiar objecttend,
None knows a favourite, or selects a friend.
vigorous-Are they not, my Constantia ?
So herd the various natives of the main,
-1 feel they are; for I am, &c.
And Proteus drives in crowds his scaly
Mopsus, who knows what fates the stars dispense,
And Solves the grove's wild warblings into sense.
This Mopsus mark'd-.what thus thy spleen con
move
Some baleful planet, or some hopeless love?
The star of Saturn oft annoys the swain,
[reign
And in the dull, cold breast, long hoids his leaden
Then go, &c.

finest

That

look

disgusted,

and

that

oncs

train.
The leather'dsarrow find easier fates;
tribes too
an
The meanest

TasaoDOSIUs.

still enjoys his mate;
And when by chance, or wearinagage she dims,
The transient loss a secsnd choice suppies.
Mao, haplemsman, for ever doom'd to know
The dire vexations that from discord flow,
In all the countless numbers of his bind,
Can ucarceiy moot with one congenial mind.
haply found, Death wsngs the faial dart,
The tender union breaks, and breaks his heart.
Then go, &c.

If

Ah melI what errsr tempted me ts go
O'er foreign mountains and through Alpine snow ?
* Milton seems tohave borrowed this sentiment
from Gaurini,:
Cho se t' assale a ls canuta elate
Amoroso talento,

Htavrai
doppso
tormento,

volmsi,

E di quel, ehe potendo non
Ei di quel, the volendo no potrai.

first

y

LETTER XIII.
CONSTANSTIATHstODOSIUus
TO
I FLEW with your letter to our favourite
alcove ; and there with whatcpleasure, with

1The

Tuscans were a brooch of
that emigrated into Europe not many ShePelasgi
years after
the dispersion. Some

of thsem machod
far as Lydia, and from thence detached by land as
a colony
under the conduct of Tyrsenos as Italy.
tWhen Miltoas was in Italy, Carlo Dati wan
professor of philosophy at Florence-A liberal
fciendlto men of genius ad learning, as well foreigners as hss osess countrymen.-..He wrote
panegyric and some poems on Lewis XIV. besides

a

uther tcAt

18.

THEODOSIlJS AND CONSTANTIA

what avidity I perused it, Theodosius need
not be told.
I verily believe, that I am better pleased
to be entertained than to be instructed ;
for I scarce ever received so much pleasure from a letter of yours, as your last
afforded me-yet what can be the reason?
It is not, certainly, that I am jealous
of your instructive letters as giving you
a superiority-I cannot charge myself
with so much pride.-Nay, were I not sensible of that superiority, I must be stupid
indeed;-thus, however, I flatter myself
on my penetration in being able to distinguish it, and on my modesty in being
satisfied with it; and thus, like many
other good people, I am vain of being free
from vanity.
But all the instructions of my amiable
Philosopher have been seasoned with so
much politeness, or conveyed in such an
indirect manner, that while I had all the
opportunity of profiting by them, I could
hardly ever discern that they were intended
for my use-If then your last letter pleased
me more than any other, it is because I am
idle, and voluptuous, and take more pleasure in poetry than in philosophy.
Yet the genius of Milton had such a
mnoral turn, that he seldom wrote poetry
without writing philosophy; and even the
pastoral you have so obligingly translated,
is not, I find, without something of it.
How beautifully does he bewail the lost
advantages of friendship!

contribute to make you, what you have so
often made me, vain; and thus, at least,

you must acknowledge, that I outdo you
in generosity.
I am not displeased with your observation, that young friendships are the most
tender-no doubt they are-for the friendships, like all other pursuits and attachments of youth, have novelty to recom.
mend them, passions to enliven, and en.
thusiasm to cherish them.-But ah ! my
friend! (for once I will say, my Theodosius!) when novelty is no more; when
the passions subside, and enthusiasm vanishes like a dream; will not the friendships, will not the attachments, that these
principles produced, vanish with them?-I
will not fear it, though it should be true:

6

'
non prudenza
Ma follia de mortali
L' arte crudel di presagirsi I mali.

One thing, however, I will freely acknow.
ledge, or rather boast of, that my friendship for Theodosius is exclusively founded on esteem. For this reason, I flatter
myself, that it will last in all its present
cordiality-why should it not? It has nothing to lose, when the charm of novelty is
lost.-Its existence by no means depends
upon the passions; it has, therefore, no.
thing to apprehend when they languish,
or decline.-It derives not its support from
enthusiasm, and, consequently, cannot
suffer, when enthusiasm dies away.
While thus I comfort, I hope I do not
deceive myself.-But, should even that be
' To whom shall 1 my hopes and fears impart,
Or trust the cares and follies of my heart
the case, let your sagacity for once give way
to your compassion, and do not undeceive
And how truly does he lament that man, me.-This is, perhaps, the only instance in
which I could be satisfied with myself for
' In all the countless numbers of his kind,
declining the report of truth.
Can rarely meet with one congenial mind
Observe, however, that I expect you
felt the force of this will, with the utmost candour and ingeYoung as I am, I have
truth, and have made many melancholy nuity, resolve some parts of my doubts,
reflections upon it, after the painful, ridi- and tell me freely, whether those young
culous, trifling, and impertinent visits I friendships which are heightenedby novelhave been obliged to pay and receive from ty, by the passions and enthusiasm, will
not inevitably perish with those sources
the sillier part of my sex. Horrid tyranny
of fashion that imposes this upon us ! that support them.
You see I have been at pains to induce
What right can an equality, or a superiority of fortune give one woman to rob you to declare your sentiments on this subanother of her time, sense, and patience? I ject ; since I have removed the principal
say her Sense; for the conversation of fools objection that might have occurred to you,
leaves a tincture of folly upon us.-What by declaring that my friendship for you
title has dress or figure to lay a tax upon us cannot be affected by the argument.
Adieu!
for admiration? Do not they who expect
CONsTANTIA.
this, insult our understanding ? And are
not those who pay it, the slaves of folly? O
that the shackles of custom were once broken, and that we might choose our society
LETTER XIV.
out of either sex without censure or inconvenience!
TO CONSTANTIA.
THEODOSIUS
Just before I received your letter, I was
delivered from the most despicable and im.
there is nothing in which Conpertinent set of visitors that ever disgraced THOUGn
the name of good company.-To me such stantia has not a right to command liaher
visits are always visitations.-To the above-, friend, and though, in every thing, it is his
mentioned deliverance, you may, if you pride and pleasure to obey her; yet he wv:
please, impute some degree of that extra- own, that he goes unwillingly about thei
ordinary pleasure I ascribed to the perusal task she has appointed him.of your letter.-This I say, lest I shouldd
Ah! my dear, my amiable moralist I:

THEODOSIUS AN D CONSTANTIA.
s frequently the happiness of man to shut
his eyes against the infirmities of his nature !-In those circumstances, where the
knowledge of his weakness cannot save him
from some real evil, that knowledge is of
less value than ignorance.
The benevolent purposes of Providence
have concealed the future from us, that we
may not be interrupted in the enjoyment of
the present; and it is, in many cases,
necessary to our happiness, that we should
imitate this economy of the Supreme Wisdom, and embrace those innocent pleasures, which the several periods of life may
afford us, without enquiring too officiously
into their causes or events, and without
being too solicitous about their duration.
Many, possibly, of our pleasures, many,
I am sure, of our amusements, spring from
such sources, as, upon enquiry, would be
found to do little honour to a creature distinguished by reason. Their tendency, at
the same time, is frequently as insignificant
as their cause, and both are unworthy of a
serious enquiry.
There are, indeed, enjoyments of a higher nature that may better deserve our
attention; and yet, to enquire into the probability of their duration, might contribute
very little to our happiness.Such, in particular, are the connections
of friendship.-These are the property of
man, and must, therefore be frail, changeable and uncertain like himself. It must,
consequently, be for his ease to sit down
mnapprehensive to er3 y them, without
meditating on all the possible variety of
evils, to which they must be exposed, from
a change of sentiments and inclinations,
and from the several contingencies of
chance and time.
It is into the fate of young friendships,
iny Constantia, that you would lead my enquiries. These, indeed, are not the least
unworthy of our attention; for youth is
the season both of friendship and of virtue.
-If to a disposition naturally not unsociable, we have added the advantages of a
liberal education, we come into the business and society of life, in general, better
and happier creatures than we are when
we leave it.
We step into the world with liberal sentiments and benevolent affections, but the
experimental knowledge of men contracts
the former and starves the latter.-Insomuch that he must be possessed of a disposition more than ordinarily humane, who
does not in some degree become a misanthropist before he dies.-I may go further,
and add, that he must have uncommon
Virtue and greatness of mind, who, with
unblemished manners, and uncontracted
sentiments, can sail with such a corrupted
crew down the current of life.
Man is, in spite of all his reason, an imitative creature, and what he has been long
accustomed to observe in others, he will,
with difficulty, forbear to admit in himself.
By habit we may bring ourselves to behold
deformity without disgust, and by being
11ng conversant in scenes of enmity and inm.

19

sincerity, the love of truth and humankind
will insensibly decay.
As youth, therefore, is the season of sin.
cerity and benevolence, it must, of consequence, be the most promising season of
friendship; for those virtues are its best
and surest foundation.
We love a benevolent man for our own
sakes, and a sincere man for the sake of his
sincerity.-Esteem for ever attends the
union of these;-that esteem which my
Constantia has done me the honour to ac.
knowledge as the source of her friendship
Thus, my fair Casuist, you see we have a
sufficient foundation whereon to erect an
early friendship, exclusive of novelty, the
passions, and enthusiasm; and we may justly
conclude, therefore, that such a friendship
may exist, though all such auxiliarieF
should vanish or decay.
Yet while these last, they undoubtedly
yield us a more high-set pleasure, as well
in friendship, as in every other enjoyment
Nevertheless I know not whether much
ought to be ascribed to Novelty, which, in
the cup of friendship, is, certainly, the very
worst ingredient.-Possibly it may, for a
while, give a poignancy to the taste, but
the mellowing power of Time produces a
much better and more agreeable flavour.
The prevalence and activity of the passions, keep up that lively zest, and ardour
of affection, which add to the readiness of
confidence, and are productive of a thousand agreeable sensations.
Enthusiasm has an effect on friendship
proportionable to its influence on Love.It heightens it with the glowing sentiments
of imagination, and embellishes its real advantages with the visionary charms of
Fancy, and intellectual Refinement !
Yet when these shall depart with departing youth; while sincerity and benevolence
remain, Friendship shall remain with
them.-A reflection, which affords me the
highest consolation! as I am convinced
that, in consequence of those principles,
Constantia cannot cease to be the friend of
THEODOSIUS

LETTER XV.
CONSTANTIA TO THEODOSIUS.

WHAT a letter! my friend.-If you have
drawn a true picture of human nature, and
if the knowledge of the world be really
attended with the consequences you mention, who would not live in ignorance ?Ah ! Theodosius ! what fears ! what unea.siness has your letter awakened !-Better,
indeed, my Philosopher, had you suffered
me to continue in ignorance !-Better, and
kinder, had you permitted me to enjoy my
visionary dream of the duration and improvement of human virtue !-Ah ! too
penetrating friend !-Too ingenious in the
discovery of that weakness, it would have
been happier to hide !-You were sensible
of this truth, and why would you gratify

20

THEODOSIUS AND CONSTANTIA.

my impertinent curiosity, only to make me
miserable ?-To give melancholy and mortifying ideas of that life in which my lot
has fallen !
Yet, surely, Theodosius, the sweet affections of Benevolence will not wear away
with youth.-If the commerce of the world
doth not corrupt the heart, surely, it will
still have room for so delightful a guest.-I
declare, that without one womanish fear, I
would part with my being, rather than hold
it on any other terms.
But what superfluous apprehensions do I
entertain? This dreadful shipwreck can
only happen on the tempestuous ocean of
the world-my bark, I am determined,
shall not be exposed to such 'ruin.-Safely
shall it steer into some quiet harbour, and
rest secure from storms and tempests.
Seriously and plainly, my friend, you
have given me such ideas of mixing with
the world, and of theinconveniences which
attend it, that I, who can boast no superior fortitude, conclude, it must be my
happiness to live in solitary obscurity.There I can embrace your good prelate's
precept, and live agreeably to nature.here I shall be free from the impertinence
of Folly, and the censoriousness of Envy.
-My precious hours will not be sacrificed
to triflers; I shall employ them in studies
worthy of a rational creature.
O Theodosius ! for those delightful moments that shall glide away on the halcyon-wings of Peace and Tranquillity:for those dear uninterrupted days of letters
and leisure, when the mind may riot in
intellectual festivity; and free from every
low, every vulgar and debasing care, may
acquire that dignity and knowledge, which
shall properly recommend it to some higher
state of existence!
What luxury is in the thought! even
now I anticipate the happiness I describe.
-Even now, in imagination, I enjoy those

stations, or circumstances, which we have
only contemplated at an unafecting distance; and yet, with an assurance that
does more honour to our courage than our
discretion, we venture to conclude, that
those appointments, or schemes of life to
which we are perfectly strangers, would
infallibly complete our felicity.
In themean time we never consider, that
new stations, and appointments to which
we have not been accustomed, must necessarily take us out of our usual train of
sentiments, actions, and attentions. This,
however, will make us uneasy; forchange,
as Numa observed, when he was invited to
the kingdom of Rome, is always an evil,
and we never feel it more sensibly, than in
the manner and economy of life.
With respect to your scheme of living
secluded from the world, I should have
condemned it with the short censure of a
smile, had I not paid so much deference to
your Reason and Judgment, as to conclude,
that those ought to be appealedto on every
argument that might relate to your senti.
ments and resolutions.
Will my beautiful friend forgive me,
then, if I suppose that Judgment to have
been bribed by enthusiasm, when she concluded that, by living alone, she should live
agreeably to nature?
I am sensible, Madam, that by this you
meant no more than, that such a mode of
life would exempt you from those external
temptations, those idle luxuries and follies,
which are apt to make us deviate from the
paths of Truth and Simplicity.-But did
you consider, that to live alone, is to live
contrary to nature ?-A state of solitude
is not the natural state of man.-The arguments I should make use of to prove this
are old and obvious.-That I may be less
unentertaining, therefore, while I mean to
set before you the inconveniences attending
your scheme of life, I will give you a short

in the world, pity him, pray for him, and
Thus her story is related in a manuscript,
tremble for his virtue.
still preserved among the family-papers.
Adieu! Adieu!
"Eudocia, an only daughter, was bred
CoNsTANTIA.
up under the auspices of Altheria, a lady
equally distinguished by her piety as a
--Christian, and her affection as a parent.
The temper and genius of the daughter
LETTER XVI.
were naturally warm and susceptible: The
offices and duties of religion had habitually
THEODOSIUS CONSTANTIA.
TO
inspired her with such a zealous and fer.
vent devotion, that she seemed to have no
"ENjoY thy dream, dear and amiable En- happiness, that did not flow from those
thusiast! Enjoy thy visionary scene! To exercises and attentions which religion re.
rouse thee from those delightful reveries, quired.
to break those fancy-favoured slumbers,
Her knowledge of books was little, of
would be cruel, if not impious."-Such, human nature less.
She had, notwithand so expressed, were my sentiments, on standing, conceived an infinite contempt
perusing your last dear letter.-But Ten. for that world, to which she was utterly a
derness must give place to Truth ;-at least stranger, and concluded, that to enter into
in a circumstance so important, as that of the interests and engagements of society,
laying down a plan of life.
would be a voluntary sacrifice to Vice and
There is scarce any thing in which the Folly.
mind is so apt to mistake its true interest,
Eudocia was, in natural good sense,
as in projects of future happiness.-It is beauty, and a sweetness of disposition,
impossible to know how we shall bear those equalled by few women of her time.-These

THEODOSIUS AND CONSTANTIA.
qualities engaged the affections of Alphenor, a gentleman whose genius and penetration gave him a kind of intuitive knowledge of the human heart.
He concluded, that every attempt to introduce Eudocia to the world, or to establish the social life in her good opinion
would be vain. He knew that it would be
fruitless to argue with her on the pleasures
she had never known, and the miseries she
had never experienced.-He, therefore, did
not expatiate, either on the advantages of
society, or the inconveniences of solitude;
for such had been the condition of Eudocia's life, that, as yet, she was, in a great
measure, a stranger to both.
Upon the death of her parents, which
happened before she had attained her
twenty-fifth year, her fortune and manner
of life were at her own disposal.-She now
determined to put in execution a scheme
which she had long meditated.-It was to
retire, but not into a convent. A spirit of
liberty had always saved her from that
sacrifice, however industriously, solicited by
the emissaries of the church, or encouraged
by selfish relations.
She was possessed of an estate, situated
in a very retired part of the province of
Compeigne; and there it was that she had
determined to live sequestered from the
world, with no other society than an aged
confessor, and necessary domestics.--Of tile
last she made a very few, and those
females, sufficient.
At this crisis it might have been expected, that Alphenor would have used his utmost address to dissuade her from her purpose.-By no means.-On the contrary, he
encouraged her in her resolution, applauded the piety of her purpose, and expatiated
on the happiness of solitary sanctity. He
assumed not theleast of the lover's character, but that of the religious friend.
i By this means he gained one point,
which he had used all his industry, all his
art to obtain.-He had Eudocia's permission to pay her one visit at the end of three
months after her retirement; a favour
which was allowed to none beside, either of
her friends, or acquaintance, and which
Alphenor himself, though through the
mediation of religion, had scarce address
sufficient to obtain,
Eudocia retired-She approached the
confines of her estate with raptures, and
paid a kind of idolatrous worship to the
venerable groves that surrounded her habitation.
' Hail,' she cried, ' ye innocent and happy
foresters! ye shall at once be the witnesses
and the guardians of my repose.-Enjoy
your vegetable existence, secure from the
cruelties and the ravages of man ;-I have
fled from the evils of society, to enjoy
peace and innocence with you-my undesigning friends ! my blarnelesscompanions !
often shall I associate with you, and repose
under the kind protection of your shade.'
With the same kind of enthusiastic pleasure she walked through the several apartments of her house, consecrating each with
a kind of petitionary ejaculation,

21

For the first week of her retirement, she
found sufficient employment in the econo.
my of her family, and the distribution of
their several offices to her domestics--The
second she devoted wholly to religious exercises and the raptures of devotion.
*
*

*
*

*

*

I have been interrupted, and you will not
at present be troubled with any further ac.
count of my pious ancestor.
Adieu!
THEODOSIUS.

LETTER XVII
THEODOSIUSTO CONSTANTIA.

a* BUT whatever is rapturous cannot last long. Those exercises that lift the
mind above its usual pitch, if too frequently, or too long indulged, will, at length,
either totally destroy it, or deprive it of
that sobriety, which is necessary for the
preservation of its due poise.
Nature seems, in kindness, to have
guarded us against the inconveniencesithat
might arise from hence, by shortening the
influence of joy, by inclining us to variety,
and by giving the property, either of indifference, or disgust to every object that
has been too long, or too assiduously pursued, with whatever avidity it might have
been embraced at first.
That little society to which Eudocia had
hitherto been accustomed, was a necessary
relief from the assiduities of religious studies and exercises; and, far from being
any prejudice, was, in reality, favourable
to the interests of religion.-It is certain,
however, that she was of a different opinion, upon her first seclusion from the
world; but many weeks had not passed,
before she felt the inconveniences of her
mistake, if she was unwilling to perceive
the mistake itself.
The exercises of devotion, by being too
frequently repeated, became languid and
unaffecting: Her mind, having been accustomed to communication, shrunk under
the weight of its own sentiments; and
every succeeding day approached less welcome, and more feared than the former.
What should she do? Should she return
to that world she had forsaken and despised ? But a sense of shame and pride rose
in opposition to that thought, and strangled
it in its birth.
In this dissatisfied and dejected state, she
recollected the appointment of Alphenor's
visit-with joy she recollected it, and re.
membered with a blush, the difficulties she
had started against it.
' How,' said she, 'shall I conceal that
pleasure which I cannot but feel at the
sight of Alphenor ? If I express my real
sentiments, he will have reason to think his
presence of some consequence to my hap.
piness; and if I receive his visit with an in.
difference equal to that with which I se.

22

THEODOSIUS AND CONSTANTIA.

ceived the proposal of it, I shall do violence to that candour and sincerity of
heart, which cannot bear even the shadow
of dissimulation.-In the former case, I
should appear a weak and unsteady creature to Alphenor.-In the latter, I should
become insupportable to myself.'
While she was thus meditating, in what
manner she should receive her friend, the
time appointed for his visit was at hand.But Alphenor did not appear.-Master of
every key to the human heart, he knew
that if, by delaying his visit to Eudocia, he
gave it the appearance of uncertainty, that
uncertainty would probably create an anxiety on her part, which might not be unfavourable to his design.
This had the desired effect : day after
day passed away in the same solitary
languor, and Eudocia concluded, that the
many objections she had made to Alphenor's visit had determined him at last, to
think of it no more.-This reflection made
her miserable, and she now wished for nothing so ardently, as that the presence of
her friend would prove those apprehensions
vain.
At length he came.-A tear fell from
the eye of Eudocia, when she received
him; he observed it, and knew that he
had now nothing more to do, than to reconoile her to herself, and to enable her to
acknowledge her mistake without shame or
confusion.
Those wants that invention or eloquence
could supply never distressed him long.
' I hope, Madam,' said he, 'that a life
of solitude has been more comfortable to
you than it has been to me.'-' How,'
cried Eudocia, 'has Alphenor been a Solitaire ?'
' Such, Madam, I have been ever since I
lost the happiness of Eudocia's conversation.-It was always my ambition to imitate her.-Shall she, said I, shall a woman
have fortitude to forsake the world, and
retire to solitude, to practise the sublime
duties of religion; and shall I not profit by
the examples of that virtue I cannot but
praise ?-But alas, Madam! alas, Eudocia !
shall I confess to you-'
' What would Alphenor confess?' ' That
either the miseries and the inconveniences of absolute solitude must be very
great, or that I must have an uncommon
and disgraceful weakness of mind; for the
time I have thus devoted, I have not spent
in happiness, but in languor and discontent.'
Eudocia shed another tear.
kind,' said Alphenor, 'thus to pity
the unhappiness of your friend !'
' I cannot,' replied Eudocia, ' accept of
a compliment I do not deserve. The tear
you observed had something selfish in it.Alphenor can have no weakness, that is
not the weakness of human nature; and,
could it be any satisfaction to him toknow,
that his friend has been as miserable in a
state of solitude as himself, his own ingenuous confession might countenance her in
acknowledeing it.'

'How

*
*
*
,
For a woman of my Constantia's penntration, it would be needless to transcribe
any more of the above narrative; and it
will be sufficient to inform her, that from
the union of Alphenor and Eudocia, in a
distant descent, came
THEODOSIUS.

LETTER XVIII.
CONSTANTIA TO

THEODOSIUS.

OH ! Theodosius ! - my guide ! - my
friend!-my instructor! alas !-no more!The tear swims in my eyemy heart
swells; and my hand trembles while I tell
you, that you are-banished for ever from
this place, and that I am forbidden to see
you, or hear from you more.
What, what shall I do ? nothing ever can
repair this cruel loss-the loss of a wise,
a learned, and a virtuous friend ! What
has the world of equal worth !-Deprived,
for ever deprived of that presence, which
enlivened with invariable cheerfulness and
sensibility !-of that conversation which
never failed to make the mind richer, the
heart happier-and (O cruel extension of
resentment !) of that precious, that instructive correspondence, which, as it afforded me the best means of cultivating
and improving my mind, ought to have
been considered with gratitude by the very
person who has forbidden it.
But of whom, or of what do I presume
to complain? Duty restrains the remonstrances of grief and the expostulations of
sorrow.-You are not now ignorant, that
the quarrel you dreaded, has actually
happened, with the bitterest recriminations.
Then, farewell, my best, and most valuable friend !-for ever to be remembered!for ever to be regretted !-Accept of all I
can return for your invariable, your industrious kindness!-Most respected of men'!
-most esteemed of friends !-Accept the
gratitude of a tear, and think of
CONSTANTIA.
.-...
LETTERX 1IX.
TO THEODOSIUS.

From an unknowun hand.
THE writer of this letter is not a stranger
to the mutual regard of Theodosius and
Constantia.From sure authority he
knows, that the hand of that lady is, by the
appointment of her father, in which, it
seems, she has acquiesced, within two days
to be given to another. Theodosius will
make what use he thinks proper of this in.
formation, and conclude that he receives it
from
A FRIENI

THEODOSIUS

AND CONSTANTIA.

23

fession, shook your frame? The reflection
of what you must have endured for me,
THEODOSIUS
TO CONSTANTIA.
as it then wrung my soul with anguish,
yet clouds it with sorrow, and has power
T'E thought of my Constantia, which has i to disturb the serenity of a mind, which
for some time been my only happiness, is I trust hath been visited by the peace of
now become a greater torment to me than God.
I am able to bear.-Must I then live to see j But I should be still more disconsolate,
you another's ?-Death is in the thought; were I not well assured that your present
and, indeed, life itself is now become a happiness will be in proportion to your
burden to me.--May you long be happy in former sufferings, and that the difficult
the world, but forget that there was ever ways through which you walked have at
such a man in it as
last conveyed you to the mansions or
THEODOSIUS. peace.
Such, Constantia, is the lot of human
life. The road to happiness is seldom
"'
strewed with flowers, nor perhaps ought it
XXI.
LETTER
to be so; as we should, in that case, be inTHEODOSIUSTO CONSTANTIA.
clined to take our passage for our port, and
which a mind in troublemakes neghiletwe enjoyed the manna, we might
TIlE efforts
I m, however, of a different opinion
to regain its lost peace, like those glances
of the sun that struggle through opposing from most men with regard to moral and
clouds, are delightful to all beholders. natural evils. They derive them from the
When my Constantia rose above that gloom hand of providence, and charge the coilof sorrow, which her too apprehensive sequences of human passions, follies, and
heart had thrown around her; when I saw vices, upon the divine administration.
her eye brighten, and her elegant but de- Would this be proper for a person wh- is
jected features assume the beautiful form labouring under diseases that are the natuin which nature had moulded them, I ral and inevitable effects of intemperance?
should have felt the pleasure of a Christian, Can those pains which the sufferer has conhad I not once been Theodosius.
sciously and voluntarily brought upon himAmiable mourner! Let us now forget self be deemed the visitation of God'?
the name which you have so long remem Would not this be 'to charge God foolishbered with anguish, and which you could ly?' And, if this were admitted, with
not pronounce without trembling, when what propriety could we say of that divine
you affectingly told Theodosius that you Being, that 'He does not willingly afflict
believed him to be no more. I wept, my his creatures?' With regard to this docConstantia, but my concern arose not from trine, my Constantia, it is of consequence
a sense of your guilt, but of your suffer- that you should be rightly informed, beings. Those tears, indeed, fell from the cause 'from mistaken apprehensions of
eyes of Theodosius, and in them the Con- Providence proceed almost all the errors of
fessor had no part. The powers of me- religious faith.'s But most dangerous to
mary and reflection were, in one moment, ourselves, and most injurious to the Deity,
presented with every scene of distress and are those opinions which magnify his destenderness which our unhappy loves had potism at the expense of his benevolence.
produced. And when I consider myself as Hearken not to such opinions, Constantia :
the unfortunate cause of your long, your God cannot be the minister of evil.
unmerited sufferings; I felt, in one painful
Our sufferings, natural and moral, are
minute, what Constantia had endured for the consequence of that freedom of will,
years. Perhaps, too, your unequalled fide- which is the very essence of our moral
lity and unaltered love, while they flat- powers, and without which we should be
tered my heart, brought it back a moment mere machines, incapable of all virtue.
to the world.--But my guardian Spirit There are indeed some natural evils, which
whispered me that I had made a higher to incur or avoid depends not on ourselves,
choice, and reminded me that the duties I because they come not within the economy
owed you were those of a spiritual direc- of reason. But of these we partake only
tor, from whom you were to receive conso- in common with mankind ; and as in the
lation and instruction. But before I pro- dispensation of some of them we can perceed to the further discharge of those du-. ceive that Providence had wise and gr.aties, let me intreat you to forgive-forgive
ious purposes, so we may fairly infer that
me, suffering innocence, for being the un- those whose final causes we cannot apprehappy, though involuntary instrument of hend, have their origin in the same uniyour many miseries.-Five uncheerful versal Benevolence.
It is, I think, generally understood, as a
years ! my Constantia ! How has your
gentle heart supported itself during that doctrine founded upon revelation,that there
melancholy period? How has it sustained are such things as divine inflictions even in
those cruel apprehensions, which, in con- this life. No doubt there may be such, and
there may be seasons obvious to the eye of
Providence, when it is good for us to be af.
" This letter, which, with some little variations,
LETTER XX.*

is recorded

by

the Spectator, No.

concludes
164,

the Correspondence of Theodosius and Constantia,
from their first acquaintance to the departure of

ec

DD

Letters o Religions Retirement0

.

24

THEODOSIUS AND CONSTANTIA,

flicted. Wemay be summoned by calamity
from the pursuit of pleasure, and, though
we cannot perceive the hand, the writing
may be divine.
But Ibelieve that this interposition of the
supreme power is very rare. Nay I will
own to my Constantia, that my faith in this
doctrine is, at best, but diabolical ; for while
I believe, I tremble. Will God do evil that
good may come ? Is it necessary? Can
Almighty Power be limited in the use of
means ?
I will moreover warn you of the evils
that may be derived from this doctrine.
It may prompt us to vain comparisons
and uncharitable constructions: when
we behold the calamities of others, we
may be inclined to trace the finger of
God where it has not been; and when
we tacitly refer to our own condition, we
may impute our exemption from evil to
that integrity whereof we ought not to
boast.
Under the Mosaical dispensation, present inflictions were more visible because
'more necessary : for, what other restraint
was there upon the moral actions of mankind ? When the great sanctions orChristianity were set forth, those restraints be.
came inconsiderable, and were totally ab.
sorbed in the interests of the new system.
'Old things passed away; behold! All
things became new.'
But we are too apt to mix our religion,
and to incorporate the divinity of the Old
Testament with that of the New. The
moral law indeed still remains in force, because its tendency was everlasting; but
when God saw fit to enter into a newcoveaant with man, the dispensations of his
providence were altered, and made agreeable to it. Thus, though under the old law
it might be necessary for the divine power
'to chasten whom he loved,' yet that measure could be no longer expedient, when
the hopes and fears of mankind were
appealed to by the sanctions of immor.
tality.
It is of great importance to you, Constantia, to form a right idea of your Crea.tor, and to' know in whom you have believed.' To assist you in this respect, will
be one of the first endeavours of
FATHER FRANCIS.
LETTER XXII.
CONSTANTIATO THEODOSIUS.

My sorrows for Theodosius are no more;
he lives, and Constantia is happy. If you
would not have me remember my sufferings, forget them yourself; for nothing
now could make the reflection of them
painful to me, but their affecting my re..
vered Father.
Gracious Providence! And have I at
length found a father? Has heaven
granted what nature refused ? She gave
me indeed a father; but he forgot the
name; or he remembered the name and
the authority, but forgot the duties of the

alliance. Do I err:? Then instruct me,
my holy guide, instruct me to revere the
man who banished Theodosius, and imbit.
tered, without cause, the moments of her
whom he had brought into being. But I
will revere him, for he was kind at last,
and permitted me to retire to this asylum
of peace. Whatever were his motives, I
will revere him; for have I not here found
the only comfort I was capable of ? Am I
not sure that Theodosius lives? Without
that conviction (I own my weakness) I
should have been unhappy within these
holy walls. The exercises of devotion I
pursued with equal assiduity before I entered upon the conventual life; but my
prayers were the heavy sacrifices of sor.
row and contrition. I was alike a stranger
to the serenity of peace, and to the com.
fort of hope. It was not in the power of
conscious penitence to set my heart at
ease, whenever the painful thought presented itself, that my cowardly acquiescence in the will of a father had been
death to the most valuable and most amlable of men. Pitying heaven has at length
undeceived me, and at once restored to my
eyes those dear lamented fugitives, Theo.
dosius and happiness; both changed indeed, but both improved by the change.
The pleasure I enjoyed in the comrany of
the elegant and lively Theodosius, was
gay, sprightly, and animated, like himself !
With him it departed and returned; and
my heart was alternately delighted and de.
pressed. Very different is the satisfaction
J now feel It is serene and peaceful like
F'ather Francis. My mind is collected, and
my spirits are reposed. No longer agitated
with the anxieties and impatience of hopes
that terminate here; my eye is fixed on
that distant, invariable object of happiness,
on which time or chance can have no in.
fluence.
Ye holy retreats! ye venerable aisles! do
I owe this peace to you? No, not to you:
for methinks I have seen in your regions
the gloom of discontent. Is it not, my
pious Father, from a quiet conscience that
I derive this repose ? I should not, in,
deed, have felt it before I entered this
convent, but I should not then have
known that Theodosius was still in being.
Do not think, however, that I rejoice
not in my situation. I do rejoice in it :
but my joy arises, as I apprehend, from a
disburdened mind. The sudden change
from painful apprehension to the certainty
of confirmed wishes,

was attended with

a transport, the effects of which I still
feeL
But will not these effects last ?
Surely they will. O my friendi ! what
tears of joy have I shed over that first
welcome letter, which informed me that
' heod sius was still alive.'
But do I not forget that I am addressing
myself to the venerable Francis ? Pardon
me; I had indeed forgot, till on re-perus.ing that ever dear letter, I beheld the holy
name at the bottom. Yes; delightful let.
ter ; sweet messenger of peace ! 'Thouin.
formest me that I must consider Theodo.
sius still as dead.-Ha ! dead, didst thou

THEODOSIUS AND CONSTANTIA.
say ? Theodosius is still alive. Didst
thou not say that too ? Equivocating letter ! Be gone into my bosom : but presume not there to say that Theodosius is
dead.
Heavens ! what rambling is this ? Whither has my.unguided pen betrayed me !
Once more forgive me, my revered Father !
I thank you for the comfort, as well
as for the information which your last
letter afforded me. You have placed the
eternal Providence in a light the most
amiable, and new, at least to me. I had
always, hitherto, looked upon that power
as the inflictor of temporary evils, and
considered both private and public calamities as his judgments. But you have now
made me of a different opinion ; and I entirely agree with you, that temporary rewards and punishments are superseded by
the sanctions of the Christian religion.
Nevertheless, I am still of opinion that
God may occasionally interpose, by the
infliction of evil, to save a wretch who
is thoughtlessly or obstinately hastening to
destruction ; but, with you, I apprehend
that such dispensations are very rare, and
am, for the reasons you mention, almost
afraid to believe them.
One thought, however, occurs to me on
this occasion, which I shall take the liberty
to mention, in consequence of the invitation you have given me to express my sentiments without reserve.
We are so entirely different in our
powers and passions, and the circumstances
of sin and temptation are so extremely
various, that though the Almighty might
in general leave it to the sanctions of religion alone to influence the actions of
men, yet possibly he might (so to term it)
reserve a discretionary power, to bring
proper objects by afflictions to their duty.
But though the Creator of the universe
can in no sense be the author of evil, it
cannot be doubted, I apprehend, that he
may and frequently does bring good out
of evil. Of this the story of Joseph is, in
all its circumstances, a remarkable proof.
I cannot suppose, neither would you have
mnebelieve, that God inspired the brethren
of Joseph with envy, that they might sell
him into Egypt; yet, what glorious advantages did the Almighty Providence bring
out of that event!
And has he not, for he regards the
humblest of his creatures, has he not for
me turned the path of sorrow towards the
harbour of peace? I will believe it, lest I
should prove ungrateful.-Pray for me and
instruct me. Adieu !
CONSTANCE.
-'

LETTER XXIII.
THEODOSIUSTO CONSTANTIA.

25

But do you not err, my amiable friend,
and is there not some acrimony in your
language, when you speak of your natural
father ? It must not be. The duties of
parents and children are indeed reciprocal:
but the unnatural parent cannot acquit the
child of its duty, any more than the undutiful child can acquit the parent of his natural obligations. Both these however are
to be understood as secondary to the great
duties we owe ourselves. A child ought
no more to embrace misery than vice to
oblige a parent, and a parent is under no
obligation to forfeit his own happiness for
the gratification of a child. But under all
circumstances, that respect which is due to
a parent still subsists; and when Constantia reflects on this, she cannot withhold
that respect. Pity your father, Constantia;
pray for your father. 'If the God of this
world hath blinded his eyes,' fervently pray
for him in the words of Saint David, ' O
God, lighten his eyes, that he sleep not the
sleep of death.' He bears no uncommon
marks of guilt or infamy. His foible is the
love of money; a passion which of all
others is the most difficult to guard against,
because it increases by imperceptible de.
grees; and when it has once got entire
possession of the heart, I believe that there
is no remedy for it. Many liberal men
have become covetous, but I never yet
knew one covetous man who became liberal; so easy is it in every instance to deviate from virtue to vice, and so hard in
that particular case to rise from vice to
virtue. Let us then consider your father
rather as an object of compassion, and by
no means forget to offer up our prayers for
him. Who knows whether heaven may
not listen to the voice of supplicating innocence, and be overcome by the intreaties
of filial piety ? Would it not throw a new
glory around the brows of Constantia,
should her father be restored to virtue by
her prayers ?
You are in the right, Constantia, to
ascribe your present happiness to peace of
conscience! for that is the foundation of
all moral and religious comfort. Without
that the hallowed walls of a cloister would
be hung with horrors, and the gloomy retreats of a convent would administer melancholy to the mind. It is that alone
which gives serenity to our devotion, and
enables us properly to communicate with
God. It is that which the apostle of the
Gentiles, in his second letter to the con.
verts of Corinth and other parts of Achaia
offered to their consideration, to take of
that concern and sorrow which they must
have felt for the persecutions which he and
the rest of his fellow-labourers had undergone in their travels through Asia. The
confidence of the conscious mind, he informs them, in every painful, every trying
calamity, had still supported them. Nay,
continues he, we can even rejoice in our

distresses, and ' our rejoicing is this, the
GooD sense, Constantia, makes better testimony of our conscience.'
If we should enquire into the design of
comments than learning, and I find that to
propose my opinions to you will be of ad. Providence in thus furnishing us with this
silent inspector, we should find that in tli;
vantage to myseltf
DDg

26

THEODOSIUS AND CONSTANTIA.

case, as well

as in all others, our God has
acted from the dictates of infinite goodness.
Had we been without this ever active censor, what would have been the consequence ? Too apt we are even now to slight
the admonitions of it, and should we not
still more easily have fallen a prey to temptation, had there been no internal monitor
to inform us, that 'this should not be
done.' Would not vice have found many
more votaries, when no meeting remonstrance checked it, and no painful reflection followed ? It is evident then that conscience was stationed in the human mind
by the ' giver of all good gifts;' and that
for the aid of virtue, and for the support of
reason, 'it came down from the Father of
lights.' Is not this, Constantia, our guardian angel, who warns us against the most
dangerous of all enemies, the enemies of
our salvation ? By this friendly spy we are
informed of, and even foresee, their attacks; and happy it is for us that we are
thus assisted. The insinuations of vice,
after all, are too often successful, and her
arts prevail against the force of conviction.
Nor indeed, should we consider all the
stratagems she makes use of, would there
be any room to wonder at her success.
Does she not assume the characters of pleasure, knowledge, virtue, nay and of religion too : her great patron being conscious
that he shall be most successful in his
works of darkness, when he assumes the
appearance of an angel of light? Does not
the most profligate licentiousness call itself
pleasure? Does not mole-sighted infidelity
claim the titles of Knowledge and Philosophy ? Has not Religion been asserted by
blood-thirsty zeal? And has not fanatic
hypocrisy likewise assumed her banner, and
lifted up her voice in the streets? O conscience! Thou sacred guardian of rational
virtue and religious truth, let loose thy
vengeance upon these monsters, these pests
of society, and emissaries of vice!
Do not you perceive, my Constantia, in
this dispensation of Providence, the perfection of wisdom and goodness ?-There
are a thousand vices, a thousand enormities
which have nothing to fear from any
human tribunal, but are checked and restrained by this mental judge.
That peace which you imputed to a disburdened mind, led me naturally into
these sentiments. Will that peace, you
ask, continue
not that it will.
It is that peace which the world cannot
give, and which, therefore, the world cannot take away-That happiness which is
derived from a pleasing concurrence of
earthly events, will vanish when Fortune
reverts her wheel ; the same chance which
reared the brittle fabric of felicity may
demolish it in a moment; but religious
satisfaction, if rightly founded, cannot be
overthrown.
I am well assured, Constantia, that you
will find your happiness increase by the repeated exercises of devotion. It is impossible that the intercourse we have with infinite Goodness should not be attended
with
advantages.

?-Doubt

present

But ever let it be your care, my amiable
friend, that your devotion be rational and
serene. Let it not rise upon the wings of
passion, but be offered up with a subdued
and dispassionate decency. Let your mind
be clear and composed when you address
yourself to your God, lest by any means
you should speak unadvisedly to the Father
of Wisdom.
Wonder not if I tell you that all your
passions should not be absorbed in heaven.
Rational devotion is not founded in the
glowing ardours of human sensibility; the
more it partakes of these, the more remote
it will be from that spiritual and intellectual worship%which is paid to the Father of
lights by superior natures. The adoration
of passion is blind and impulsive; that of
reason is clear and intelligent. By this
worship the Deity is rationally honoured,
by that he is implicitly adored.
For these reasons, Constantia, I would
not recommend to you those books of flam.
ing devotion, which while they kindle the
heart, confuse the head, and turn sober
piety into wild enthusiasm. If the authors
of such books meant to serve religion, they
were mistaken; for true piety differs as
much from such enthusiastic ravings, as
the cheerful temper of serene health from
the delirious wildness of a fever. ' God is
a Spirit, and they that worship him must
worship him in spirit and in truth.' Whatever is spiritual is dispassionate. Such is
God himseJf, and such ought to be the
worship we offer him.
Adieu ! my Constantia.-May God keep
you in his protection, and enlighten you by
his grace.
FRANCIs

LETTER XXIV.
CONSTANTIATO THEODOSIUS.

THEODOSIUS not dead. The polite Theois
dosius still lives in the venerable Francis.
When 1 received your last letter, my hand
trembled, and my heart shrunk. Every
idle, every wild expression, every effusion
of vain imagination and uncorrected passion, that had dropt from my pen when I
wrote to you, rose up and reproached me
before your seal was broken. While Iread
the first period of your letter, I frequently
took my eye from the paper, and endeavoured to recollect the contents of my
own. With fear and apprehension I proceeded from line to line; but when I found
that you had overlooked many of my foibles, and touched the rest with so delicate,
so indulgent a-hand-O my paternal friend!
what floods of tender sorrow fell from the
eyes of your Constantia! Surely the kindness of those whom we revere, and are
conscious of having offended, is more cruel
than their severity could be. The heart
would oppose itself against severe treatment, and call in pride to its aid: but
against the force of kindness there is
shield.
In what an amiable light do you repre

no

THEODOSIUS AND CONSTANTIA.
sent that Goodness which brought us into
being! Conscience was undoubtedly one of
his gracious gifts. That moral inspector,
whose suggestions so lately gave me pain,
is now the principal author of my happiness, and I find that Conscience is not
more severe as an enemy, than kind as a
friend. Was it not this that supported the
sufferer of Uz, and was he not animated
by the suffrage of Conscience, when he
wished that man might be permitted 'to
plead his cause with God?' If I am mistaken, correct me, my guide, my father,
and my friend!
CoNsTANCE.

27

creature, the dispensation of peace would
not be in his power. He could not remove
from others those evils to which le shoui.
himself be exposed, nor brighten the prospects of futurity, whither his influence
cannot reach.
Man, as being circumscribed in his
nature, and subject to events which he
cannot command, must, if left to himself
fluctuate in uncertainty, and struggle with
disappointment; he therefore, that would
hope with confidence, and enjoy with security, must have a resource which time
and chance cannot affect. This car only
be in that independent Being, in whose
hands are 'the issues of life and death.'
Shall we trust to human power? 'The
strength of man is but as the grass of the
LETTER XXV.
field, and all the goodliness thereof as the
THEODOSIUS CONSTANTIA.
TO
flower that fadeth.'
Shall we trust to
human riches? 'Riches profit not in the
I AMpleased with your reference to the day of wrath.' Shall we trust to human
book of Job, as it gives me an opportunity wisdom? 'Wisdom herself is the daughto tell you with what delight I have always ter of affliction.' Shall we trust to human
read that beautiful dramatic poem. The friendship? 'In the day of adversity there
ingenious author of it had sacrificed to is no hope in man.' Can power preclude
.truth and nature. His character of the the attacks of misfortune? Can riches depious sufferer, however exalted, is not ex- light in the hour of mourning? Can wisaggerated by any unnatural strokes. While dom guard against the stratagems of
he is not permitted to fall into impious ex- chance? Has friendship a charm for the
clamation against the decrees of provi- languor of sickness? How feeble would
dence, he complains of his distress with these supports prove, Constantia, in the
the sensibility of a man to whom ' weari- trying hour of adversity, or in those mosome nights were appointed.' Hence the ments of awful suspense, when we expect
afflicted patriarch sometimes alarms us the everlasting doors of futurity shall be
with passionate wishes for death, and thrown open, and we shall enter in !
sometimes awakens our compassion with
Better founded, my friend, will be the
affecting sighs for his former happiness.
supports of that man who refers his cause
In the passage you have referred to, we to God, and whose conscience encourages
are presented with another turn of mind. him to rely on the eternal providence. He
'I am sensible,' says he, ' of the innocence depends on a power that is superior to all
of my life. I have done no wrong, neither events; on the riches of divine goodness,
has any violence been found in my hands; which can never be exhausted; on that
and yet my face is deformed with weeping, wisdom which can see the remotest conse.
and the shadow of death frowns upon my quences of things ; and on that friendship
eye-brows. Yet thus circumstanced, and which no caprice can change. The man of
thus innocent, my prayer surely may be Uz had the strongest conviction of thi;
heard.-Behold, even now my witness is in truth: for experience had taught him that
heaven, and my advocate is in the realms human greatness was 'lighter than vanity
of the highest. My friends continually itself;' that riches did actually 'make
deride me ; but my tears plead silently with themselves wings and flee away;' that the
God. O that a man might plead his cause wisdom of man was ' little more than that
with God, even as the son of man pleadeth of the wild ass's colt;' and that his friendthe cause of his friends.' In another of ship was scarce in proportion to his wisdom.
his speeches there is a passage much to the His three friends, whose knowledge should
same purpose. ' O that I knew where I have directed, and whose affection should
.might find him, that I might come even have soothed him, he often heard, with
to his seat, I would order my cause before reasonable impatience, prescribing resoluhim!
tions to which human nature was not
There is no doubt, Constantia, that in equal, endeavouring to deprive him of his
these sentiments the Patriarch was ani- greatest support, the consciousness of his
mated by the suffrage of conscience. And integrity, and sharpening his pains by
there is not a passage in his whole story mortifying reflections. Then it was that,
that is fraught with more important in- destitute of all earthly consolation, he
struotion: For it may teach us that, under appealed to heaven, and even wished that
all the circumstances of human calamity, by a personal communication with the
our only refuge is in the eternal provi- supreme Power, he might be permitted to
dence; and that our peace must be derived lay his cause before him.
from that approving conscience which may
It is our happiness, Constantia, that this
encourage us to refer our cause to God, appeal of the patriarch is not necessary for
From what other source can we, in such us. The Christian covenant, gracious in
circumstances, look for happiness? Depen- every dispensation, has given us 'an advodent beings have it not to bestow. Were ' cate with the Father,' who shall plead our
man in his social nature a more exalted cause: an advocate who knoweth well the

28

THEODOSIUS AND CONSTANTIA.

Lovely stranger! Daughter of religoug
duty, welcome ! How heavy was my heart
how painful were my hours in thy absence
how gloomy and dissatisfied-with what
anxiety and uneasiness did I arise from
the most comfortable of all duties, the holy
sacrifice of prayer ! The incense seemed to
rise unacceptably: My prayers were feeble;
they were unable to reach the throne of
the Almighty, and 'returned,' but not with
happiness, 'to my own bosom.' To the
possession of thee, sweet peace, what are
riches and honours ? What were the wealth
of kingdoms, the acquisition of worlds,
purchased at thy expense ?
O my paternal friend how forcible is
truth, divine truth ! with what pleasing
conviction did every ray of it, that illu.
mined your last letter, shine upon my
heart ? How poor did the interests, the
pleasures of this world appear, when compared with the pure, 'the peaceable wisdom that cometh from above.'
Father of lights, ever grant me this wis.
dom ! let the prayers of my father and my
friend co-operate with my own, at thy
eternal throne, and procure for me the
blessed influences of thy sacred Spirit.
This, my venerable guide, is the sub.
stance of my daily prayer, which since I
received your instructions, I have repeated
with great assiduity. I have ever been
convinced that the divine concurrence was
necessary to assist us in the discharge of
our duty, as well as to direct us in the
knowledge of it; but that emphatical
prayer which concludes your letter, 'that
the eternal providence would enlighten me
with his grace,' has given new force to my
convictions.
I will not prescribe to you the subject of
Hour letters. I shall listen with pleasure
and attention to your instructions, to what.
ever point of duty or of doctrine they may
be directed; but allow me to wish, my
revered friend, that on this important doc.
trine of grace I may soon receive your
valuable observations.
Possibly this divine dispensation may be
necessary in a greater or in a less degree
than I suppose it to be. I have received
different accounts of it from the professors
of our holy faith, but I think that all of
them have concluded it to benecessary for
us, though in what measure it was neces.
sary, they have not agreed.
It is generally understood that this divine
grace is the consequential privilege of
Christianity, purchased for us by him who
lied for our redemption; yet I have some.
times thought that the author of the book
of Psalms prayed for this enlightening
grace, in that passage which you have
quoted in one of your letters, 'My God,
lighten my eyes, that I sleep not the sleep
of death.'
With respect to this opinion, as well as
to the necessity or expedience of divine
-"- "grace,
and the degree in which it is dis.
pensed, I hope for your kind instructions.
LETTER XXVI.
Those books of flaming devotion, which
you have advised me not to read, I own I
CONSTANTIA TOTHEODOSIUS,
hlave hitherto been too fond of. ParticuWacom , sweet peace of conscience! larly since I entered upon the conveptual

fkatlties of human nature, and whose in.
tercession can never be ineffectual. Let
us, my friend, make ourselves acceptable
to him; let us lay hold of those terms of
redemption which he has procured for us,
and our eternal interests will be established
Sn a sure foundation.
You, my Constantia, are among those
that have 'chosen this good part;' you
have laboured for the bread of immortality,
and have left that ' which perisheth' to the
numbers who 'disquiet themselves in vain.'
Let such be pitied, my friend, not despised; for spiritual pride has its origin in such
contempt, and it is one of the many unchristian qualities of blind enthusiasm:
Nay, you should even watch over your
pity; for there is a kind of pity that is
allied to contempt.
Born with the gentlest heart, and ever
accustomed to adore, with the purest piety,
the Author of your being, your religion is
become habitual, and you know not the
difficulty with which a heart long devoted
to vice must be reformed.
Man, though born with faculties to reaoh
through the depths of time, and powers to
flourish through the ages of eternity, seldom looks beyond the present hour, or is
affected but by present objects. The immortal soul confined to this mansion of
earth, becomes enamoured of her habitation, and in time persuades herself that
'here she has a delight to dwell' Hence
she is solicitous how she may repair the
tottering wall, and support the frail fabric.
-Yet surely this attachment is strange,
Constantia; since notwithstanding her
solicitude for its preservation, this frame
will soon fall, and very soon moulder into
its native earth. Yet a little while, and.
every breast that is now warm with hope,
and busy with design, shall drop into the
cold and senseless grave. The eye that is
reading this page shall be closed in darkness, and the hand that writes it shall
crumble into dust.
In that hour when the immortal spirit
shall exchange this transient being for the
allotments of eternity-in that awful hour,
Constantia, what shallsupport us ? Nothing
but the consciousness of a well conducted.
life. That divine confidence in the Father
of nature-that peace of God which passeth
all understanding-that serene affiancethat exalted repose of soul-these are the
fruits of a life long
resigned to God, and
directed by religion. Yet surely these are
well worth our transient labours : If these
are not secured, we have lived and we
have toiled in vain; we have given our
'money for that which is not bread, and
our labour for that which satisfieth not.'
Live, my Constantia, supported by that
gracious power whom you serve, supported
by his providence, and enlightened by his
grace.
FRANCIS.

THEODOSIUS AND CONSTANTIA.

29

life, I have been much conversant in such more to say. The philosophers of our sysbooks. They were recommended to me by tem who weigh every thing in the scale of
my lady abbess, who is a good woman ; but natural obligation, or moral aptitude, ex..
her devotion seems not to be of that serene claim against this doctrine of grace. If
and temperate kind which you describe you admit the impulse of a superior agent,
and approve. She is unequal in her reli- where, say they, is the moral agency of
gious deportment, being sometimes elevat- man? Besides, is it agreeable to the fitness
of things that God should prescribe a law
ed, but more frequently depressed.
What do I not owe to you, my father, to man, to which his moral powers alone
for procuring me the book of God in a are not adequate? This, continue they,
language I understand ? Agreeably to your would be to make God an Egyptian taskdirections, I make that my principal study, master. The moral powers of man must
and trust that ' it is able to make me wise be adequate to the duties appointed him,
and the doctrine of grace is therefore suunto salvation.'
Never, I hope, in the heart of your Con. perfluous.
At this avenue, which is opened by the
stantia, shall that spiritual pride you mention find a place. I am too sensible of Christian philosopher, in rushes the philotheir unhappy condition, 'wholivewithout sopher of nature. He takes up the arguGod in the world,' to look upon them with ment where the other laid it down.-You
any other emotions than those of compas- have very rightly observed, Sir, says he, that
sion. With the heart that is destitute of God would be an Egyptian taskmaster, if
religious peace my own has been a fellow he gave us a law that we were unable to
sufferer; and should I triumph in my Ilive up to: Such, linsist upon it, is the law
comparative happiness or purity--should I I that is said to be from him-From him
thence derive any sentiments of contempt therefore it cannot be.
Thus, Constantia, you see the consefor others, the reflection would rather
mortify than soothe me, since I should quence of philosophizing in religion.-Give
appear to despise in them what I myself up one redoubt to the enemy, and he turns
our batteries against us. To both these
had been.
The hour of prayer is at hand-I come; I ungracious opponents I shall give a short
daughters of devotion, I join you-and answer. To the Christian sophist I say,
now will I once more intreat the Author that the powers of man may be inadequa'e
of life and death long to spare Theodosius to the law of religion, though its origin
was from God; and to the philosopher of
for the comfort and support of CONSTANCE.
nature I answer, that the law of religion
may be from God, though the powers of
tman are inadequate to it. The same
LETTER XXVII.
argument will prove both these points.
A perfect law might be given to imperTO
THEODOSIUS CONSTANTIA.
feet beings without any impropriety: It
I INTENDED make the dispensation of might be given to make them exert to the
to
grace the subject of a letter, and I thank utmost the powers of their nature, and
you for putting me in a method of treating it. strain to higher degrees of virtue for the
Your first question is, Whether this dis. high prize of their calling-it might be inpensation was only the consequential privi- tended to encourage a useful emulation by
lege of Christianity ? or whether it was not making still greater degrees of excellence
also the privilege of Judaism?
attainable;-it might be designed to preThe latter part of this proposition you in- vent indifference and independence, which
fer from that poetical petition of the man would naturally have suffered togrow
*salmist, 'My God, lighten my eyes,' &c. upon him, when secure, by his own power,
,-Now, Constantia, it is obvious enough of attaining to moral perfection, and of
to suppose that the king of Israel might discharging every duty enjoined him. A
pray for the illumination of the divine dependance on Le Almighty for assistance
Spirit, as his son and successor prayed for in the conduct of life is productive of many
wisdom, though under their system there advantages.
It prevents that pride and
as no promise of the ordinarydispensations carelessness which are too often the effect
of grace. It would be natural for a people of security and independence. It opens an
who were visited by God, and beheld, on so intercourse with the Deity by prayer;
many occasions, the interposition of his which, though the most delightful part of
providence, to apply to him for his assis. religious duty, would become unnecessary
tance under the conflicts of religious duty. the moment that the aid of divine grace
It would be still more natural for them should be found to be so.
who sat in darkness, to petition for that
From these co-operating causes, Conlight, of which some emanations were stantia, you see how expedient is the dis.ommunicated in the extraordinary influ- pensation of grace. How necessary it is
ences of the Spirit, though, agreeably to for us in our present state, we need not
the scheme of the eternal and unerring make appeals to reason, but to experience.
providence, the perfection of it should not
To be ignorant of the sacred truths of
be displayed till 'the fulness of time.'
religion, and to be destitute of the cornThis may be sufficient to answer your municable influences of God's holy Spirit,
first question, which is rather curious than has been always considered by good men
useful.
as the most deplorable condition of human
With respect to the necessity or expedi- wretchedness.
Hence we find it repre,
ence of the divine grace . I have much sented in the sacred writings by the terri-

30

THEODOSIUS AND CONSTANTIA.

ble images of darkness and death. 'Those,' that external information which has been
says the prophet, 'that sate in darkness ordinarily dispensed to us by the Spirit of
have seen a great light, and they that were God; which while I have been attending
in the region and the shadow of death, on to, I have not lost sight of my argument.
them hath the light shined.--Awake thou
The same causes which concur to make
that sleepest, and arise from the dead, and the outward evidences of the Spirit of God
Christ shall give thee light.-My God, so necessary for our information, render
lighten mine eyes that I sleep not in death.' the internal aids of his grace as necessary
This was the petition of that prince, whose for our direction and support in the disdevotion was so pure and exalted, that the charge of our duty.
Almighty himself boretestimony to his
To acquire a consummate knowledge of
,xcellence in pronouncing him a 'man the holy Scriptures is not alone sufficient
after his own heart.' And could he, 'the to conduct to the 'land of everlasting
us
light of Israel,' could he, distinguished for life.' These are the leading star by which
his knowledge of the then revealed reli- we must direct our course, but other means
gion--could he, illumined with the spirit are necessary to guard us from the tempest
of prophecy, think it necessary to pray for above, and the shoals below. The ocean
the enlightening grace of heaven, and of life is treacherous and uncertain. Many
should not we much more ?-we, who can- latent dangers await the passenger, and he
not, like the prophet, boast any superior is frequently in the greatest peril when he
portion of the divine Spirit, and who have thinks himself the most secure.
yet, with him, the same propensities to evil.
Shall I change the scene, and suppose
On us, indeed, ' the sun of righteousness that we have an earthly passage to the city
hath shined.' To us is displayed a perfect 'that is not made with hands ?' Yet inthat
knowledge of those saving truths, those case, how many circumstances of danger
exalted doctrines, that were then only seen to the traveller does the allegory afford me!
in types and shadows. It is our happiness A thousand accidents concur to make us
to know the perfect will of God, revealed deviate from 'the narrow way that leadeth
by his Son Jesus Christ. The sacred Scrip- to life.' We are on one side threatened by
tures
contain every thing necessary to sal- horrible precipices, on another invited by
vation. There every moral duty is clearly prospects of beauty. Despair points out to
stated, and every point of faith susfciently us the length and difficulty of the journey,
discovered. To these 'fountains of light and weariness importunes us to seek the
and immortality' we may apply, without valleys of repose.
deception, forthat knowledge which 'leadThe object, indeed, at which we finally
eth us into all truth.'
aim, would infinitely counterbalance every
Blessed be the gracious author of our inconvenience.
And 'the sufferings of
salvation ; 'the veil of partition' is now the present time' will bear no comparison
taken away; those types and figures, 'with the glory that shall be revealed
which were' the shadowings of good things among us.' But objects placed at a disto come,' are removed, and 'we know what tance, however important, never strongly
we worship.'
affect us-As in the attraction of bodies,
It is for us then on whom 'the light hath if those with which they sympathize be
shined,' to be willing, least, to rejoice in far removed, they will adhere to others
at
that light-It is for us with unwearied more near, to which they have less relaassiduity to study the holy Scriptures, tion.
'which are able to make us wise unto salSome portion of divine grace, some meavation.' Whatever attainments we make sure of God's Holy Spirit, is indispensably
in science, if we neglect this, the only 'true necessary for every Christian. Mere huwisdom,' our knowledge and our industry man wisdom, though assisted by the knoware vain. Whatever skill, whatever pru- ledge of the divine revelation, will not
dencewe possess in the economy of this always be sufficient to support us in our
life, if the acquisition has been made by duty. How often, with the conviction of
the neglect of this knowledge, it is skill truth upon us, are we insensibly drawn
that darkens, and prudence that destroys, into the ways of error! How often, in the
The rude notices of natural reason alone consciousness of determined integrity, are
can never be sufficient to direct us in every we betrayed into vice by the stratagems of
part of our conduct. Those lights, though temptation ! Though we may, in general,
useful and universal, are liable to be oh- be very sensible of our duty, yet we have
scured by the passions, to be enfeebled by not at all times the same capacity of attenvice, or misled by error. The understand- tion, nor the same readiness of apprehenming
may be made subservient to the heart, sion to distinguish good from evil. The
and employed in the defence of what we faculties of the mind are sometimes vigorwish, rather than what we ought to do. ous, and sometimes languid. The will is
The force of truth may be overcome by frequently retained by idleness, or solicited
habit, and, like the heathen statuary, we by desire, without receiving any instruc..
may fall down before an image of our own tions from reason; and the economy of
framing. It is essentially necessary there- the soul is oftener in disorder than that of
fore that we should have some certain the body.
rules of action, some plain directions laid
In such circumstances, Constantia, have
down for our conduct, which can neither we not need of some superior aid? Want
be perverted by sophistry, nor misconstrued we not the directive influences of the
by error.
Spirit of wisdom to keep us in the narrow
Such, Constantia, is the necessity of paths of duty? Can there be any doubt

THEODOSIUS AND CONSTANTIA.

31

that the ordinary dispensations of grace be perfect-Justice and truth are his essen.
are necessary ?
tial attributeshis justice ard his truth
But in what degree, you ask, is this therefore must be perfect.
grace ordinarily dispensed? To which I
You see, my friend, how wretchedly
must beg leave to answer, that ' God giveth founded is that fanatical doctrine, which
not his Spirit by measure.' It is enough represents the grace of God as an irrefor us to know what he hath declared, sistible principle, acting unconditionally,
that 'his grace is sufficient for us.' It iand impelling men to salvation. You see
must be necessary in a greater or a less de- what dishonour it would bring upon the
gree, in proportion to the different tempers, Deity, what disorder amongst mankind,
situations and circumstances of mankind, and how inconsistent it is with the sacred
And to the prayers and endeavours of writings.
each a sufficiency thereof will be dispensed.
If therefore the grace of God be a conTo our prayers and endeavours, I say, it ditional, not an irresistible principle, it
will be dispensed; agreeably to which we will, as I observed before, be dispensed
are told, that 'our heavenly Father will only in a sufficient degree: That is, it
give of his Holy Spirit to them that ask it will effectually co-operate with our own
in his Son's name.' And while we are in- endeavours in working out our salvation
formed that 'it is God who worketh in us,' More than this we have no right to
we are commanded 'to work out our own expect from the grace of God. Infinite
salvation.' Thus, Constantia, a sufficiency wisdom will not do what is not necessary
of the divine grace is promised to our to be done. The extraordinary influences
prayers-promised to co-operate with our of the Spirit have ceased, because they are
endeavours. And it is thus, that the eco- I o longer requisite.
nomy of grace interferes not with that
St. Paul himself, in his first epistle to
freedom of will on which all our merit, as the converts at Corinth, tells them that
rational creatures, is founded. Our prayers the miraculous power of the Holy Spirit
and endeavours are voluntary acts, and we should cease, but that charity, which was
are consequently as much at liberty to lay a moral grace of Christians, should still
hold of the dispensation of grace as of re- remain, in consequence of those ordinary
demption, and as much at liberty to reject dispensations of the Spirit, that should
it, to resist or to quench the Spirit.
continue with the church.
Were not this the case, Constantia, were
Whatever, therefore, appears to exceed
the dispensation of grace entirely inde- these ordinary influences of grace, the
pendent on our own will, the moral agency raving flights of enthusiasm, and the rage
of man would be superseded, and the doc- of fanatic zeal; the sudden impulses of
trine of rewards and punishments would devotional rapture, and the wild reveries
be vain. If, according to the doctrine of of Tartuffian dreamers; all these are the
fanatics, the grace of God be an impulsive fruits of insane imagination, and cannot
principle, partially bestowed, and actuating proceed from that pure and peaceable
us as mere machines, then the Almighty Spirit which cometh from ' the Father of
has taken our salvation intohis own hands, lights.'
and rendered moral virtue an empty name.
The office of that Spirit is to inform
But this doctrine will on the conclusion the mind with a right sense of its duty
be found blasphemous to God, and injuri- and to animate and encourage it in the
ous to mankind. For if God be the sole discharge of it. In this light, it is properly
agent of our salvation, to him it must be called by our Redeemer that Comforter
owing if any soul perisheth. And if moral which should 'lead us into all truth, and
virtue be vain, the flood-gates of vice may teach us all things.'
be thrown open, and the world be overHow much are those offices misreprewhelmed with the deluge.
seited by the followers of Calvin, and
But if God be the sole author of our by enthusiasts of every denomination
salvation, and if his grace be an impulsive What visionary communications, what
principle, which we cannot resist, then suggestions of sick fancy have those de.
no soul shall perish; for we are expressly lirious dreamers imputed to the Spirit of
told that ' God is not willing that any wisdom ! As if God would render vain
should perish, but that all should come to that faculty of reason which characterizes
repentance.' If it should be replied that man by his own image, and as if the
some do perish, nay that many go on 'in enlightening Spirit of grace would rather
the broad way to destruction'-then I obscure than illumine the understanding,
answer, that God has not the power to do these unthinking men have charged upod
what he is willing to do. He is willing the operations of that Spirit the most
that none should perish, and yet you say I extravagant effects of wild insanity.
that some do perish, therefore there are Under the influence of imaginary calls
some whom he has it not in his power to some have preached, and some have prosave. Now God is all-powerful, conse- phesied. The mechanic has forsaken his
quently he must have dispensed with his awl, and his wife her distaff, and with
power in that respect by making the salva- heads full of glorious visions, together they
tion of man conditional. If we accept not have issued into the streets and highways
the mercies of the gospel on the terms that I to publish the everlasting gospel.
are offered to us, God himself can do no
It will always be difficult for devout
more ibr us-God himself cannot act in- ignorance to distinguish between the sugconsistently with his own laws. Every gestions of imagination, and the influences
attribute of the supreme perfection must of the Divine Spirit. Unaccustomed to

32

THEODOSIUS AND CONSTANTiA

abstracted thinking, or even to draw con- ciple, at least its effects cannot be repug.
clusions from the most simple propositions, nant to its conceptions.
the ignorant are unable to form any
Thus, Constantia, by the information
iudgment of that mode of inspiration, of the revealed word, and by the use of
which should be most consistent with the that reason which God has given us that
wisdom of providence. They consider we may be able to understand his will, we
not that it must be more agreeable to learn the nature of such dispensations as
infinite knowledge to invigorate the his wisdom hath thought proper to corn
nobler faculty of reason, and to bring municate to us.
the passions into subjection, than by inI have extended my observations on
flaming them to weaken that faculty, and this subject farther than you desired, or
by so doing 'to put darkness for light.' might expect, because the doctrine of
Hence all the waking dreams of blind en- grace is an important subject, and the
thusiasm are cherished and respected as right understanding of it may not only
the offspring of grace; and the mistaken preserve us from many absurdities and
ascribes to the author of reason indecencies in religious duty, but from
such impulses and communications as many dangerous errors both in practice
could only exist in a mind where reason and belief. When once the heart gives itself
was impotent.
up to blind fanaticism, we cannot tell to
But the delusions of innocent enthusiasm what attempts it may be seduced, or where
would hardly deserve attention, were they the influences of unrestrained, and (what
not sometimes productive of consequences will always be the consequence) of misthat render that enthusiasm no longer in- directed passions may lead us.-When the
nocent. From the belief of divine impulses imagination triumphs over reason, the
the flames of persecution have been light- economy of the mind is destroyed; and
ed, and the altars of superstition have confusion with insanity in her rear, apbeen adorned ; the sanguinous have been proaches, and usurps the empire of the
prompted to indulge their natural thirst soul.
of blood, and the gloomy have forsaken
May every ministering spirit of
the society of human creatures, and inha. guard the peace of my Constantia!heaven
May
bited caves and cells in solitary sanctity.. her piety be uniformly rational and calm !
This species of religious retirement I have May the incense of her devotion rise from
ever condemned; but my objections do the alar of reason, the voluntary sacrifice
not affect the conventual life, for there of gratitude! May she ever 'know whom
is great difference between retiring to a she worships,' and remember that an incave in some unfrequented desert, and en- tellectual Being requireth an intellectual
tering into a religious society.*
Many adoration;
more than these have been the effects i every point in every act of worship, and in
of duty, may she be constantly
of mistaken impulgps. The history of the supported and directed by the pure and
church in every period abounds with peaceable Spirit of truth! By that Spirit
them.
may she be enlightened to discern
Yet how easy is it upon reflection, to finer relations that exist between the those
Creaguard against these delusions ! What is the tor and the creature, undistinguished by
end of divine grace ? It is only to aid us in the eye of human intelligence, and learn
the knowledge and in the discharge of our from thence not only what is due, but what
duty. Therefore whatever impulse hath is acceptable to God. Under every circumother tendenrcy than these, it cannot be of stance of life may she be happy in ease, or
God-because it is not agreeable to his contented in resignation; and when
wisdom, to do what is superfluous. A short thread of life is spun, when she the
en
sufficiency of his grace is what alone he ters upon the inheritance of immortality
hath promised us, and what alone is con. may she receive the fulness of the blesssistent with infinite wisdom to give. Will ings which Infinite Benevolence has in re.
the Father of lights amuse his creatures serve for those 'that honour him as.
he
with dreams and reveries? Will he sport ought to be honoured.'
FRANCIs.
with their passions, depress and elevate,
inflame and distract them ? Will he not
rather assist 'such as call upon him faithLETTER XXVIII.
fully,' to bring those passions into subjecCONSTANTIATO TEODOSIUS.
tion; and to confirm in its proper empire theTO
THEODOSIUS.
nobler principle of reason? Is not such the How beautiful does the religion of Chrismode of operation that the all-wise Creator tians appear, when beheld with the
eye
would assign to his assisting Spirit? 'The of reason ! How amiable the benevolent
wisdom that cometh from above,' we are author of it ! Surely, my
revered friend,
told, 'is pure and peaceable:' such wisdom there is a secret delight in the investiga.s congenial with our reason, which is a tion of divine truths, and the discovery
of
clear and steady principle; and therefore, them affords the
of pleasures.
i must act in concurrence with th',t prin- Your most obliging letter on the subject
of grace gave you, I presume, no less saSThere is indeed, as father Francis observes, a tisfaction in the writing,
difference between these two sortsof retirement ; me in the perusal; and than it afforded
I
but, in the Editor's opinion, the difference lies only discern in the more animatedthink I can
passages of
in she mode ; for they are equally repugnznt to the that letter those pleasing sensations
you
determinations of providence, which has made the
wrhole moral duty of man to consist in the social felt when
the light of religious truth shone
apacity of serving his frllow-creatures.
the eaearest to your eve. If I am not mis

-isionary

THEODOSIUS AND CONSTANTIA.
taken in this, and if your pleasure in
writing that letter were equal to that
which I found in reading it, you have had
a better reward than my gratitude can
give you.
You have justified the scheme of provi.
dence in the dispensation of grace against
every objection that has been, or can be
brought against it. You have placed in a
clear light the benevolent purposes of the
Father of mercies in that dispensation, who
has made man dependent on him for the
assistance of his divine Spirit, only because
he has a delight to give it, and because it
must be the happiness and comfort of his
creatures to receive it. It plainly appears
from your account of it, that the economy
of grace interferes not with that freedom
of will on which all moral goodness must
be founded, and without which we could
neither be capable of virtue nor vice, neither entitled to rewards, nor liable to
punishment. It appears that the moral
agency of man may be exercised in the
application of the divine graoe, and that
he is at liberty either to apply or to reject it.
With respect to the degree in which it
is dispensed, you have, no doubt, rightly
ebserved, that as God will not do what is
unnecessary, no more than a sufficiency of
it will be granted to our prayers : and as
to the mode of its operation, it is surely
consistent with the wisdom that gave us
reason for our direction, to render by his
grace the efforts of that reason effectual,
in subjecting the passions, and reducing
them to the obedience of his holy laws.
By a rational worship, you have observed,
in a former letter, that God is most honoured ; when, from a due and dispassionate
consideration of his benevolent works, we
come, from a principle of gratitude, to offer
him a 'reasonable sacrifice.' This sacrifice
would indeed be no longer reasonable,
were we irresistibly impelled to offer it by
the influences of a superior agency : we
should then be the instruments of a worship
paid to God, but we should not be the
worshippers; and with what delight should
the eternal wisdom look upon our sacrifice,
when conscious that it proceeded not from
a voluntary discharge of duty, but was the
inevitable consequence of his own agency?
With what propriety could he say, ' Well
done, thou good and faithful servant,' when
he himself has been the agent, and the servant no more than a machine in his hands?
To suppose then that the divine grace is
an irresistible principle, must be ' to charge
God foolishly;' and whatever reverence I
have heretofore paid to those misdeeming
enthusiasts who hold this doctrine, I must
now retract it, and shall for the future,
rather pity them as mistaken, than respect
them as inspired.
But I will own to you, my paternal
friend,.that I should not so easily have
become the disciple of reason, had you
made that faculty a dictator on its own
a:uthority; when you only make it instrumental in the application of truths
revealed, as that is, undoubtedly, the

purpose for which it was given us, I cannot but agree with you in every conclusion
you have made.
How shall I thank you, for the re.
peated instances of your care and kindness,
for those ardent wishes that glow in the
last page of your letter-those prayers for
your Constantia's happiness and safety ?
O may they be heard at the throne of
everlasting mercy ! and rise not unaccompanied with those daily offerings which
she delights in making for the preservation
of her friend. Adieu !
CONSTNCE
LETTER XXIX.
THEODOSIUS
TO CONSTANTIA.

As you were not displeased with my
account of the dispensation of grace
I will now give you my thoughts on a
duty, to the due discharge of which that
dispensation is promised. I have observed
before, that, were the grace of God an
unconditional and irresistible principle,
our prayers would be superfluous. Had
the Almighty Providence formed an irreversible decree with respect to our salvation, thing that he totally uninfluenced by
any or were we should
do in order to
obtain the aid of his sacred Spirit, our
acts of devotion would be as absurd as
every other act of duty would be vain.
Yet there are many, Constantia, who hold
this doctrine: because the Christian covenant is called the covenant of grace, they
annihilate the moral agency of man, and
represent him as entirely passive in the
accomplishment of his salvation. I have
sufficiently exposed the errors of this unscriptural doctrine, and shall therefore
proceed to consider prayer as one of the
means of grace.
Our Saviour himself, who 'died for our
sins, and rose again for our justification,'
(that is for our deliverance from eternal
death; for the word justification in the sacred writings, generally signifies deliverance, and in our Saviour
this passage) that sense I understandI it in
himself, say,
whose merits with the Father were the pri.
mary means of procuring us this grace, expressly convinceth us that it is to be obtain.
ed by prayer. For in the first place, this
was the method by which he proposed to
obtain it for us-' I will pray to the Father,'
says he, 'and he will send you another
Comforter, who shall abide with you always;' and in the next place, he assures
his disciples that his heavenly Father will
give his Holy Spirit to them that ask it.
The passage is express to the purpose. ' I
say unto you, ask and it shall be given you,
seek and ye shall find, knock and it shall
be opened unto you. For every one that
asketh receiveth, and he that seeketh
findeth, and to him that knocketh it shall
be opened. Which of you, being a father,
if his son shall ask bread will give him a
stone ? Or if a fish, will he for a fish give
him a serpent? Nay, and if he shall ask
an egg, will he give him a scorpion ? If ye,
then, being evil, know how to give good

34

THEODOSIUS AND CONSTANTIA.

gifts to your children, how much rather
Neither is it necessary for me to instruct
shall your Father, who is in heaven, give you, Constantia, in what words
should
the Holy Spirit to them that as-k him?' pray for the assistance of the dlvine Spirit.
The pains that the divine reasoner hath Eloquence is in iowise essential to prayer;
taken to convince his disciples upon this it may be necessary for the perstw ion of
point of faith, are very remarkable. He men, but God 'sefteth it at tought.' Let
first commands, or rather exhorts them us not think that we shall
heard the
to oflblr their prayers to God; then, for sooner for our mach speaking, nor
for
their encouragement, le assures then that the elegance of our exprsssioi. If we pray
such prayers are heard and granted; aid by a set form, let the language of it be artafterwards, for their coiviction, he infers less aod unaffecter, aid in that respect reaa undeniable conclusion from a parity of semble the singleness or simplicity of heart
reason. 'thus there remains no doubt with which we should
it to the all.
that as the mediation of Christ is the knowing Wisdom. 1 would readily give
primary, so prayer is the secoidary means you such a forso as I speak oi, but the
of grace,
church alloweti not a private ecclesiastic
in what words then, and with what compose ard communicate a form of
spirit shall we pray?-' Wherewithal shall prayer. Ic you, however, whose underwe come before the Lord, and humble our- standing is clear, and whose memory is reselves before timehigh God ?' Is not, it may tentive, "ho digest your thoughts with prono asked, that form of prayer which our pricey, and express them with ease, scarce
Saviour taught his disciples, comprehensive any form of private devotion is occes.
of all our wants, and smcfflcicnt for the sary.*
Christian church in all ages? Should this
With regard to the spirit
manner
question be put, 1 would answer in the wherewith we ought to approach the
negative. The prayer which our Saviour eterial Providence, we cannot be
attaught his disciples was a temporary form. tentive to so important a circumstance.
'The redemption of mankind was not then We should endcavour, as much as possible,
accomplished: the means of grace were to be screie and rec-lected. Before we
not effbctuated. The Saviour ofthe world address that Almighty being, we should
was not ascended Into heaven, and it was meditate a moment on his sublime perfecin consequence of his ascension only, that tions, and
our miidi with the idea
the Comforter, the Spirit of truth, was of his glorious attributes. But rather let
granted to the church. 'If 1 go not away,' us comtemplate him in his benevolent,
says he, 'the Comforter will not come unto than in his judicial capacity. We ought
you; but if I go away, 1 will send him unto indeed never to be without the idea of the
you.' It was impossible, therefore, that he latter, but the first should always have the
should teach his disciples to pray for that leading iifluence in our minds. Our
grace which was not yet attainable, nor heavenly Father treateth us nut as sercommunic:tec, except in an especial man- varts but as sons; our acts of obedience,
nor. Some subtle interpreters have, iiideed, therefore, to him should be purely filial.
supposed that the meaniig of 'thy kiig- He delighteth not in the prostration of
dom come,' in the prayer abovementioned, servile lear, but in the rheerful worship
is metaphorical, aid that the influence of of reverential gratitude. Let us rot ap-grace is thereby signified; but (setting aside proach him with the criea and laments.
those argumnts I have brought againet the tions ofn oloch's sworshippers, ior with
possibility of this interpretation) 1 would the
of the votaries of Bash.
ask these mess, whether it be probable that
on this, as well as on every other orthe wise author of our salvationt should casion, let us remember the vast distance
teach his disciples to express soi impsortant between fallen mats aiid his Cre-ator ; let
a petition by a distant metaphor !--- us consider that our God, though seated on
Whether hie woo taugot theist plainly to toe throne of everlasting mercy is ansof
say, ' give us this day our daily bread,' fended Being, whose laws
have broken,
would inot, if it had beets then proper, rind to whose favour we have lorfeited our
have taught them as plinly to s-ty, natural right. These reflections will make
give its te grace of thy Holy Spirit,' us aisproach hiin with that humble antd
or to have expressed themnselves in seine depetndent spirit, which insst become a
other form of words as clear, and as much frail and erring creature, in the
to the purpose. Had the words, thy .kisg- of its almighty anid aillperf'eet Judge.
dsm come, no siginificationt that
licier
Let the itncettse we othcr him ho the pear
ally obvious, they might as well have been asid utedissetobled devotion of the heart.
wrested to one settee as to asiother; but Let us avoid thse Phtarisairal (ostentationi
the kingdom of God was sit expressioti, of long prayers. Our moral atnd religious,
familiar to the ears of the disciples, and to ;as wvell as our naturah waists,
be
them it required no corooent.
'They pressed in few words, atnd God is not slow

you

be yet

other

to

aid

too

fill

'Yet selt-castigatios

we

presence

was

may

knew that it meant the establishment

of

!to

hear.

ex.

One penitential sigh, one humble

the.Messiah's evangelical kinsgdom. Anto- acknowsledgttettt, will find ire way to heather argument that this form of prayer y en. Onseearnest pietitions for the divine
was temporary and is inow insufficient, is

this, that the apostles made use of other

prayers.-To prove thsis it is

;

1*

Hew idle have been

sit

the

idisiputes coetr'n-

not necessary in h reeec of eraying by form, or praying
extempr pe
Bth
forase ise pabis
insuer
to adduce a
instance, because Hutleers offer themselves.
: priat devastate.

single

THEODOSIUS AND CONSTANTIA.
assistance, one sincere expression of gratitude, will be as effectual as a thousand repetitions. Diffuse and declamatory prayer
is a mark of fanaticism, the bold and extravagant effusion of holy impudence.
Shall we think that the Divine Wisdom
is to be courted by much speaking ? Is it
necessary that the sincere of heart should
weary heaven with long importunity ?
Would not this be to suppose that God is
hard to be intreated, or that his ear is obstructed, 'and cannot hear?' How brief
is that temporary form of prayer which
our Saviour taught his disciples! Does
that form contain one superfluous word,
or one mere collateral or unimportant
thought ? Is the imagination indulged in
vain descriptions, or are the passions roused
to eager imprecations? As if the divine
author of it had foreseen the idle prolixity
of those ranting prayers which should be
used in future ages of the church, he has
hi the abovementioned form been remarkably concise. There is not, perhaps, in any
language, an instance of composition
where so much is expressed in so few words.
It must be owned, however, that to express our thoughts with brevity and precision, must be the effect of literary skill
with us, as it was the divine knowledge
with the author of the disciples' prayer.
But from the brevity of that prayer we
may learn, what may be of more general
use, to offer no superfluous addresses to
the Almighty. If we look into many of our
modern forms of prayer; particularly such
as have been composed by Christians for
their private use, and afterwards printed
for the service of the public, we shall find
that this precept has been very much neglected. With a profusion of depreciating
expressions, partly taken from the sacred
writings, and partly the coinage of their
own imaginations, as if they would make
a merit of their self-abasement, they are
loud in complaining of themselves as the
worst of creatures. This is a burlesoue
upon Christian humility. I have known a
pious lady, whose life was one continued
scene of devotion, daily repeat these humiliating lies, when she offered up her
prayersto the Father of truth and wisdom.
Our Saviour's approbation of the Publican's prayer affords no argument in favour
of these. The Publican was supposed to
be really a sinner, not in the ordinary but
in the extraordinary sense of the word ;
) et even he makes noparadeofhumiliation.
He, though a publican, does not call
himself the worst of men, but saith simply,
' God be merciful to me a sinner.' This
was all that he said, and all that was necessary for him to say.
I have yet one objection more to these
humiliating rants, these effusions of fana.ticism. They are not' only improper for
che good man, but unnecessary for the
sinner-at least on the part of God they
are unnecessary: for, of God can it he
supposed, that he is ignorant of our con.
duct, and must learn it from a multitude
of self-abasing words ? Or shall we think
that he delights in the frequent mention of

that wickedness, the practice of which
offended him ? Or may we believe that he
will be prevailed upon by the loudness of
tautological declamation? If these things
are not to be supposed, we shall conclude
that these harangues of self-abasement are
unnecessary with respect to God, and that
it will be more proper, as well as more
modest, for the sinner to use the brief ac.
knowledgment of the Publican.
Long and loud confessions of sin before
God, are always a mark of weak understanding; nay, I have known some ecclesiastics so extremely injudicious as to re.
commend this practice in private devotion,
and so weak as to advise us, in our ad.
dresses to God, to mention particularly the
several sins we have been guilty of. Is not
this to suppose ' that God is even such a
one as ourselves ?' Or is it not to conceive
yet more meanly of him? When a person
is disposed to ask forgiveness of those whom
he has offended, and to acknowledge his
faults, would a generous mind be delighted
with a recapitulation of them? Would it
not rather be painful to a generous mind ?
And shall we dare to think that man is
possessed of greater generosity, or more
enlarged conceptions, than that infinite
Being from whom he derives both? Why
then, ye self-abasing sinners, will ye weary
God with your mistaken prayers? Why
will ye offer to the divine ear what it delighteth not to hear? Can ye not be humble, without importuning heaven with your
acts of humility? Is not this a species of
eye-service ?
Let us consider the parable of the proligal son, which may in some measure be
looked upon as a form of repentance. He
had meditated, we are told, a short speech
of acknowledgment.
'Father, I have
sinned against heaven, and in thy sight,
and no longer am worthy to be called thy
son; make me as one of thy hired servants.' This confession he meditated, and
this was as brief, for the circumstances, as
the prayer of the Publican. But what do
we find in the sequel of the story? We
find that this short speech was rendered
still shorter, by the omission of the last
clause. The penitent son, after he had
met with such a gracious reception from
his father, probably concluded that such a
humiliating overture would give him pain,
-or if he were about to make it, the father

interrupted him, by calling to his servants,
and ordering the best robes. Observe, my
Constantia, the skill of the sacred parabolist in this place. ' And the son said unto
him, Father, I have sinned against heaven,
and in thy sight, and no longer am worthy
to be called thy son.-But the father said
unto his servants, Bring forth the prime
robe, and put it upon him.' Ir not the
omission of the last clause in the premeditated speech (' make me as one of thy
hired servants') after such a reception, remarkably beautiful? When this is considered, does it appear in the least probable, that the father should either expect or
take delight in a detail of his son's follies
and vices.

B6

THEODOSIUS AND CONSTANrIA.

As an act of repentance, with respect to her see in yet many more instances what a
God, such a detail cannot be necessary: weak, ignorant, short-sighted creature she
For what is repentance but a relinquish is.
ment of sins, from a conviction that they
But indeed you ought to conquer that
have offended the Judge of the world?
vanity, which in former days you contriI have said more on this circumstance buted to strengthen: when too prodigal of
than I at first intended, and possibly more compliment, you would over-rate the ta.
than you may think it required: but no- lents of your Constantia ; and, in the huthingis unimportant that relates to the mility of tender affection, would profess
worship of God, or that contributes any yourself her pupil! Be patient, and indulge
thing to rectify that worship.
me-You make me sensible of my weak.
For this reason, you will favour me with ness: I am yet a woman, and must com.
your attention, while I point out some plain; I will have my revenge, and con.
other errors that I have observed ilforms vince you of your errors. Do I not
of devotion. Among these are impertinent much of my pride and vanity to you? owe
Did
expressions, such as have no immediate you not in the days of flattering love che.
relation either to the general or particular rish
and support those unserviceable foi.
purposes of prayer; such as are introduced bles Having no other ambition than to
?
merely for parade, or such as have no other please Theodosius, if he appeared satisfied
end than to fill the harmony of a period, with my accomplishments, I thought them
or to form the side of an antithesis. Of sufficient : If he praised my talents, I be
these I could produce many instances, lieved them to begreat; and was indifer
from almost every form of prayer, whether ent about new acquisitions of knowledge.
public or private, from profuse expatiations Thus, my friend, I bring a heavy charge
on the past and present works of God, and against you, and impute to you, in
IZom superfluous details of our conduct measure, my pride and ignorance. some
Thus
towards him; when with careful minute- it is, that while your letters convince
me
ness we inform him of circumstances of the latter, I gratify the first by a flatterwhich he knows better than ourselves.
ing excuse. Poor Constantia! how much
Neither can I approve of those devout of human weakness dost thou yet retain !
rhapsodies, those spbrtings zeal, that,
of
You have much to do, my venerable
:holy dalliance with God, which swell the guide, much to do before you shall have
morning and evening devotions of many rendered your pupil as wise and as good as
pious Christians. These desultory effusions she ought to be.
are inconsistent with that reverence which , What means this uneasiness that hangs
is due to an Almighty Being.
upon my heart? Surely your letter, your
In short; let us, when we pray, be valuable letter, could not cause it. And
modest, humble, calm, and recollected ; yet I think, I had less pleasure from it
and let our forms of prayers be chaste, sub- than from any other that you have written
dued, concise and pertinent,
to me. Was it because you have not so
When we approach the Almighty, let often appealed
us
.not borrow our ideas of him from human name of our to me by je To endearing
Constantia?
you, my
characteristics: Let us remember, 'that Confessor, my guide, and friend, I can open
his ways are not our ways, neither are his all my weakness. What means this uneathoughts our thoughts;-that as much as siness that hangs upon my
heaven is higher than the earth, so much
are his ways higher than our ways, and his
CoNsTANCE.
thoughts than our thoughts.' This reflec.
tion will at all times teach us a becoming
LETTER XXXI.
reverence for our glorious Creator and
particularly, in our addresses to him, it
THEODOSIUS TO CONSTANTIA.
will suggest to us the impropriety of vain AMIABLEtenderness ! Dear Constantia
and impertinent declamation, of the oten- set your heartat ease. Exertyour reason
tatious effusions of fanatic impudence, and tax your fortitude ; call forth the nobler
importunate familiarities of forward i faculties of your mind, and charge them
Adieu! my Constantia.
May you ofer to assert their empire over the wayward
Adieu ! my Constantia May you offer passions.
up your prayers in an acceptable time!
While we are in this state of being, we
FRANcis.
must encounter difficulties, and struggle
with uneasiness. The heart will often be
LETTER XXX.
dissatisfied an idle spectator, asand uncon.
will stand we know not why, if reason
CONSTANTIA THEODOSIUS.
TO
scious of its power. In such cases it ought
Yto be awakened from its lethargy, and re.
oua letters displease me, my paternal minded of the task to which it is appointed,
friend, they make me displeased with my- It shoujd be informed of the high office it
Every page is a mirror that reflects bears in the economy of the soul, and
be
some circumstance of folly or ignorance in made acquainted with the insidious
vigi.
my past conduct. When I compare my lance of its enemies.
opinions and my practice with those which
But while we languish under the un.
you recommend, I am mortified with be- easiness of discontent, we cannot take a
holding some essential difference-But go more effectual method to recover our peace
on, dear cruel instructor, go on to humble than to consider the insignificancy of every
ihe proud heart of your Constantia--Make passion that centres, and pursuit that ter.

heart

!

the

self.

THEODOSIUS AND CONSTANrIA.
minates here. Suppose our earthly aims
were directed to their object by the favourmg gale of fortune; suppose our pursuits
should be crowned with all the success
that flattering hope assigns them, yetvain, changeable, and impotent as we are,
the success would not be worth a moment's
triumph. While the heart turns upon an
earthly axis, like the perishable ball that
it loves, it will be variously affected by
outward influences. Sometimes it will bear
the fruits of gladness, and sometimes be the
barren desert of melancholy; one while it
will be exhilarated by the sunshine of pleasure, and again it will languish in the gloom
of discontent.
The cause of this is, not
nly that the human heart is in itself
changeable and uncertain, deriving its sensations from constitutional influences, but
that the objects, if they are earthly objects,
on which it depends for happiness, are
liable to variation and decay.
Hence arises the superiority of religious
views. When our hopes of happiness are
fixed on one certain event; one event
which though remote, cannot be altered by
mortal contingencies, the heart has an in.
variable foundation whereon it may rest.
Without this resting place, we should be
' tossed to and fro with every wind' of fortune, the sport of chance, and the dupes of
expectation. To this immoveable anchor
of the soul religion directs us in the hopes
of immortality. We know from the unerring word of divine revelation that we
shall exist in another state of being, after
the dissolution of this; and we are confirmed by every benevolent purpose of
providence in the belief that our future
existence shall be infinitely happy. In this
glorious hope the interests of a temporary
life are swallowed up and lost. This hope,
like the serpent of Aaron, devours the
mock phantoms which are created by the
magic of this world, and at once shows the
vamty of every earthly pursuit.
Compared with this prospect, my Constantia, how poor, how barren would every
scene of mortal happiness appear! How
despicable at the best-yet how liable to be
destroyed by every storm of adversity ? For
are we not exposed to a thousand accidents,
the most trifling of which may be sufficient
to break a scheme of felicity? Let us con.
sider those conditions that are almost universally desired, the dignity of the great,
and the affluence of the rich. Are these
above the reach of misfortune? Are they
exempt from the importunities of care ?
Greatness is but the object of impertinence
end envy, and riches create more wants
than they are able to gratify. Should then
our wishes lead to these, we should una.
oidably be disappointed. The acquisition
might for a while soothe our vanity, but
ae should soon sigh for the ease of obscurity, and envy the content of those whom
pride would call our vassals.
If wealth or grandeur then cannot
afford us happiness, where shall we seek
it ? Is it to be found in the cell of the
hermit ? or does it watch by the taper of
solitary learning ? Loves it the society of

S7

laughing mirth ? or does it affect the
pensive pleasures of meditation ? Is it only
genuine in the cordiality of friendship, or
in the lasting tenderness of married love ?
Alas! my Constantia, this train of alternatives will not do. Should we fly from
the trouble of society to some lonely
hermitage, we should soon sigh for the
amusements of the world we had quarrelled
with. The strongest mind could not long
support the burden of uncommunicated
thought, and the firmest heart would languish in the stagnation of melancholy.
Ask the solitary scholar, if ever, in his
learned researches, he beheld the retreatof
happiness-Amusement is all that he will
pretend toAmusement! in quest of
which the active powers of the mind are
frequently worn out, the understanding
enervated by the assiduity of attention,
and the memory overburdened with unes.
sential ideas.
Yet, possibly, happinessmay mingle with
society, and swell the acclamations of fes.
tive mirth. No-the joy that dwells there
cannot be called happiness; for the noise of
mirth will vanish with the echo of the
evening, and 'even in laughter the heart
is sad.' If we are able to distinguish the
elegance of conversation, we shall often
be disgusted with the arrogance of pride,
or the impertinence of folly; and if not,
we may be amused indeed with the noise,
but can never taste the pleasures of society.
As little reason have we to hope for
lasting happiness from the engagements of
friendship or of love. The condition of
human life is at best so uncertain, that it
is even dangerous to form any connections
that are dear. The tenderness of love,
my Constantia, opens the heart to many
sufferings, to many painful apprehensions
for the health and safety of its object, and
many uneasy sensations both from real and
imaginary causes. It was from this conviction I told you, in the letter wherein I
first discovered myself to you, ' that the
love we have had for one another will
make us more happy in its disappoint.
ment, than it could have done in its
success.'
For want of a better remedy to these
evils, the wisdom of ancient philosophy
teacheth us to bid a brave defiance to the
assaults of pleasure and of pain. This
precept it urges with unremitting austerity ; without making any allowance
for particular tempers or circumstances
without instructing us how to behave to
the solicitations of joy or pleasure; how to
defend the heart from the inroad of sorrow,
or to guard against the unseen stratagems
of distress.
But the religion of a Christian affords a
noble and a safer refuge. With the exalted
hopes that this presents to us, 'the suffer.
ings of the present time are not worthy to
be compared.' In those glorious hopes let
us bury every anxious thought, the uneasiness of discontent, and the solicitude of
care. Let us not sink underour light afflie.
tions, which are but for a moment. A very
few years, perhaps a few months or days,

38

THEODOSIUS AND CONSTANTIA.

maybring us into that state of being, where
care and misery perplex no more. ' Though
we have now our bed in darkness and our
pillow on the thorn,' yet the time draweth
nigh when we shall taste of life without
anguish, and enjoy the light without 'bitterness of soul.' ' The night is far spent,'
my Constantia, ' the day is at hand ; let us
therefore gird up the loins of our mind, and
be sober'-no longer dissipated, or disturbed
with the troubles of this world. We are
hourly hasting to that scene of existence,
where the wicked cease from troubling
and where the weary are at rest;' where
hope shall nomore be cut off by disappointment, and where the distresses of time are
forgot in the joys of eternity.
FRANCIS.
LETTER XXXII.

as my own life. How many pleasing hours
have I passed in meditating on the future
felicity of our friendship ! How often, in
the luxury of imagination, have I con
sidered our united prayers ascending more
acceptably to the throne of everlasting
mercy! What joy did I promise myself,
what importance in the eye of friendship,
by communicating to my Sophia all the
instructions I had received from my Theodosius !
Oh my friend! my father! these hopes
are overthrown. Do I live to tell you by
what means ? Sophia, my tender, my
dear Sophia, is no more. The uneasiness
I expressed in my last proceeded probably
in some measure from my presentiments
of this cruel event. 1 am now very miserable, and in great need of your paternal
advice.
CONSTANCE.

CONSTANTIA TO THEODOSIU.

LETTER XXXIII.
Is it thus that you hope to reform your
Constantia? Do you think that you
THEODOSIUS CONSTANTIA.
TO
shall be able to effect this by letting her
foibles pass uncensured, and conveying As true friendship is one of the greatest
instruction to her in general terms ? Alas ! blessings of human life, our sorrow for
how little do you know of her petulant the loss of friends is more excusable than
and capricious heart ! It must be corrected most of our complaints. But, though it
with severity, and quieted by overbearing may be more venial, it is not more reareproof.
sonable than any other mode of misery
At present, indeed, it is sufficiently that has its origin in disappointment. Did
depressed. Your observations on the folly we think our friends immortal ? Did we
and vanity of expecting happiness in this not know, while we held them to our
world came to me at a time, when painful hearts, that we were embracing the proexperience convinced me of their truth.
perty of Death, who would sooner or later
After Theodosius was lost to me, I assert his claim ?
contracted a friendship with an amiable
Our resignation to this as well as to
and accomplished woman to whom my all other evils ought to be confirmed by
melancholy and my misfortunes served reflecting on the universal agency of proonly to endear me the more. Her good vidence. The author of the book of
sense and her compassion soothed and sup- Psalms furnishes us with excellent doctrine
ported me under all my sufferings. She on this subject We have scarce any where
left me not to the attacks of solitary dis- such striking pictures of human misery as
:ontent, but assiduously diverted my mind in that book. The royal writer has de)y the effbrts of elegant humour, polished scribed in the strongest colours the distresses
tense, and ingenious observation. As if and perplexities to which, as men, we are
;he had preferred the company of sorrow to subject. He has descended to the private
:very social amusement, even in that season dissatisfactions of the heart, and recounted
life when the heart of health and peace many circumstances of accidental calamity.
is always gay, she never forsook me during Hence it is that his writings are of general
.he last five unhappy years. She observed use. Of the distresses that are incident to
with unwearied vigilance the hour, when our being, though the prospect be gloomy
melancholy apprehensions was increased to it is necessary we should observe it; as he
the acuteness of grief. She then followed who must make his way through pitfalls
me into whatever privacy I sought; clasped and precipices, would choose a plan of the
me to her faithful bosom, and if, under road he was to travel, rather than march
the agonies of terror and anguish, tears blindly forward without knowledge and
refused their assistance, she solicited, and without caution.
)btained them by her infectious tenderness.
But these are not all the instructions
When, at last, I determined to take the which the Psalmist affords us. We are
veil, and had obtained my father's consent seldom presented with an afflicted prospect
o forsake the world for ever, her affection of life without being directed to the means
followed me in that final resolution. She of comfort. We are told that, however
waited only for an approaching oppor- great the causes of our affliction may be,
tunity to settle her worldly affairs, after they are subject to the wise directions of a
which she intended to have made one of Being benevolent to man, and that, though
our sisterhood, and to have passed the re.- 'heaviness may endure for a night, joy
maining part of her life with her Con.- cometh in the morning.' The doctrine of
stantia.
an universal providence, which is the only
Upon this event my heart reposed. I source of consolation under every species
foresaw in this a scene of happiness that I of misery, is asserted through this whole
cculd not be equalled upon earth, and I book with the greatest confidence of cer.
flattered myself that it would be as lasting tainty.

)f

THEODOSIUS AND CONSTANTIA.
SWho is like unto the Lord our God,.
who hath his dwelling so high, and yet
humbleth himself to behold the things that
are in heaven and earth ?
'Thou shalt show us wonderful things
in thy righteousness, O God of our salvation ! Thou that art the hope of all the
ends of the earth, and of them that remain
inthe broad sea.
'They also that dwell in the uttermost
parts of the world shall attend to thy
tokens-Thou that makest the outgoings
of the morning and the evening to praise
thee.'
In this belief of the universal agency of
providence the Psalmist places the remedy
of moral and natural evil.
'Should 1 find trouble and heaviness,
I will call upon the name of the Lord.
O Lord, I beseech thee, deliver my
soul !
' The Lord preserveth the innocent: I
was in misery, and he helped me.
'The proud, 0 Lord, have had me exceedingly in derision; but I remembered
thy everlasting judgments, and received
comfort.'
The last sentiment ought to be engraven
upon the hearts of all the children of affliction.
Let us remember that God is the supreme governor of the universe; that
under his direction is the whole system
of nature, by him animated, connected,
supported. Let us consider that the
agency of man in this system is only
moral. The economy of life is committed
to him so far as it may exercise his moral
will. But the events of his actions are
finally under the determination of the Almighty. Were not He to direct the natural course of this world, even in those
circumstances of it that are or may be
affected by the moral power of man,
oldercouldno more be preserved in the
universe, than it could at first result from
chanoe, or be formed -by the direction of
fallible beings.
This consideration, that the supreme
Power has in his own hands the economy
of the world, ought to engage our resignation under every circumstance of life:
For, should we quarrel with the dispensations him who gave us being? Should
of
we dispute the regulations of that power,
who has provided the means of this day's
subsistence, and without whose favour and
protection we could no longer exist? Is
not he who made the world best able to
govern it? Has not he who gave us this
being a right to resume it?
What mean, then, the pangs of disappointrment ? What mean the languishing
complaints of sorrow? The tears
that flow
for buried virtue, and the sighs that mourn
for parted friendship?
But to these questions you will say others
may be opposed. You will ask if these
emotions ought to be excluded from the
human heart, when they are evidently the
effect of nature ? You will enquire whether
the God of nature would plant affections
in his creatures, which to stifle would be a
virtue?

39

To these questions I would reply, that
those affections for the objects of this
world, which we have received with our
being, may be indulged; but under certain
limitations. Let us always consider the
end of such affections. Certainly it could
not be to create us misery, when those ob.
Jects are no more; for that would be indirectly to repine at the dispensations of him
who has removed them from us.
The voice of nature will be heard, and
our tears will flow when our dearest connections are broken. In this we only act
like men: But when sorrow is longindulged, it becomes criminal; for then we
tamely give ourselves up to those passions
which it is our duty to restrain, and act
in petulant opposition to the decrees of
providence.
Human life must have many avenues to
sorrow and anxiety, while we are concerned for the welfare of those objects which
have engaged our affections, or the success
of those schemes on which all our wisdom
has been employed. The duty of resignation, therefore, like every other that is enjoined us, is calculated to promote our own
happiness. When we remember the ever.
lasting
judgments of God, we may reasonably be filled with comfort inevery event.
'Itis the Lord; let him do what seemeth unto him good. It is the Lord, the
Lord God, merciful and gracious, slow to
anger, abundant in oodness, and in truth.
'Why should ye say unto my soul, that
she should flee as a bird unto the hill?
Behold the Lord, the Lord of Hosts is my
refuge; the God of Jacob is on my right
hand.'
Under such confidence ash this, what
have we to fear, and for what should we
sigh? That misfortunes seemed to counteract our schemes of happiness, and that the
prospects of hope are cut off by disappointment, we might mourn indeed, were this
the only scene of our existence, and were
our views terminated by our departure
from it. That human knowledge is often
inadequate to the purposes of life, anl
always imperfect, would be a melancholy
consideration, werq it not attended witla
the prospect of an existence, where know..
ledge as well as happiness shall flow from:
the fountain of infinite perfection.
This reflection might, one shoul. think,
be sufficient to set our hearts at easewith
respect to temporary misfortunes, but still
more powerful will be the motives to resignation, when we consider that the Father
of heaven has not only promised us a safe
retreat at last from our afflictions, but tc
support us under them.
These things have I said unto you, that
in me ye might have peace.: in the world
ye shall have tribulation.
' Are not two sparrows sold for a far.
thing ? and one of them fAlleth not to the
ground without the *perhiission of my
Father who is in heaves.. Are not ye of
more value than many sparrows.?'.
That man in the system of nature has a
peculiar regard showa him, it would be
superfluous to observe, None of us canbe
so iOlindto the bouities we enjol;
me
EE

nor

40

-THEODOSWUS AND CONSTANTIA.

the eminent prerogatives by which we are O'er all his works,
immortal I Let them wake
those happier eis,
ut
may
distinguished. distiguised. nferthatas te Th graefulstanonce more, the hotie chain
ButImayinferthataste Whom
from
favour of the Almightyis so evidently seen Of old his hand rescued
captivity Fromclimesremote,
l

in man, his confidence in him, under every From the first openings of the orient day,
circumstance of life, ought to be in propor. From Hesper's silver flood-gates,
fromstar
the
tion. If he is distinguished by the light of That hoots its pale says o'er the shivering earth,
reason, he ought not surely to make that
rans
sores, his pu
estc
an instrument to censure the perfec- Through wild woods unfreqsested; log; nor
tion from which iton providence.
flows-yet discontent is ity, orsafe abode till nature sunk
[found
kind of censure o proidene.
iteaethe weakly.
faint pulse
a kid ofcensre
01 life heat
Then with humble prayer
Alas ! my dear Constantia, howmistaken To Heaven theyturn'd rpentsnt, norunheard.
is the man, how much an enemy to his Eternal Mercy led the wanderers forth
own happiness, who confides not in the To habitable towns, and safe abodes.

'Theirscat

light

measures, nor resigns to the dispensations
of his Creator! He robs himself at once

O

for

thesprtoexlepai,

To blazhe
t exaltedpviise
of
Those boundless
merciesthatembracemankind !

T

of that sovereign remedy of evil, reliance
on a superior power. He is involved in
They, thwhosejyles
hods
calamities without the alleviation of hope, Grim darkness hovers;shade, who lonely dwell
they afflicted, bound
In death's uncheerful
and subject to misfortunes without redress. In cold imprisoning chains, the sad reward
But happy, above all names of happi- Of impious daring, and rebellious deeds,
ness, is he who with grateful humility sub- When eav Justice, with her radiant arm,
mit tothedetrmiatinsGod. heSmites their proud hearts; eoenthey, by humble
f
mits to the determinations of Gd. Tprayer,
vicissitudes of fortune cannot distress him._ Unfold sweetMercy's
easy-sliding
gatoo;

He is secure in the care of Almighty
Goedness. Nature may shrink back from

Their iron bondage bursts, and forth they rust

From death's dim shadow la the golden day.
0 far ins spirit of exalted praise,
the stroke of
but the conflict
To blaonnhigh those acts of power divine,
that is supported by hope can neither be
Those boundless
mercies that embraceomankind
long nor paitifid.
Wh ar Why o fll o hevines.,
hus ulofhaies
otty'svain votaries,
fromdisorder
wild,
hou rt
Andmad intemperance, reaping painful fruits,
my sol, and why art thou so disquieted Disease and languor, to the dreary door
within
Trust itt God,'
Of death move trembling.-.Then with hausble
The great object of hts hope, the perfect T evnprayer repentant, nor unheard.
THevnthey
turn

affliction,

me?

happiness of a future existence, he knows,

Health's rosy tight relumes the languid

cheek,
cannot be very distantt-that he has but to And Ruin quits his medicated
prey.
travel a few days longer tiil he reach the
O for the spirit of exalted praise,
mansions of everlasting rest, where the
powerdivine,
mankintd
Those boundless mercies that
mrtalty sall To blazonhigh thoseactsof embracestrain,
miere miseies nd ffmraiyshl
an elusons
euin
Let tnan forevet wakethe grateful
vanish, and 'sorrow and mourning shall
The sacrifice reason;ever sing
of
fleecaway.' Adieu, my Constantia ! Think
His Maker's works,and triumph in the tong.

of these things and be happy.

Fai-S.

LETTER XXXIV.
TsEODOStuS TOcoNrANTIA.
WtOtU waiting any return to my last, I
once more sit down to write to you. I
would in some measure imitate that dear
and valuable friend you have lost, whose
assiduous tenderness, you ay, would never
leave you to the attacks of solitary sorrow.
This was wisely done when your grief had
continued unreasonably long, but I am
always of opinion that under the first
stages of sorrow the mind should be left to
itself; and would our common rules per.
mit me to visit you, I should decline it
till the violence of your grief subsided
The objection, however, does not lie with
the same force. against writing to you.
We can better hear the sentiments of our
friends, when they aranot personally

nesses to our weakness.

wit

My design at present is not to instruct
iut to amuse you. I therefore send you
poetry instead of philosophy, or rathier
deed, philosophy harmonized; for the sen..
timental part of the following composition
Is
truly noble.

in-

PSALM CVIL.
Tweonte more wake the steain o1fgrateful praise,
To~thsat
sennal Power,whose
mercq sines

The bold adventurers on the stormy breast
Of ocean, tenants of the wateryworld,

Mack in the mighty waste of seas and skies,
Magnificence divine. At his command
The swift wind sweeps the billows; up they rise
Infuriate to the vault of heaven, then dawn
'recipitately steep, disparting, ope
The vast abysa voracious. Ah where then,
Weak marinem, your hopes? Then the heart
"faints.
Fromside to side they tan, they reel, they fall,
Inebriate with confusion. Nought remains
Hut trembling prayer, the lust appealto Heaven.
Nor vain the last appeal
Already see!
The rapid storm subsides, and the wave sleeps.
Alert within the merry sailor's heart
Sprins hope; andsoon hehails the welcome port.
0 for the'spirit of exalted praise,
To blazon high those acts of powerdivine,
Those boundlessmerciesthatembracesmunkind.l

!

From the full choir of undisigujish'd crowis,

From Wisdom's chosen synod, crown'd with
years,
To him for ever flow collective praise!

wild

Wheretan
sweetnessurosethe sallyinggspring,,
Where spread the copious river, where displayd
The vale its verdant honours, barren lies
A dry waste, mark of Heaven's avenging hand;
When sacred Justice spoke the doom of guilt.
But lo! where once the dry waste barren lay,
There in wild sweetness flows the sallying spring,
There spreads the mopiousriver, there displays
The vale its verdant honours; hamlets fair,
Rich harvests, blushing vitneyards, goldenfruits,
And flocks abundant, the long famish'd swain,
Beholds delighted.

Heaven's

peculiar

core

Are all affliction's children, :Wben the yoke
Of stemn oppression sinks the weary heart,
Perish the stern oppressors; law in dust,
.Low lies each princely head; while gusrdeduafe,
As flocks reposing in themr
evening fold,
The peasant dleeps in peace.
sight of jtp

0

THEODOSIUS AND CONSTANTIA.
To faithful piety; of conscious pai

Arid keen conviction, to the heart of guilt!
This, this is Wisdom's lesson, to explore

The active schemeof Providence; to learn
His love divine; and, learning, to confide.

There is no employment so delightful to
a devout mind as this attention to the visible administration of providence. To con.
template the Creator of the universe in the
magnificence of his works, enlarges and
elevates the soul-lifts it above the impertinence of vulgar cares, and gives it a kind
of heavenly pre-existence. To consider
the benevolent purposes for which he called forth this variety and multitude of being, that comes under our cognizance,
must be a perpetual source of comfort. A
rational creature, that is conscious of deriving its existence from a being of infinite
goodness and power, cannot properly entertain any prospect but of happiness. By
the imperfection of its nature it may fall
into temporary evils, but these cannot
justly be the subject of complaint, when
we reflect that this very imperfection was
necessary to a probatory life, and that
without it, there could neither have been
virtue, nor the rewards of virtue. Every
degree of excellence depends upon comparison. Were there no deformity in the
world, we should have no distinct ideas of
beauty: Were there no possibility of vice,
there would be no such thing as virtue;
and were the life of man exempt from
misery, happiness would be a term of which
he could not know the meaning. Adieu!
Be wise and happy.
FRANCIs.
LETTER XXXV.
CONSTANTIA THODOSIUS,
TO
IF I could pronounce my heart to be petfectly at ease, you would have the only
reward you desire for your paternal care.
But shall I, on the contrary, avow my in.
gratitude ? Shall I own that this obstinate,
this petulant heart is not yet at rest?
Could it oppose itself to the united efforts
of reason and religion? Would it neither
be soothed by harmony, nor silenced by
philosophy? Vain incorrigible heart !
Indeed, my venerable friend, I must not
dissemble with you: I have not yet recovered my former peace. And yet why?
I have the same confidence in theadministration of Providence. I believe as much
in his goodness, as much in his wisdom. I
attend with the same readiness, on the
duties of religion, and offer up my prayers
with the same affiance. I agree to every
conclusion you have drawn either from
moral-or religious arguments. I acknowledge the propriety, the duty of resigna.tion under every circumstance of affliction,
and yet 1 am afflicted. I see the absurdity
of grief, yet I am grieved. What can I do
more? I submit entirely to the dispensations of providence. My will submits. I
do not wish to call my departed friend to
life: But this submission does not clearmy
heart of sorrow. Surely it has some connections which are not obedient to the will,

41

and from which it derives nvoluntary
pleasure or pain Is not this true We
experience it in all instances of affection;
We are sensible of attachments we cannot

account for; and as those attachments are
facilitated or interrupted, we are happy or
miserable independently of reason or the
will. If these observations are founded
upon truth and nature, I hope I shall stand
excused both before you, and at a higher
tribunal, for those tears that have fallen
over the grave of my Sophia.
Think not that I implicitly gave myself
up to the dominion of my sorrow. I have
been too well acquainted with it not to
know by what means its influence is increased or abated. I do not deepen the
gloom of melancholy by solitary reflection;
I seek the society of the sisterhood, and
endeavour to enter into their amusements,
as well as to join their devotions. In those
hours when I must necessarily be alone, if
the uneasiness of my heart hinders the ap.
proach of sleep, I have recourse to my
books; till at last the weariness of attention prevails over the force of sorrow, and
procures me that rest, which the latter
would have prevented.
In the course of this reading I have met
with many things on which I wanted to
consult you, but most of them have escaped me. Some of these, however, I remember. In a book of divinity, which, I suppose, must have been written by one of the
heresy of Calvin, the author asserts that
the ' Almighty has appointed a day of grace
to every man, beyond which there can be
no remission of sin.'* I must own I was
startled by this assertion, as it seemed to
me to be very consequential. The following, I think, were some of the texts on
which he founded this belief.
'Seek ye the Lord, while he may be
found; call ye upon him, while he is near,
'Oh, that thou hadst known, even thou,
in this thy day, the things that belong
unto thy peace! But now they are hid
from thine eyes. ' Again, he limiteth a
day, saying, To-day, if ye will hear his
voice, harden not your hearts.'
In another part of his book he maintains
that it is impossible for those who fall into
sin, after having once been converted, to
repent, or to be saved.- This doctrine he
supports by the following passage in the
epistle to the Hebrews:
' It is impossible for those who were
once enlightened, and have tasted of the
heavenly gift, and were made partakers of
the Holy Ghost, and have tasted the good
word of God, and the powers of the world
to come; if they shall fall away, to renew
them again unto repentance: seeing they
crucify to themselves the Son of God
afresh, and put him to open shame.'
To this passage he adds another, selected
from the same book.
' If we sin wilfully after we have received the knowledge of the truth, there remaineth no more sacrifice for sins, but a
Many of our modern Fanatics, Methodist
&c.hold this doctrine,
t This is another doctrine of Fanaticism.
EE2

42'

THEODOSIUS AND CONSTANTIA.

certain fearful looking for of judgment,
and fiery indignation which shall devour
the adversaries. He that despised Moses'
law died without mercy, under two or three
witnesses. Of how much sorer punishment, suppose ye, shall he be thought
worthy, who hath trodden under foot the
Son of God, and hath counted the blood of
the covenant, wherewith he was sanctified,
an unholy thing, and hath done despite to
the Spirit of grace ?'
I must own these texts appeared to me
'o 'make very strongly for his argument;
and yet if these doctrines were generally
received, I think they would open more
avenues to despair: for many Christians,
I fear, must have sinned wilfully after repentance and conversion. But, possibly, I
do not behold these Scriptures in a right
point of view. Let me hope for your kind
instructions; and pray for your
CONSTANTIA.

LETTER XXXVI.
rO CONSTANTIA.
THEODOSIUS

You do well to amuse yourself by books
and company; that amusement will divert
your melancholy more effectually than any
precepts of philosophy.
But what shall I say to your controversial studies ? Shall I praise you for wearying your eyes over the pages of Calvinistic
dreamers;-for honouring with your attention the groundless doctrines of narrow
sighted far:atics; who either from want of
knowledge or of candour, or more probably from want of both, have seized a limb
of a text, and without attending either to
the writer's design, or to the analogy of
his reasoning, have founded upon the mere
letter, doctrines that dishonour their God !
Such, and so founded, are those you have
mentioned.
That God hath appointed a certain
period in the life of man, beyond which he
will not extend his grace to him, is a doctrine which is so far from having any
foundation either in reason or revelation,
that it is repugnant to the first, and totally
unsupported by the latter.
The texts which your author has pro.
duced in support of his opinion, have no
nanner of connection with it.
'Seek ye the Lord, while he may be
Found : call ye upon him, while he is near.'
The whole chapter from which this paskage is taken, refers to the time of the
Messiah's first appearance. The prophet
bre-ks out into raptures upon the view of
;hat glorious era ; and apostrophizes to
the people that should then be born, exho ting them not to lose the happy oppor.tunity of making an interest with the Re.
Aemer while he was personally present
,with them.
'0 tl)at thou hatdst known, even thou,
in this thy day, the things that belong unto
thy peace! but now they are hid from
thine eves.'
This is Christ's apostropheto Jerusalem,
when he foretold its approaching destruction. But what has this to do with the'

universal dispensation of grace?
The
words are particularly applicable to the oc.
casion on which they were spoken, and to
the object whereunto they were addressed.
'Unhappy city! I wish thou knewest,
this thy day, while thou art yet undestroyed, while I am present with thee, the
or
things that belong
unto thy peace, thy everlasting peace, the mercies of redemption ;
but now they are hid from thine eyes; at
this time thou perceivest them not.'
Or possibly thy peace may signify, thy
temporal peace, and preservation from
thine enemies, which interpretation the
following verse seems to favour. 'But
now they are hid from thine eyes. Because the days will come upon thee, when
thine enemies,' &c.
I incline to this
sense; but whether this or the other be
the true one, is quite immaterial to the
economy of grace.
Let us now consider the last Scripture
which your author has adduced in favour
of his doctrine.
SAgain he limiteth a day, saying, Today, if ye will hear his voice.'
The author of the epistle tothe Hebrews,
in the chapter from whence this passage is
taken, endeavours to prove the certainty of
that final rest which still remained to the
people of God. Thus he forms his argument; ' That there is a rest for the people
of God into which they have not yet
entered, appears from that prophetic psalm
of David, which alludes to the time of
Christ's appearance upon earth. The prophet referring to that time, saith, To-day,
if ye will hear his voice. You see he is
determinate as to the point of time; he
limiteth or setteth apart a day: Wherefore
from this passage it is apparent, that for
you, Hebrews, for you the descendants of
those who provoked God in the wilderness,
and were not permitted to enter into his
rest, a final rest still remains, to which you
are invited.'
'hus it is, my Constantia, that the dis.
ciples of ignorance, folly and fanaticism,
by disjoining and misconstruing the Scrip.
tures, contrive their absurd doctrines,
For instance, the tenet above-mentioned.
Is it consistent with the justice or the goodness of God, who has appointed to man a
life of probation, to limit the advantages,
which, in his mercy, he has vouchsafed to
him, to a shorter term than his life?
While he leaves him still to contend with
the enemies of his salvation, will he deprive him of his principal support, the aid
of his grace?-his grace, which he has
promised to those that ask it, without ex.
ceptior, and without limitation ?
I have done with the first tenet of your
author; let us now see whether the second
be better
founded.
It is impossible, he maintains, for those
who fall into sin, after having once been
converted, to repent or to be saved. This
opinion he supports by two passages from
the epistle to the Hebrews. Without mak.
ing any remarks on the infallibility of that
epistle as a rule of faith, without taking
notice of the difficulty and the late day of
its admission among the canonical books

in

THEODOSIUS AND CONSTANTIA.
I shall show you that your author has
made the passages he has selected from
What the
that book prove too much.
writer of the epistle means by falling away
in the first passage, and by sinning wilfully
in the last, is the denial of the faith they
had professed, and openly apostatizing
from it. This is clear from the conclusion
of both the passages. Those whofall away
are said 'to crucify to themselves the Son
of God afresh, and to put him to open
shame.' And he who sinneth wilfully is represented 'to have trodden under foot the
Son of God, to have counted the blood of
the covenant, wherewith he was sanctified,
an unholy thing, and to have done despite
to the Spirit of grace.'
From hence it appears that for a downright apostate there is no hope of repentance or remission of sins. But your author has not confined this terrible denunciation to open apostacy. According to
him, none who have fallen into sin after
conversion are capable of being renewed by
repentance, or saved by the redemption of
Christ. This doctrine is equally unscrip.
tural, and unreasonable.
Should man, circumstanced as he is, be
exposed by frailty to final punishment, or
reduced, by accidentally falling into vice, to
irretrievable ruin, he might either turn
from the race that is set before him in
hopeless despondence, or vainly contend
with danger and disgrace. The pilgrimage
of human life is infinitely troublesome and
perplexed. Dangers there are and difficulties which all must encounter, which can
neither be eluded by vigilance, nor annihilated by contempt.
A just man, says the author of the book
of Proverbs, falleth seven times, and riseth
again. In this place a certain is put for an
uncertain number; seven times being
among the Jews an indefinite expression
used to signify any moderate number.
Our Saviour himself being asked how
oft a brother should offend and be entitled
to forgiveness, and whether or not till
seven times, answered, 'not until seven
times, but till seventy times seven.' From
this passage we have the utmost reason to
hope that whenever man shall effectually
repent, the divine goodness will be ready
to forgive him. For if we are commanded
to receive into favour an offending brother,
however frequently he may have trespassed
against us, shall not our heavenly Father
in like manner be ready to receive such as
turn unto him? Shall God recommend
such a conduct to man as he should not
admit in himself? Are we not told that the
repentance of a sinner is unexceptionably
so acceptable to the Almighty, that the
angels in heaven rejoice, and congratulate
their supreme and affectionate Creator o.
an event so agreeable to his gracious mind ?
The prodigal in the gospel returns not
to his father till he had finished his course
of riot, which was interrupted by nothing
but his power to pursue it. He returns
not till compelled by necessity, and therefore his repentance was not a voluntary
virtue. But, behold, his father meets him

43

while yet a great way off, and precludes
his apologies by the most endearing reception. We have not, indeed, any account
of a relapse in the accepted prodigal; but
we are told that before the execution of
his repentance, he said unto himself, ' How
many hired servants of my father have
bread enough, and to spare, while I perish
with hunger ?' Some such reflections he
must frequently have made, when reduced
to distress, and again probably must have
quitted them from various motives.
We want not, however, this instance
to prove that a sinner may be restored to
favour after falling away from his former
resolutions and professions of obedience.
The example of Peter is a sufficient proof
in this case. To this I shall add another
which, though not of scriptural authority,
is respectable, and very much to the present purpose.
Eusebius tells us, that St. John, during
his ministration to the western churches,
cast his eye upon a young man remarkable
for the extent of his knowledge, and the
ingenuousness of his mind. The aged
apostle thought that he had discovered in
him a useful instrument for the propagation of Christianity. Accordingly he
took particular pains to convert him, and
to instruct him in the divine doctrines of
his great Master. That he might be still
better acquainted with the system of
(Christianity, at his departure, he recomniended him to the care of a pious old
father, who had some authority in the
infant church. The youth continued a
while in the duties of his new profession,
and attended with care to the lectures of
his venerable tutor. But his former associates, when they found themselves deserted
by him, were grieved at the success of the
apostle, and exerted their utmost efforts
to regain so useful and so entertaining a
companion. They succeeded in their attempts, and the father was forsaken. The
apostle after some time returned to those
parts, and 'where,' said he, with impatience, to his aged friend, 'where, my
fellow-labourer, is my favourite youth ?'
' Alas !' replied the good old man, with
tears in his eyes, ' he is fallen, irrecoverably fallen : he has forsaken the society of
the Saints, and is now the leader of a gang
of robbers in the neighbouring mountains.'
Upon hearing this unexpected and unpleasing account, the Apostle forgot his sufferings and his years, and hastened to the
place of rendezvous, where, being seized by
some of the band, he desired to speak with
their Captain. The Captain being told
that a strange pilgrim asked to be admitted
to him, ordered him to be brought before
him. But when he beheld the venerable
Apostle, his hopes of amusement were
changed into shame and confusion, and the
hardy leader of a band of robbers trembled
before a poor unarmed old man. He quitted
once more the society of wickedness, and
lived and died in the service of his Redeemer.
From hence it is evident, that a relapse
after repentance or conversion, was not

44

THEODOSIUS AND CONSTANTIA.

looked upon by the primitive Christians,
nor yet by the apostles themselves, as any
means of excluding the future mercies of
God.
An utter apostacy, an entire desertion
of the faith we have professed, and a con.
temptuous rejection of the grace we have
received, may, according to the author of
the epistle to the Hebrews, render us incapable of repentance, and utterly disqualify us for the future mercies of God.
But sins inferior to these will not reduce us
to the same dreadful circumstances. Our
Creator 'knoweth whereof we are made,
he remembereth that we are but clay; and
.though we may fall, yet we shallnot be cast
away, since he upholdeth us with his hand.'
God preserve you, my amiable friend !
-- preserve and direct you through the un-certain paths of this world, till you arrive
at the realms of everlasting rest; till your
innocent, your happy spirit shall quit,
without a sigh, the tender frame that
confines it, and rise, conducted by some
smiling Angel, to the blessed society of
good men made perfect!
Adieu !
LETTER XXXVII.
CONSTANTIATO THEODOSIUS.

TaE everlasting doors of futurity are
thrown open--The race of life is almost
run, and this, probably, is the last time
that your Constantia will have the happiness of pouring out her heart to you.-I
am seized with the first symptoms of that
pestilential fever, which has been so universally fatal, that it brings with it ahnost
the certainty of death. Now, therefore,
before my faculties are overcome by the
disease, I devote to you one hour more of
a life inwhich you have had so great an interest.
In a situation like this it is natural to
lookback, and to takea view of the country
through which we have travelled, before
we lose sight of it for ever. The ways
through which I have walked, though in
many circumstances peculiar, and unlike
the allotment of others, have yet, like
others, been various, and different in the
different periods of the journey. Before
my present illness I drew up a short view
of my life, part of which I will now transcribe, that with you it may serve as an
apology for my conduct when I shall be
no more.

An Apology the
for
Life of Sister Constance,
written by herself, and addressed to FatherFrancis.
You know how early I lost the best and
most affectionate of mothers. That was
a misfortune which, though then only bewailed with tears which had no meaning,
left behind it a cloud that overshadowed
the rest of my life. Had my infant years
been trained by her, I should have acquired
the habits of virtue from the influence of
example. The want of this was much to
be lamented, for there is a happy contagion

in the power of living excellence, which,
while we admire, we necessarily imitate.
Those virtues which we draw from precept
or speculation are seldom more than speculative, but those which we derive insensibly from the imitation of exemplary characters become lasting and habitual. But,
besides the loss of a happy and an excellent
pattern of every female virtue, I was deprived at th same time of those maternal
cares, those tender assiduities that watch
over the young mind, accelerate the progress of reason, and supply the want of
experience byprecept. Of these advantages
I was wholly destitute, for my father, mattentive to every thing but the acquisition
of wealth, thought but little of the ima.
provement of his daughter; or, if he
thought of it at all, concluded that she
would necessarily improve in proportion to
the advancement of her fortune.-Accord.
ingly I was abandoned to thecommon forms
of female education, without those private
attentions, those exemplary influences,
which are of infinitely greater importance
than all general instructions.
Thus unapprehensive and uninformed
in the first thoughtless advances from child
hood to maturity, is it to be wondered that
the amiable and accomplished Theodosius
should find an easy admittance to a heart
where every passion was awake, all unguarded, and none restrained ?
But the severity of wisdom itself (pru
dence you have told me is but the ape of
wisdom) could have had few objections
against the passion that I entertained. For
did it not receive a sanction from the object? What did I admire in Theodosius ?
Was it a symmetry of features? Was it
not the piercing genius and the cultivated
mind? While his knowledge enlightened,
his sensibility charmed me; and while at
once he taught my heart and my mind to
expand, is it to be wondered that he made
room for himself? The powers of genius
have an irresistible charm for taste; and
while Theodosius was forming the mind
of Constantia, he was cherishing a plant
which, like the gourd of Jonah, as soon
as it sprung up, would stretch its arms to
embrace him.
When this intercourse of growing ten.
derness was at an end, when the obstinacy
of ridiculous pride divided the families of
Theodosius and Constantia, what did I
not feel from the apprehension of being
separated from the man I loved? Pride,
however, came in to my aid; I shed a few
angry tears, and commanded my heart to
be at ease.-But, alas! I soon found that
Teodosius was dearer to me than I ima
gined-yet-even, with this conviction, by
the united influences of pride, and fear, and.
shame, my natural attachments to himnt
were overborne; and without consulting
either my happiness or my inclination, I
had the infatuation to acquiesce with that
proposal of my fatherwhich banished Theo.
dosius.
This was the most culpable circumstance
of my life-a fault which indeed brought
its punishment along with it, and for which

THEODOSIUS AND CONSTANTIA.
the miseries of one period, and the penitence of another, have I hope made an
adequate atonement.
The years that passed between that event
and my admission into this holy retreat
were miserably worn away between the
languor of melancholy, and the acuteness
ofgrief--yet that plaintive and unresigned
state of mind was not, I trust, accompanied
with any great degree of guilt, since it
was not at the dispensations of providence
that I murmured, but at the supposed con.
sequences of my own folly. That I refused
with resolute indignation the man, to
whom, before, I had been so weak as not
to deny my hand, was not enough to make
satisfaction to my own heart. While I
considered Theodosius as dead, and myself
as in some measure the cause of his death,
between the grief of affection, and the in.
quietude of conscience, I was at length
reduced to the most pitiable state both of
body and mind; the one emaciated with
sorrow and watching, and the faculties of
the other almost sunk in stupefaction.
Great distresses are the spectres of the
mind, and, as it is fabled of the ghosts of
self-murdered bodies, they hover o'er the
scene where their object is intombed. Business and amusement, society and solitude
were alike impressed with the image of
Theodosius-The painful idea pursued me
through every avocation, nor could I find
a retreat from it in the bosom of friendship
-- The sympathizing heart of my Sophia
added new softness to my own, and the
tenderness of her friendship made me feel
more sensibly the loss of Theodosius.
At last that dear lamented friend, with
some few more that pitied and regarded
me, applied to my father for his permission
that I might retire into a convent. Their
generosity procured me what the voice of
nature and the tears of duty had solicited in
vain, and by the irresistible offer of discharging the fees of my admission, they
prevailed on the father of Constantia that
she might be permitted to take the veiL
Since I entered upon the conventual
life, my conduct has been too well known
to you, if not to need an apology, at least
to be enlarged upon here. But after those
aspirations of gratitude that rise to heaven,
after those truly grateful sentiments which
1 must ever entertain for those beneficent
friends who procured my establishment in
this place-what words shall I find expressive of that gratitude which is due to
Father Francis ?-that tender, that affbctionate father, who has nursed my mind
with those paternal assiduities, which
were somewhat above the most perfect nature of man; which could only flow from a
heart, where human sensibility was exalted
and refined by the immortal graces, and
where God himself elevated and expanded
that philanthropy which he loves.
To the ever venerable Father Francis I
owe the greatest moral blessings that are
attainable in this world, peace of conscience, and rectitude of reason. For the
recovery of the first, indeed, little more
was necessary than the certainty that

Theodosius was alive and happy ; but the

45

consolations of the father added to the pre.
sence of the friend, replaced that quiet in
my heart to which it had been so long a
stranger. Those consolations, however,
were not more soothing, than the lessons
that attended them were instructive. While
from those I derived content and comfort,
from these I received the lights of truth
and reason, and was taught to look up with
an intelligent adoration to that Being whose
essence is GOODNESS and WiSDOM. From
the consideration of these distinguishing at.
tributes, whenever he shall resume that life
which he gave me, I shall resign it into his
hands without sorrow, and without fear.
*

With difficulty I had written thus far,
when the importunity of my disorder obliged me to lay down the pen. I have now resumed it, and will bear it as long as I am
able, for while I hold but even an ideal
conversation with you, the sense of pain is
suspended. Other than bodily pain I have
none. The presumption with which my
apology concluded, I find, was not vain.
I am perfectly indifferent to the approach
of death, and agreeably to the kind wish
with which you once concluded a letter,
I trust that my spirit shall quit, without
a sigh, the frame that confines it.'
To you, my dearest friend, my most
venerable father, loved by every dear, and
respected by every sacred name, to you,
under the gracious appointments of Providence, I owe this happy serenity. By
giving me proper ideas of the author of
nature, and the obligations of his creatures,
you have taught me to look on death as
one of his best gifts, and on all beyond it
without any apprehension.
Behold here the reward of your pious
labours ! Behold with pleasure the resignation of a mind that you strengthened, of
a heart that you armed against yourself !
' My heart was grieved, and it went even
through my reins.
' So foolish was I and ignorant, even as
it were an irrational
creaturebefore thee.
' Nevertheless I am always by thee, for
thou hast holden me by my right hand.
' Thou shalt guide me with thy counsel,
and after that receive me in glory.
'Whom shall I have in heaven but thee,
for there is none upon earth that I desire
in comparison of thee? My flesh and my
heart faileth, but God is the strength of my
heart, and myportion for ever!'"
And now, dearest, and most revered of
men, farewell!--Whether we shall meet
again in any future allotment of being, is
amongst the sacred counsels of Providence
-I trust we shall.-Till then indulge one
tender farewell from your Constantia!-Accept one pious, one grateful adieu frow
CoNsrTAc
LEYTTER XXXVIIL

*

THEODOSIUS CONSTANTIA.
TO
Ot m Constantia
LET not my Constantia be alarmed when
be alarmed when
* This last letter of Constantia, and the answer
of Theodosius seem to have been written some
LET

years after the preceding letters.

46

THEODOSIUS AND CONSTANTIA.

she sees that this letter is written by ano.Let not that fortitude with
ther hand !which she has so greatly supported her
own sufferings be dissolved in weakness
for her friend: nor that noble tranquillity,
with which she beholds the approach of
death, be disturbed when she is told that
his hand is on Theodosius. I doubt not
that the eternal Providence, who, in his
wisdom, interwove the interests and the
passions of our lives, has, in his goodness,
determined that they shall close together.
If this be one of his gracious dispensations,
I receive it not only with -submission, but
with gratitude.-What more could I desire of the divine Beneficence than that,
delivered from this prison of earth, I might
accompany the spirit of my Constantia to
the regions of everlasting happiness, to
some more perfect appointment in the scale
of being, where the immortal faculties
shall be refined from human frailty; and
where the powers of the soul shall be expanded by a nearer approach to that perfection, from which they are derived. Animated with hopes, and supported by sentiments like these, let us wait without fear
the approach of death, and receive him
gladly, because he cometh as a friend.Indulge, my Constantia, the pleasing hope
that our souls will know each other in
their future allotment. The pure attachments of love and friendship, founded
upon, and supported by esteem, may last
beyond the grave, because they have their
existence in the soul.-And will not that
Being, whose essence is love, support and
cherish those connections which are agreeable to his commands, and those sentiments
which are congenial with his own divine
nature? Will he, who commanded us to
love one another, extinguish in the grave
those virtuous affections, which, when living, it was our duty to cultivate? It is not
improbable that our happiness in heaven
may, in some measure, consist in the harmonious intercourse of a perfect society;
for I have no idea of a solitary happiness
even in the regions of perfection. Moreover, from what little accounts we find of
the angelic state in the sacred writings, we
see that the ideas of association and intercourse are always annexed to them. If
then it is not to be doubted that in our future state we shall associate with some order
of beings, can any thing be more probable
than that we shouldmix withthosekindred
and congenial spirits, who like ourselves
have had their appointments on earth,
whether in different times and places, or
the same? If in the same, which is still
probable, and if the identity of our spiritual
natures cannot be destroyed, why should
not the characteristics of the soul be known
in heaven as well as upon earth ? I am
willing to believe, at least, that the eternal
Goodness will permit this future knowledge; and though we know too little of
the state of spirits to conceive the mode of
their future communication, yet this we
know, that it is in the power of God to

permit what we wish for, and I trust that
in his kindness, he will permit it.
Then, my Constantia! for that state os
exalted friendship, where the fears and
frailties of mortality shall be known no
more!-For that happy intercourse of
spiritual pleasures, which shall be no longer
subject to the influences of chance or time;
wlch shall neitherbe oppressed by languor,
nor disturbed by anxiety! Compared with
that ineffable complacency, that sublime
delight which even the hope alone of these
things inspires, what are the sufferings,
however peculiar, that we have hitherto
endured ?-Were there, indeed, no future
state of being to commence after this, who
would not wish to be thus agreeably deceived ? Who would not wish to triumph
over those gloomy apprehensions, which
the thought of annihilation must necessarily
create, in a being to whom nature has
given the love of existence?
But if the foretaste of future happiness
be so great;-if, when only contemplated
through the imperfect medium of human
imagination, it is capable of inspiring such
exalted delight, how inconceivably great
must the real and perfect enjoyment be !
Let us here, my Constantia, indulge the
utmost stretch of hope-whatever an Almighty, and all-beneficent Being can give,
and whatever our glorified faculties can
receive, let us suppose our own. 'He that
giveth not of his spirit by measure, he that
openeth his hand, and shutteth it not again
-shall not he freely give us all things ?'
When I consider the wisdom and benevolence of that Almighty Being, through
whose kindness I have hitherto been supported in life, like my Constantia, I can
walk without trembling through the dark
And
valley of the shadow of death.
whence, but from the same consideration,
could your tender and apprehensive heart
derive that more than manly firmness which
is visible in your letter? That information
which you so kindly ascribe to my instructions, you have drawn from your own
experience of the wisdom and the goodness of Providence; to whom your gratitude is due for the rectitude of reason, as
well as for every other blessing you enjoy.
I will now no longer withhold your
mind from the meditation of that glorious
Being, whose more visible favours we shall
shortly obtain. Indeed, my faculties are
already too much confused for regular
thinking, and death, I find, makes hasty
paces towardsme.-Accept mylast blessing.
'Bless, O God! O Father of Nature,
bless my Constantia! support her gentle
spirit under the conflict of death ! and lead
her by the light of thy countenance to th)
everlasting rest!'
And now-Oh ! now-farewell, my Con.
stantia !-my Constance! my sister ! my
friend! by every dear, and every holy name
-farewell! I have conversed with you till
the last moment--But---but we shall
ADIEU
meet again.

THE

C

A

S

BY L HO
E

P-ACE
W ALPOLE,
F

EARL OF ORFORD,

PREFACE
TO THE

FIRST EDITION.

THE following work was found in the
library of an ancient Catholic family in
the North of England. It was printed at
Naples, in the black letter, in the year 1529.
How much sooner it was written does not
appear. The principal incidents are such
as were believed in the darkest ages of
Christianity; but the language and conduct
have nothing that savours of barbarism.
The style is the purest Italian. If the
story was written near the time when it is
supposed to have happened, it must have
been between 1095, the era of the first
crusade, and 1243, the date of the last, or
not long afterwards. There is no other
circumstance in the work that can lead us
to guess at the period in which the scene is
laid : the names of the actors are evidently
fictitious, and probably disguised on purpose; yet the Spanish names of the
domestics seem to indicate that this
work was not composed until the establishment of the Arragonian kings in Naples
had made Spanish appellations familiar in
that country. The beauty of the diction,
and the zeal of the author, (moderated,
however, by singular judgment) concur to
make me think that the date of the composition was little antecedent to that of the
impression. Letters were then in their
most flourishing state in Italy, and contributed to dispel the empire of superstition,
at that time so forcibly attacked by the
reformers. It is not unlikely that an artful priest might endeavour to turn their
own arms on the innovators; and might
avail himself of his abilities as an author to
confirm the populace in their ancient errors
and superstitions. If this was his view, he
has certainly acted with signal address.
Such a work as the following would enslave a hundred vulgar minds beyond half
the books of controversy that have been written from the days of Luther to the present
bour.
This solution of the author's motive is,
however, offered as a mere conjecture.
Whatever his views were, or whatever
efets the execution might have, his work
an only be laid before the public, at pre.
sent, as a matter of entertainment; even

as such, some apology for it is necessary.
Miracles, visions, necromancy, dreams, and
other preternatural events, are exploded
now, even from romances. That was not
the case when our author wrote; much
less when the story itself is supposed to
have happened. Belief in every kind of
prodigy was so established in those dark
ages that an author would not be faithful
to the manners of the times, who should
omit all mention of them. He is not bound
to believe them himself, but he must represent his actors as believing them.
If this air of the miraculous is excused,
the reader will find nothing else unworthy
his perusal. Allow the possibility of the
facts, and all the actors comport themselves
as persons would do in their situation.
There is no bombast, no similes, flowers,
digressions, or unnecessary descriptions.
Every thing tends directly to the catastrophe. Never is the reader's attention
relaxed. The rules of the drama are al.
most observed throughout the conduct of
the piece. The characters are well drawn
and still better maintained. 'error, the
author's principal engine, prevents the
story from ever languishing: and it is so
often contrasted by pity that the mind is
kept in a constant vicissitude of interesting
passions.
Some persons may perhaps think the
characters of the domestics too little serious for the general cast of the story; but,
besides their opposition to the principal
personages, the art of the author is very
observable in his conduct of the subalterns.
They discover many passages essential to
the story, which could not be well brought
to light but by their naivete and simplicity:
in particular, the womanish terrors and
foibles of Bianca, in the last chapter, conduce essentially towards advancing the
catastrophe.
It is natural for a translator to be pre.
judiced in favour of his adopted work.
More impartial readers may not be so much
struck with the beauties of this piece as I
was. Yet I am not blind to my author's
defects. I could wish he had grounded his
plan on a more useful moral than this;

4

PREFACE TO

£1IE

that the sins of fathers are visited on
their children to the thirdand fourthgeneraion. 1 doubt whether, in his time, any
more than at present, ambition curbed its
appetite of dominion from the dread of so
remote a punishment. And yet this moral
Is weakened by that less direct insinuation,
that even such anathema may be diverted
by devotion to St. Nicholas. Here the
interest of the monk plainly gets the better
of the jugment of the author. However,
with all its faults, I have no doubt but the
English reader will be pleased with a sight
of this performance. T'he piety that reigns
throughout, the lessons of virtue that are
inculcated, and the rigid purity of the sentiments, exempt this work from thecensure
to which. romances are but too liable.
Should it meet with the success I hope for,
I may be encouraged to reprint the original Italian, though it will tend to depreciate my own labour. Our language falls
far short of the charms of the Italian, both
for variety and harmony. The latter is
peculiarly excellent for simple narrative.
It is difficult in English, to relate without
falling too low or rising too high; a fault
obviously occasioned by the little care
taken to speak pure language in common
conversation.-Every Italian or Frenchman, of any rank, piques himself on speaking his own tongue correctly and with
choice.
I cannot flatter myself with
having done justice to my author in this
respect; his style is as elegant as the conduct of the passions is masterly. It is a
pity that he did not apply his talents to
what they were evidently proper for, the
theatre.
I will detain the reader no longer, but
to make one short remark. Though the
machinery is invention, and the names
of tse actors imaginary, I cannot but

FIRST EDITION.
believe that the groundwork of the story
is founded on truth. The scene is un.
doubtedly laid in some real castle. The
author seems frequently, without design, to describe particular parts: "The
chamber," says he, "on the right hand :
the door on the left hand; the distance
from the chapel to Conrad's apartment."
These and other passages are strong preo
sumptions that the author had some certain
building in his eye. Curious persons, who
have leisure to employ in such researches,
may possibly discover in the Italian writers
the foundation on which our author has
built.--If a catastrophe, at all resembling
that which he describes, is believed to
have given rise to this work, it will contribute to interest the reader, and will make
the Castle of Otranto a still more moving
story.
SONNET
TO THE
RIGHT HONOURABLE LADY MARY COKE.
THE gentle maid, whose hapless tale
These melancholy pages speak
Say, gracious lady, shall she fail
To draw the tear adown thy cheek ?
No: never was thy pitying breast
Insensible to human woes
Tender, though firm, it melts distress'd
For weaknesses it never knows.
Oh ! guard the marvels I relate
Of fell Ambition scourged
Fate,
From Reason's peevish flame.
Bless'd with thy smile, my dauntless sail
I dare expand to Fancy's gale,
For sure thy smiles are fame. H. W.

by

PREFACE
TO THE

SECOND EDITION.

TnHE
favourable manner in which this little
piece has been received by the public calls
upon the author to explain the grounds on
which he exposed it. But before he opens
those motives, it is fit that he should ask
pardon of his readers for having offered his
work to them under the borrowed personage of a translator. As diffidence of his

own abilities, and the novelty of the at.
tempt, were his sole inducements to assume
that disguise, he flatters himself he shall
appear excusable. He resigned his performance to the impartial judgment of the
public; determined to let it perish in ob.
scurity, if disapproved; nor meaning to
avow such a trifle, unless better judges

PREFACE TO THE SECOND EDITION.
should pronounce that he might own it
without a blush.
It was an attempt to blend the two kinds
of romance, the ancient and the modern.
In the former, all was imagination and
improbability: in the latter, nature is
always intended to be, and sometimes has
been, copied with success. Invention has
not been wanting; but the great resources
of fancy have been dammed up, by a
strict adherence to common life.-But if,
in the latter species, Nature has cramped
imagination, she did but take her revenge,
having been totally excluded from old
romances. The actions, sentiments, conversation, of the heroes and heroines of
ancient days, were as unnatural as the
machines employed to put them in mo.
tion.
The author of the following pages
thought it possible to reconcile the two
kinds. Desirous of leaving the powers of
fancy at liberty to expatiate through the
boundless realms df invention, and thence
of creating more interesting situations, he
wished to conduct the moral agents in his
drama according to the rules of probability;
in short, to make them think, speak, and
act, as it might be supposed mere men and
women would do in extraordinary positions.
He had observed that in all inspired
writings, the personages, under the dispensation of miracles and witnesses to the
most stupendous phenomena, never lose
sight of their human character; whereas,
in the productions of romantic story, an
improbable event never fails to be attended
by an absurd dialogue.-The actors seem
to lose their senses the moment the laws of
Nature have lost their tone. As thepublic
have applauded the attempt, the author
must not say he was entirely unequal to
the task he had undertaken: yet if the
new rout hehas struck outshall have paved
a road for men of brighter talents, he shall
own with pleasure and modesty, that he
was sensible the plan was capable of receiving greater embellishments than his
imagination or conduct

I

of the passions

could bestow on it.
With regard to the deportment of the
domestics, on which I have touched in the
former preface, I will beg leave to add a
few words.
The simplicity of their beto excite smiles,
havior almost
which at first seem not consonant to the
serious cast of the work, appeared to me
not only not improper, but was marked designedly in that manner. My rule was
However sensations of
nature. elancholy, grave, important, or
natur
even
y s
princes
or heroes may be, they do not stamp the
same affections on their domestics : at

tending
the

h

expects,perhapsheightens, certainlyproves,
that he has been artfully interested in the
depending event. But I had higher authority than my own opinion for this conduct. That great master of nature, Shak.
speare, was the model I copied. Let me
ask if his tragedies of Hamlet and Julius
Caesar would not lose a considerable share
of their spirit and wonderful beauties, if
the humour of the grave-diggers, the fooleries of Polonius, and the clumsy jests of
the Roman citizens were omitted, orvested
in heroics ? Is not the eloquence of
Antony, the nobler and affectedly-unaffected oration of Brutus, artificially exalted
by the rude bursts of nature, from the
mouths of their auditors ? These touches
remind one of the Grecian sculptor, who,
to convey the idea of a Colossus within the
dimensions of a seal, inserted a little boy
measuring his thumb.
"No," says Voltaire, in his edition of
Corneille, " this mixture of buffoonery
and solemnity is intolerable."-----Voltaire
is a genius e-but not of Shakspeare's
magnitude. Without recurring to disputable authority, I appeal from Voltaire
to himself. 1 shall not avail myself of his
former encomiums on our mighty poet;
though the French critic has twice translated the same speech in Hamlet, some
years ago in admiration, latterly in derision; and I am sorry to find that his
judgment grows weaker when it ought to
be farther matured. But I shall make use
of his own words, delivered on the general
topic of the theatre, when he was neither
thinking to recommend or decry Shakspeare's practice; consequently at a mo.
In
ment when Voltaire was impartial
the preface to his Enfant Prodigue, that
exquisite piece, of which I declare my
admiration, and which, should I live twenty
years longer, I trust I shall neverattempt to
ridicule, he has these words, speaking of comedy (but equally applicable to tragedy, if
tragedyis, as surely it ought tobe, a picture
of human life; nor can conceive why oc-

pno

least the latter do not, or should not be
made to express their passions in the same
In my humble opinion,
dignified tone.
the contrast between the sublime of the

oneand theof the other, sets te
naivet

pathetic of the former in a stronger light.

* The following remark is foreign to the present
t thik that th severe criticisms of hso
swii
masterly a writer as Voltaire on our immortal
countryman may have been the eiusions of wit
and precipitation, rather than the result of judg.
menetand attention. May not the critic's skill in
the force and powers of our language have been
as incorrect and incompetent as his knowledge ou
our history ? of the latter his own pen has dropped
glaring evidence. In his Preface to Thomas Cornelle's Earl of Essex, Monsieur de Voltaire allows
that the truth of history has been grossly pervetted
in that piece. In excuse he pleads, that when
Corneille wrote, the noblesse of France were much
but now, says the
unread in English

story'; it,
study
mentator, that they suffered
tions would not be

com-

such misrepresenta-

yet, forgetting that
the period of ignorance is lapsed, and tha tit is not
very necessary to instruct the knowing, he underoverflowing of his own reading, to
takes, from the
give the nobility of his own country a detail of
(ueen Elizabeth's favourites-of whom, says he.
Robert Dudley was the first, and the Earl of Lei-

The very impatience which a reader feels,
while delayed by the coarse pleasantries of cester the st-ond. Could one have believed that
vulgar actors from arriving at the know- taire himself, that Robert Dudley an the Earl of
ledge of their important catastrophe he Leicester werethe same person.

6

PREFACE TO THE SECOND EDITION.

easional pleasantry ought more to be
banished from the tragic scene than pathetic seriousness from the comic) On y
voilt n melange de sirienset depiaisanterie
de comiqe et de touchant; souvent mdme
une seule avanture prodsit toes ces contrastes. Riea n'est si commun qu'nemason
dans laqueUe un pdre gronde, une fille occupee de sa passion pleure; lefits se moque
des deux, et queiqesparens prennentsart
dffJereenn t dlIscee,4. Nous n'ijrosss
pas de lI que toute consdie doive avoir des
schees de boufonnerie et des scenes attendris.
cantes; it y a beascoup de t-cs benrses
pieces oDit ne rigne que de la gaieti; d'autres toutes siriesses; d'autres milangjes:
d'autresoil Pattendrissemest va jusqu' aux
larn.s il ne faut donner l'exclusion a
aucun genre : et si I'on me demandoit, quel
genre est le meileur, }e ripondrois, celi
qui est le miens traite." Surely if a comedy may be toute seireuse, tragedy may
now and then, soberly, be indulged in a
smile. Who shall proscribe it? Shall the
critic, who in self-defence declares, that
nokind ought to be excluded from comedy,
give laws to Shakspeare ?
I am aware that the preface from whence
I have quoted these passages, does not
stand in Monsieur de Voltaire's name, but
in that of his editor; yet who doubts that
the editor and the author were the same
person ? or where is the editor, who has so
hanpily possessed himself of the author's
style, and brilliant ease of. argument?
These passages were indubitably the genuine sentiments

of that great writer.

be the

De eon apprtement cette porle est prochaine,
Et cette autre eoduitds cei de la Rone.
IN ENGLISH.

In

To Cesses closet through this door you come,
And t'sther loads toths Queens drawing-room.

my

Unhappy Shakspeare, hadst thou made
Rosencrantz inform his compeer, Guildenstern, of the ichnography of the palace of
Copenhagen, instead of presenting us with
a moral dialogue between the Prince of
Denmark and the grave digger, the illumi.
nated pit of Paris would
instructed a second time to adore thy talents.
The result of all I have said is, to shelter
my own daring under the canon of the
brightest genius this country, at least, has
preduced. I might have pleaded that,
having created "anew species of romance,
I was at liberty to lay down what rules I
thought fit for the conduct of
but I
should be more proud
having imitated,
however fimtly, weakly, and at a distance,
so masterly a pattern, than to enjoy the
entire merit of invention, unleos I could
as with originality. Such as it is, the pub.
lie have honoured it sufficiently, whatever
rank their suffrages allot to it.

his epistle to Maffei, prefixed to hs Merope,
he delivers almost the same opinion,
though, I doubt, with a
irony. I
will repeat his words, and then give
reason for quoting them. Aftertranslating.
a passage in Maffel's Merope, Monsieur de
Voltaire adds, " Tons ces traits. sont naiifs :
tout yo est convenabole conx quo vans introai
duisez sur la sene, et aux mceurs quo vous
leur donnez. Ces famiiao-itis natureles
eussent iii d ce queje crais. ier reques dans
Athc~ns; miais Paris et notre parterre vontent une autre espcice de simplisiti." I
doubt, I say, whether there is not a grain
of sneer in this, and other passages of that
epistle ; yet the force of truth is not
damaged by being tinged with ridicule,
Maffei was to represent a Grecian story :
surely the Athenians were as competent
fudges of Grecian manners, and of the propriety of introducing them, as the parterre
oPai."ntecnrrsasVlarhvmakdmwokwtgeisaswl,(and
I cannot but admire his reasoning)
' there were but ten thousand citizens at
Athens, and Paris has near eight hundred

little

thousand inhabitants, among whom one
may reckon thirty thousand judges of dra.
matic works."-Indeed !-but allowing so
numerous a tribunal, I believe this is the
only instance in which it was ever pretended that thirty thousandpersons, living near
two thousand years after the Vea in ques.
tion, were, upon the mere face of the poll,
declared better judges than the Grecians
themselves, of what ought to
man.
ners of a tragedy written on a Grecian
story.
I will not enter into a discussion of the
esp'ce de sim licite, which the parterre of
Paris demands nor of the shackles with
which the thirty thousand judges have
cramped their poetry, the chief merit of
which, as I gather from repeated passaes
in the New Commentary on Corneile,
consists in vaulting in spite of thosefetters;
a merit which, if true, would reducepoetry
from the lofty effort of imagination, to a
puerile and most contemptible labourdiffleiles nugse with a witness! I cannot,
however, help mentioning a couplet, which
to my English ears, always sounded as the
flattest and most trifling instance of dr.
cumstantial propriety, but which Voltaire,
who has dealt so severely with nine parts
in ten of Corneille's works, has singled out
to defend in Rncue;

have been

of

'it:

L

THE

CASTLE OF OTRANTO,
A GOTHIC STORY.

CHAP. I.

MANnED, Prince of Otranto, bad one son
and one daughter : the latter a most beau.
tiful virgin, aged eighteen, was called Matilda. Conrad, the son, was three years
younger, a homely youth, sickly, and of no
promising disposition; yet he was the darling of his father, who never showed any
symptoms of affection to Matilda. Manfred had contracted a marriage for his son
with the Marquis of Vicenza's daughter,
Isabella; and she had already been delivered by her guardians into the hands of Manfred, that he might celebrate the wedding
as soon as Conrad's infirm state of health
would permit. Manfred's impatience for
this ceremonial was remarked by his family
and neighbours. The former, indeed, apprehending the severity of their prince's
disposition, did not dare to utter their surmises on this precipitation. Hippolita, his
wife, an amiable lady, did sometimes venture to represent the danger of marrying
their only son so early, considering his
great youth and greater infirmities; but
she never received any other answer than
reflections on her own sterlity, who had
given him but one heir. His tenants and
subjects were less cautious in their discourses: they attributed this hasty wedding to the prince's dread of seeing accom.
plished an ancient prophecy, which was
said to have pronounced, that the Castle
and Lordship of Otranto should pass from
thepresent family whenever the real owner
should be grown too large to inhabit it. It
was difficult to make any sense of this pro.
fhecy; and still less easy to conceive what
Shad to do with the marriage in question.
Yet these mysteries, or contradictions, did
not make the populace adhere the less to
their opinion.
Young Conrad's birth-day was fixed for
his espousals. The company was assembled
in the chapel of the castle, and every thing
ready for beginning the divine office, when
Conrad himself was missing. Manfred,

impatient of the least delay, and who had
not observed his son retire, despatched one
of his attendants to summon the young
prince. The servant, who had not staid
long enough to have crossed the court to
Conrad's apartment, came running back
breathless, in a frantic manner, his eyes
staring, and foaming at the mouth. He
said nothing, but pointed to the court:
The company were struck with terror and
amazement. Theprincess Hippolita, without knowing what was the matter, but
anxious or her son, swooned away. Manfred, less apprehensive than enraged at the
procrastination of the nuptials, and at the
folly of his domestic, asked imperiously
what was the matter? The fellow made
no answer, but continued pointing towards
the court-yard; and at last, after repeated
questions put to him, cried out, "Oh! the
helmet the helmet !" In the meantime
some of the company had run into the
court, from whence was heard a confused
noise of shrieks, horror, and surprise. Manfred, who began to be alarmed at not seeing
his son, went himself to get information of
what occasioned this strange confusion.
Matilda remained, endeavouring to assist
her mother, and Isabella staid for the same
purpose, and to avoid showing any impatience for the bridegroom, for whom, min
truth, she had conceived little affection.
The first thing that struck Manfred's
eyes was a group of his servants endeavouring to raise something that appeared to him
a mountain of sable plumes. He gazed
without believing his sight. What are ye
doing? cried Manfred, wrathfully: where
is my son ? A volley of voices replied,
Oh ! my lord ! the prince ! the prince ! the
helmet! the helmet ! Shocked with these
lamentable sounds, and dreading he knew
not what, he advanced hastily,-but what
a sight for a father's eyes! he beheld his
child dashed to pieces, and almost buried
under an enormous helmet, a hundred
times more large than any casque ever
made for human being, and shaded with a
proportionable quantity of black feathers.
The horrorof the spectacle, the ignor.

CASTLE OF OTRANTO.
ance of all around how this misfortune had
happened, and, above all, the tremendous
phenomenon before him; took away the
prince's speech. Yet his silence lasted
longer than even grief could occasion. He
fixed his eyes on what he wished in vain to
believe a vision ; and seemed less attentive
to his loss than buried in meditation on the
stupendous object that had occasioned it.
He touched, he examined the fatal casque;
nor could even the bleeding mangled remains of the young prince divert the eyes
of Manfred from the portent before him.
All who had known his partial fondness for
young Conrad were as much surprised at
their prince's insensibility as thunderstruck
themselves at the miracle of the helmet.
They conveyed the disfigured corpse into
the hall, without receiving the least direction from Manfred. As little was he attentive to the ladies who remained in the
chapel: on the contrary, without mentioning the unhappy princesses, his wife and
daughter, the first sounds that dropped
from Manfred's lips were, Take care of the
lady Isabella.
The domestics, without observing the
singularity of this direction, were guided
by their affection to their mistress, to consider it as peculiarly addressed to her situation, and flew to her assistance. They
conveyed her to her chamber more dead
than alive, and indifferent to all strange
the
circumstances she heard, except the death
of her son. Matilda, who doted on her
mother, smothered her own grief and
amazement, and thought of nothing but
assisting and comforting her afflicted parent. Isabella, who had been treated by
Hippolita like a daughter, and who returned that tenderness with equal duty and
affection, was scarce less assiduous about
the princess ; at the same time endeavouring to partake and lessen the weight of sorrow which she saw Matilda strove to sup.
press, for whom she had conceived the
warmest sympathy of friendship: yet her
own situation could not help finding its
place in her thoughts. She felt no concern
for the death of young Conrad, except commiseration; and she was not sorry to be
delivered from a marriage which had promised her little felicity, either from her
destined bridegroom, or from the severe
temper of Manfred, who, though he had
distinguished her by great indulgence, had
imprinted her mind with terror, from his
causeless rigour to such amiable princesses
as Hippolita and Matilda.
While the ladies were conveying the
wretched mother to her bed, Manfred remained in the court, gazing on the ominous casque, and regardless of the crowd
which the strangeness of the event had now,
assembled around him. The few words he
articulated tending solely to inquiries,
whether any man knew from whence it
could have come? Nobody could give him
the least information. However, as it
seemed to bethesole object of his curiosity,
it soon became so to the rest of the spectators, whose conjectures were as absurd and
Improbable, as the catastrophe itself was

unprecedented.
In the midst of their
senseless guesses, a young peasant, whom
rumour had drawn thither from a neighbouring village, observed that the miraculous helmet was exactly like that on the
figure in black marble, of Alfonso the
Good, one of their former princes, in the
church of St. Nicholas. Villain ! what
sayest thou ! cried Manfred, starting from
his trance in a tempest of rage, and seizing
the young man by the collar; How darest
thou utter such treason? thy life shall pay
for it. The spectators, who as little comprehended the cause of the prince's fury as
all the rest they had seen, were at a loss to
unravel this new circumstance. The young
peasant himself was still more astonished,
not conceiving how he had offended the
prince : yet recollecting himself, with a
mixture of grace and humility, he disengaged himself from Manfred's gripe, and
then, with an obeisance which discovered
more jealousy of innocence than dismay,
he asked, with respect, of what he was
guilty ? Manfred, more enraged at the
vigour, however decently exerted, with
which the young man had shaken off his
hold, than appeased by his submission, ordered his attendants to seize him, and, if
he had not been withheld by his friends,
whom he had invited to the nuptials, would
have poniarded the peasant in their arms.
During this altercation, some of the vulgar spectators had run to the great church,
which stood near the castle, and came back
open mouthed, declaring that the helmet
was missing from Alfonso's statue. Manfred, at this news, grew perfectly frantic;
and, as if he sought a subject on which to
vent the tempest within him, he rushed
again on the young peasant, crying, Villain! Monster ! Sorcerer ! it is thou hast
done this! it is thou hast slain my son!
The mob, who wanted some object within
the scope of their capacities, on whom they
might discharge their bewildered reasonings, caught the words from the mouth of
their lord, and re-echoed, Ay, ay; it is he,
it is he : he has stolen the helmet from
good Alfonso's tomb, and dashed out the
brains of our young prince with it; never
reflecting how enormous the disproportion
was between the marble helmet that had
been in the church and that of steel before
their eyes; nor how impossible it was for a
youth, seemingly not twenty, to wield a
piece of armour of so prodigious a weight.
The folly of these ejaculations brought
Manfred to himself: yet whether provoked
at the peasant having observed the resemblance between the two helmets, and thereby led to the farther discovery of the ab.
sence of that in the church; or wishing to
bury any such rumour under so impertinent
a supposition; he gravely pronounced that
the young man was certainly a necromancer, and that till the church should take
cognizance of the affair, he would have the
magician, whom they had thus detected,
kept prisoner under the helmet itself,
which he ordered his attendants to raise,
and place the young man under it; declaring he should be kept there without

CASTLE OF OTRANTO.
food, with which his own infernal art
might furnish him.
It was in vain for the youth to represent
against this preposterous sentence: in vain
did Manfred's friends endeavour to divert
him from the savage and ill grounded
resolution. The generality were charmed
with their lord's decision, which, to their
apprehensions, carried great appearance of
justice, as the magician was to be punished
by the very instrument with which he had
offended: nor were they struck with the
least compunction at the probability of the
youth being starved, for trey firmly believed that, by his diabolic skill, he could
easily supply himself with nutriment.
Manfred thus saw his conumands even
cheerfully obeyed; and appointing a guard
with strict orders to prevent any food being
conveyed to the prisoner, he dismissed his
friends and attendants, and retired to his
own chamber, after locking the gates of the
castle, in which he suffered none but his
domestics to remain.
In the meantime, the care and zeal of
the young ladies had brought the Princess
Hippolita to herself, who, amidst the
transports of her own sorrow, frequently
demanded news of her lord, would have
dismissed her attendants to watch over him,
and at last enjoined Matilda to leave her,
and visit and comfort her father. Matilda,
who wanted no affectionate duty to Man.
fred, though she trembled at his austerity,
obeyed the orders of Hippolita, whom she
tenderly recommended to Isabella; and
.nquiring of the domestics for her father,
was informed that he was retired to his
chamber, and had commanded that nobody
should have admittance to him. Concluding that he was immersed in sorrow
for the death of her brother, and fearing
to renew his tears, by the sight of his sole
remaining child, she hesitated whether she
should break in upon his affliction; yet
solicitude for him, backed by the commands of .her mother, encouraged her to
venture disobeying the orders he had given :
a fault she had never been guilty of before.
The gentle timidity of her nature made her
pause for some minutes at his door. She
heard him traverse his chamber backwards
and forwards with disordered steps; a mood
which increased her apprehensions. She
was, however, just going to beg admittance,
when Manfred suddenly opened the door ;
and as it was now twilight, concurring with
the disorder of his mind, he did not distinguish the person, but asked angrily who it
was? Matilda replied, trembling, My dearest father, it is I, your daughter. Manfred,
stepping back hastily, cried, Begone, I do
not want a daughter; and flinging back
abruptly, clapped the door against the terri-.
fied Matilda.
She was too well acquainted with her
father's impetuosity to venture a second
intrusion. When she had a little recovered the shock of so bitter a reception, she
wiped away her tears, to prevent the additional stab that the knowledge of it
would give to Hippolita, who questioned
her in the most anxious terms on the health

of Manfred, and how he bore his loss.
Matilda assured her he was well, and sup.
ported his misfortunes with manly fortitude.
But will he not let me see him? said
Hippolita, mournfully; will he not permit
me to blend my tears with his, and shed a
mother's sorrows in the bosom of her
lord? Or do you deceive me, Matilda? I
know how Manfred doted on his son : is
not the stroke too heavy for him? has he
not sunk under it? You do not answer me
-alas ! I dread the worst !-raise me, my
maidens, I will, I will see my lord Bear
me to him instantly: he is dearer to me
even than my children.
Matilda made
signs to Isabella to prevent Hippolita's
rising; and both these lovely young women
were using their gentle violence to stop and
calm the priqcess, when a servant on the
part of Manfred arrived, and told Isabella
that his lord demanded to speak with her.
With me ! cried Isabella. Go, said
Hippolita, relieved by a message from her
lord: Manfred cannot support the sight of
his own family. He thinks you less disordered than we are, and dreads the shock
of my grief. Console him, my dear Isabella, and tell him I will smother my own
anguish rather than add to his.
As it was now evening, the servant, who
conducted Isabella, bore a torch before her.
When they came to Manfred, who was
walking impatiently about the gallery, he
started, and said, hastily, Take away that
light, and begone. Then shutting the door
impetuously, he flung himself upon a
bench against the wall, and bade Isabella
sit by him. She obeyed, trembling. I sent
for you, lady, said he, and then stopped
under great appearance of confusion. My
lord!-Yes, I sent for you on a matter of
great moment, resumed he: Dry your
tears, young lady-you have lost your
bridegroom. Yes, cruel fate I and I have
lost the hopes of my race ! but Conrad was
not worthy of your beauty,-How, my lord,
said Isabella; sure you do not suspect me
of not feeling the concern I ought; my
duty and affection would have alwaysThink no more of him, interrupted Manfred; he was a sickly, puny child, and
heaven has, perhaps, taken him away, that
I might not trust the honours of my house
on so frail a foundation. The line of Manfred calls for numerous supports. My
foolish fondness for that boy blinded the
eyes of my prudence-but it is better as it
is. I hope, in a few years, to have reason
to rejoice at the death of Conrad.
Words cannot paint the astonishment of
Isabella. At first she apprehended that
grief had disordered Manfred's understanding. Her next thought suggested that
this strange discourse was designed to ensnare her: she feared that Manfred had
perceived her indifferenee for his son : and
in consequence of that idea she replied,
Good, my lord, do not doubt my tender.
ness: my heart would have accompanied
my hand. Conrad would have engrossed
all my care; and wherever fate shall dispose of me, I shall always cherish his
memory, and regard your highness and the

IF

10

CASTLE OF OrRANTO.

virtuous Hippolita as my parents.-Curse
on Hippolita! cried Manfred: forget her
from this moment, as I do. Inshort, lady,
you have missed a husband, undeserving
of your charms: they shall now be better
disposed of. Instead of a sickly boy, you
shall have a husband in the prime of his
age, who will know how to value your
beauties, and who may expect a numerous
offspring.-Alas ! my lord ! said Isabella,
my mind is too sadly engrossed by the
recent catastrophe in your family to think
of another marriage. If ever my father
returns, and it shall be his pleasure, I shall
obey, as I did when I consented to give my
hand to your son: but, until his return,
permit me to remain under your hospitable
roof, and employ the melancholy hours in
assuaging yours, Hippolita's and the fair
Matilda's affliction.
I desired you once before, said Manfred,
angrily, not to name that woman : from
this hour she must be a stranger to you, as
she must be to me;-in short, Isabella,
since I cannot give you my son, I offer you
myself. Heavens, cried Isabella, waking
from her delusion, what do I hear ! You !
my lord! You! my father-in.law! the
father of Conrad ! the husband of the virtuous and tender Hippolita !-I tell you
said Manfred, imperiously, Hippolita is no
longer my wife; I divorce her from this
hour. Too long has she cursed me by her
unfruitfulness. My fate depends on having
sons,-and this night I trust will give a
new date to my hopes. At these words he
seized the cold hand of Isabella, who was
half dead with fright and horror. She
shrieked and started from him. Manfred
rose to pursue her, when the moon, which
was now up, and gleamed in at the opposite casement, presented to his sight the
plumes of the fatal helmet, which rose to
the height of the windows, waving backwards and forwards in a tempestuous manner, and accompanied with a hollow and
a rustling sound. Isabella, who gathered
courage from her situation, and who
dreaded nothing so much as Manfred's pursuit of his declaration, cried, Look! my
lord; see, heaven itself declares against
your impious intentions!-Heaven nor bell
shall impede my designs, said Manfred,
advancing to seize the princess. At that
instant the portrait of his grandfather,
which hung over the bench where he had
been sitting, uttered a deep sigh, and
heaved its breast. Isabella, whose back
was turned to the picture, saw not the
motion, nor knew whence the sound camne,
but started, and said, Hark, my lord !
What sound was that? and, at the same
time, made towards the door. Manfred,
distracted between the flight of Isabella,
who had now reached the stairs, and yet
unable to keep his eyes from the picture,
which began to move, had, however, advanced some steps after her, still looking
backwards on the portrait, when he saw it
quit its pannel, and descend on the floor,
with a grave and melancholy air. Do I
dream ? cried Manfred, returning; or are
the devils themselves in league against
?

me

Speak, infernal spectre! or if thou art my
grandsire, why dost thou too conspire
against thy wretched descendant, who too
dearly pays for-ere he could finish the
sentence, the vision sighed again, andmade
a sign to Manfred to follow him. Lead on !
cried Manfred, I will follow thee to the
gulf of perdition. The spectre marched
sedately, but dejected, to the end of the
gallery, and turned into a chamber on the
right hand. Manfred accompanied him at
a little distance, full of anxiety and horror,
but resolved. As he would have entered
the chamber, the door was clapped to,
with violence, by an invisible hand. The
prince, collecting courage from this delay,
would have forcibly burst open the door
with his foot, but found that it resisted his
utmost effbrts. Since hell will not satisfy
my curiosity, said Manfred, I will use the
human means in my power for preserving
my race; Isabella shall not escape me.
The lady, whose resolution had given
way to terror, the moment she had quitted
Manfred, continued her flight to the bot.
tom of the principal staircase. There she
stopped, not knowing whither to direct her
steps, nor how to escape from the impe.
tuosity of the prince. The gates of the
castle she knew were locked, and guards
were placed in the court. Should she, as
her heart prompted, go and prepare Hip.
polita for the cruel destiny that awaited
her; she did not doubt but Manfred would
seek her there, and that his violence would
incite him to double the injury he meditated, without leaving room for them to
avoid the impetuosity of his passions. Delay might give him time to reflect on the
horrid measures he had conceived, or produce some circumstance in her favour, if
she could for that night, at least avoid his
odious purpose.-Yet where conceal herself? how avoid the pursuit he would
infallibly make throughout the castle? As
these thoughts passed rapidly through her
mind, she recollected a subterraneous passage, which led from the vaults of the
castle to the church of St. Nicholas.
Could she reach the altar, before she was
overtaken, she knew even Manfred's
violence would not dare to profane the
sacredness of the place; and she deter.
mined, if no other means of deliverance
offered, to shut herself up forever among
the holy virgins, whose convent was contiguous to the cathedral. In this resolution, she seized a lamp that burned at the
foot of the staircase, and hurried towards
the secret passage.
The lower part of the castle was hollowed
into several intricate cloisters; and it was
not easy for one, under so much anxiety,
to find the door that opened into the cavern. An awful silence reigned throughout those subterraneous regions, except
now and then some blasts of wind that shook
the doors she had passed, and which, grating on the rusty hinges, were re-echoed
through that long labyrinth of darkness.
Every murmur struck her with new terror;
-yet more she dreaded to hear the wrathful voice of Manfred, urging his domestics

CASTLE OF OTRANTO.

11

to pursue her. ' She trod as softly as impa- eagerly towards this chasm, when she dis,
tience would give her leave,-yet frequent- cerned a human form standing close against
ly stopped, and listened, to hear if she was the wall.
followed. In one of those moments she
She shrieked, believing it the ghost of
thought she heard a sigh. She shuddered, her betrothed Conrad. The figure, ado
and recoiled a few paces. In a moment vancing, said, in a submissive voice, Be
she thought she heard the step of some not alarmed, lady, I will not injure you.
person. Her blood curdled ; she conclud- Isabella, a little encouraged by the words
ed it was Manfred. Every suggestion that and tone of voice of the stranger, and rehorror could inspire rushed into her mind. collecting that this must be the person who
She condemned her rash flight, which had had opened the door, recovered her spirits
thus exposed her to his rage, in a place enough to reply, Sir, whoever you are, take
where her cries were not likely to draw any pity on a wretched princess, standing on
body to her assistance.-Yet the sound the brink of destruction ; assist me to esseemed not to come from behind: if Man. cape from this fatalcastle, or, in a few mofred knew where she was, he must have ments, I may be made miserable for ever.
followed her. She was still in one of the Alas ! said the stranger, what can I do to
cloisters, and the steps she had heard were assist you? I will die in your defence;
too distinct to proceed from the way she but I am unacquainted with the castle, and
had come. Cheered with this reflection, want-Oh ! said Isabella, hastily interruptand hoping to find a friend in whoever was ing him, help me but to find a trap-door,
not the prince, she was going to advance, that must be hereabout, and it is the
when a door, that stood a-jar, at some dis- greatest service you can do me, for I have
tance to the left, was opened gently: but not a minute to lose. Saying these words,
ere her lamp, which she held up, could she felt about on the pavements and directdiscover who opened it, the person retreat- ed the stranger to search likewise for a
ed precipitately on seeing the tight.
smooth piece of brass, enclosed in one of
Isabella, whom every incident was suffi- the stones.-That, said she, is the lock,
cient to dismay, hesitated whether she which opens with a spring, of which I
should proceed. Her dread of Manfred know the secret. If we can find that, I
soon outweighed every other terror. The may escape-if not, alas! courteous stranvery circumstance of the person avoiding ger, I fear I shall have involved you in my
her gave her a sort of courage. It could misfortunes : Manfred will suspect you for
only be, she thought, some domestic belong- the accomplice of my flight, and you will
ing to the castle. Her gentleness had fall a victim to his resentment. I value
never raised her an enemy, and conscious not my life, said the stranger, and it will
innocence made her hope that, unless sent be some comfort to lose it in trying to deby the prince's order to seek her, his ser- liver you from his tyranny. Generous
vants would rather assist than prevent her youth, said Isabella, how shall I ever reflight. Fortifying herself with these reflec- quite-as she uttered these words, a ray of
tions, and believing, by what she could obh- moonshine, streaming through a cranny of
serve, that she was near the mouth of the the ruin above, shone directly on the lock
subterraneous cavern, she approached the they sought-Oh! transport! said Isabella,
door that had been opened; but a sudden here is the trapdoor! and taking out the
gust of wind, that met her at the door, ex- key, she touched the spring, which starttinguished her lamp, and left her in total ing aside, discovered an iron ring. Lift up
darkness.
the door, said the princess. The stranger
Words cannot paint the horror of the obeyed, and beneath appeared some stone
princess's situation. Alone, in so dismal a steps descending into a vault totally dark.
place, her mind imprinted with all the ter- We must go down here, said Isabella : fol.
rible events of the day, hopeless of escap- low me; dark and dismal as it is, we caning, expecting every moment the arrival of not miss our way; it leads directly to the
Manfred, and far from tranquil, on know- church of St. Nicholas; but perhaps, ading she was within reach of somebody, she ded the princess, modestly, you have no
knew not whom, who, for some cause, reason to leave the castle, nor have I farseemed concealed thereabouts; all these ther occasion for your service; in a few
thoughts crowded on her distracted mind, minutes I shall be safe from Manfred's
and she was ready to sink under her appre- rage-only let me know to whom I am so
hensions. She addressed herself to every much obliged. I will never quit you, said
saint in heaven, and inwardly implored the stranger eagerly, until I have placed
their assistance. For a considerable time you in safety-nor think me, princess,
she remained in an agony of despair. At more generous than I am: though you are
last, as softly as was possible, she felt for my principal care-the stranger was interthe door, anid, having found it, entered rupted by a sudden noise of voices that
trembling into the vault from whence she seemed approaching, and they soon dishad heard the sigh and steps. It gave her tinguished these words: Talk not to me of
a kind of momentary joy to perceive an necromancers; I tell you she must be in
imperfect ray of clouded moonshine gleam the castle ; I will find her in spite of enfrom the roof of the vault, which seemed chantment.-Oh! heavens, cried Isabella,
to be fallen in, and from whence hung a it is the voice of Manfred ! make haste, or
fragment of earth or building, she could we are ruined ! and shut the trapdoorafter
not distinguish which, that appeared to you. Saying this, she descended the steps
have been crushed inwards. She advanced precipitately; and as the stranger hastened

rt 2

12

CASTLE OF OTRANTO.

to follow her, he let the door slip out of his
hands : it fell, and the spring closed over
it. He tried in vain to open it, not having
observed Isabella's method of touching the
spring; nor had he many mbments to make
an essay. The noise of the falling door had
been heard by Manfred, who, directed by
the sound, hastened thither, attended by
his servants, with torches. It must be
Isabella, cried Manfred, before he entered
the vault; she is escaping by the subterraneous passage, but she cannot have got
far.-What was the astonishment of the
prince, when, instead of Isabella, the light
of the torches discovered to him the young
peasant, whom he thought confined under
Traitor ! said Manthe fatal helmet!
fred, how camest thou here? 1 thought
thee in durance above in the court.--I am
no traitor, replied the young man boldly,
nor am I answerable for your thoughts.Presumptuous villain i! cried Manfred, dost
thou provoke my wrath ? tell me how hast
thou escaped from above? thou hast corrupted thy guards, and their lives shall answer it.--My poverty, said the peasant
calmly, will disculpate them: though the
ministers of a tyrant's wrath, to thee they
are faithful, and but too willing to execute
the orders which you unjustly imposed
upon them.-Art thou so hardy as to dare
my vengeance? said the prince; but tortures shall force the truth from thee. Tell
me; I will know thy accomplices.-There
was my accomplice, said the youth smiling,
and pointing to the roof. Manfred ordered
the torches to be held up, and perceived
that one of the cheeks of the enchanted
casque had forced its way through the
pavement of the court, as his servants had
let it fall over the peasant, and had broken
through into the vault, leavingagapthrough
which the peasant had pressed himself,
some minutes before he was found by Isabella. Was that the way by which thou
didst descend? said Manfred. It was, said
the youth. But what noise was that, said
Manfred, which I heard as I entered the
cloister ? A door clapped.-Said the peasant, I heard it as well as you.-What door ?
said Manfred hastily. 1 am not acquainted with your castle, saidthe peasant, this is
the first time I ever entered it, and this
vault the only part of it within which I ever
was.-But I tell thee, said Manfred (wishing to find out if the youth had discovered
tne trap-door), it was this way I heard the
noise ; my servants heard it too.-My lord,
interrupted one of them, officiously, to be
sure it was the trap-door, and he was going
to make his escape. Peace! blockhead,
said the prince, angrily; if he was going
to escape, how should he come on this side ?
I will know from his own mouth, what
noise it was I heard. Tell me truly; thy
life depends on thy veracity.-My veracity
is dearer to me than my life, said the peasant; nor would I purchase the one by for.
feiting the other..-Indeed ! young philosopher ! said Manfred contemptuously; tell
me, then, what was the noise I heard ?Ask me what I can answer, said he, and
put me to death instantly, if I tell you a

lie. Manfred, growing impatient at the
steady valour and indifference of the youth,
cried, Well then, thou man of truth ! an,
swer-was it the fall of the trap-door that
I heard ?-It was, said the youth. It was!
said the prince; and how didst thou come
to know there was a trap-door here?-1
saw the plate of brass, by a gleam of moonshine, replied he. But what told thee it
was a lock ? said Manfred; how didst thou
discover the secret of opening it ?-Providence, that delivered me from the helmet,
was able to direct me to the spring of a
lock, said he. Providence should have
gone a little farther, and have placed thee
out of the reach of my resentment, said
Manfred. When Providence had taught
thee to open the lock, it abandoned thee
for a fool, who did not know how to make
use of its favours. Why didst thou not
pursue the path pointed out for thy escape? Why didst thou shut the trap-door
before thou hadst descended the steps ?-1
might ask you, my lord, said the peasant,
how I, totally unacquainted with your castie, was to know that those steps led to any
outlet? But I scorn to evade your ques.
tions. Wherever those steps lead to, perhaps I should have explored the way-I
could not be in a worse situation than I
was. But the truth is, I let the trap-door
fall, your immediate arrival followed. I
had given the alarm-what imported it to
me whether I was seized a minute sooner
or a minute later ?-Thou art a resolute
villain for thy years, said Manfred; yet, on
reflection, I suspect thou dost but trifle
with me: thou hast not yet told me how
thou didst open the lock.-That I will show
you, my lord, said the peasant; and tak.
ing up a fragment of stone that had fallen
from above, he laid himself on the trap.
door, and began to beat on the piece of
brass that covered it, meaning to gain time
for the escape of the princess. This presence of mind, joined to the frankness of
the youth, staggered Manfred. He even
felt a disposition toward pardoning one
who had been guilty of no crime. Man.
fred was not one of those savage tyrants
who wanton in cruelty unprovoked. The
circumstances of his fortune had given an
asperity to his temrper, which was natural.
ly humane; and his virtues were always
ready to operate, when his passions did not
obscure his reason.
While the prince was in this suspense, a
confused noise of voices echoed through
the distant vaults. As the sound approach.
ed, he distinguished the clamours of some
of his domestics, whom he had dispersed
through the castle in search of Isabella,
calling out, Where is my lord? where is
the prince? Here I am, said Manfred, as
they came nearer, have you found the
princess?
he first that arrived, rephlied,
Oh! my lord! I am glad we have found
you.-Found me, said Manfred, have you
found the princess ?-We thought we had,
my lord, said the fellow, looking terrified;
but,-But what? cried the prince, has she
escaped ?-Jaquez and I, my lord ! Yes, I
and Diego, interrupted the second; wko

CASTLE OF OTRANTO.
came up in still greater consternation.Speak one of you at a time, said Manfred:
I ask you where is the princess ?-We do
not know, said they both together ; but we
are frightened out of our wits.-So 1 think,
blockheads, said Manfred: what is it
has scared you thus ? Oh ! my lord, said
Jaquez, Diego has seen such a sight ! your
highness would not believe our eyes. What
new absurdity is this ? cried Manfred :
give me a direct answer, or by heaven,Why, my lord, if it please your highness
to hear me, said the poor fellow, Diego and
I-Yes, I and Jaquez, cried his comrade.Did not I forbid you to speak both at a
time? said the prince: you, Jaquez, answer; for the other fool seems more distracted than thou art; what is the matter ?
-My gracious lord, said Jaquez, if it please
your highness to hear me; Diego and T,
according to your highness's orders, went
to search for the young lady; but being
apprehensive that we might meet the
ghost of my young lord, your highness's
son, God rest his soul, as he has not received Christian burial-Sot, cried Manfred, in a rage, is it only a ghost that thou
hast seen ?-Oh ! worse ! worse ! my lord,
cried Diego, I had rather have seen ten
whole ghosts ;-Grant me patience ! said
Manfred, these blockheads distract me-out of my sight, Diego ! and thou, Jaquez, !
tell me in one word, art thou sober ? art
thou raving ? thou wast wont to have some
sense : has the other sot frightened himself
and thee too? speak; what is it he fancies
he has seen ?-Why, my lord, replied Jaquez, trembling, I was going to tell your
highness, that since the calamitous misfortune of my young lord, God rest his precious soul : not one of us, your highness's
faithful servants, indeed we are, my lord,
though poor men ; I say, not one of us has
dared to set a foot about the castle, but two
together : so Diego and I, thinking that my
young lady might be in the great gallery,
went up there to look for her, and tell her
your highness wanted something to impart
to her.-O blundering fools! cried Manfred; and in the mean time she has made
her escape, because you were afraid of gob.
lins! Why, thou knave ! she left me in,
the gallery; I came from thence myself.For all that she may be there still, for;
aught I know, said Jaquez; but the devil
shall have me before I seek her there again
-poor Diego! I do not believe he will ever
recover it !-Recover what ? said Manfred :
am I never to learn what it is has terrified
these rascals? but I lose my time: follow
me, slave; 1 will see if she is in the gallery.-For heaven's sake, my, my dear good
lord, cried Jaquez, do not go to the gallery.
Satan himself, I believe, is in the chamber
next to the gallery. Manfred, who hither-I
to had treated the terror of his servants as
an idle panic, was struck at this new circumstance. He recollected the apparition
of the portrait, and the sudden closing of
the door at the end of the gallery-his voice
faltered, and heasked, with disorder, What
is in the great chamber ?-My lord, said
Jaquez, when Diego and I came into the

18

gallery, he went first, for e ,aid he had
more courage than I. So wnn we came
into the gallery, we found nobody. We
looked under every bench and stool, and
still we found nobody.-Were all the pictures in their places ? said Manfred. Yes,
my lord, answered Jaquez; but we did not
think of looking behind them.-Well, well!
said Manfred, proceed.-When we came to
the door of the great chamber, continued
Jaquez, we found it shut. And could not
you open it? said Manfred. Oh! yes, my
lord; would to heaven we had not ! replied
he-nay, it was not I neither, it was Diego:
he was grown fool-hardy, and would go on,
though I advised him not : if ever I open
a door that is shut, again,-Trifle not, said
Manfred, shuddering, but tell me what you
saw in the great chamber, on opening the
door.-i! my lord! said Jaquez, I saw
riothing; 1 was behind Diego; but I heard
the noise. Jaquez, said Manfred, in a solemn
tone of voice, tell me, I adjure thee by the
souls of my ancestors, what it was thow
sawest? what was it thou heardest ?-It
was Diego saw it, my lord, it was not I,
replied Jaquez, I only heard the noise.
Diego had no sooner opened the door, than
he cried out, and ran back-I ran back
too, and said, is it the ghost ? The ghost !
no, no, said Diego, and his hair stood an
end ; it is a giant, I believe: he is all clad
in armour, for I saw his foot and part of
his leg, and they are as large as the helmet
below in the court. As he said these words,
my lord, we heard a violent motion and the
rattling of armour, as if the giant was rising, for Diego has told me since, that he
believes the giant was lying down, for the
foot and leg were stretched at length on the
floor. Before we could get to the end of
the gallery, we heard the door of the great
chamber clap behind us, but we did not
dare turn back to see if the giant was following us; yet, now I think on it, we must
have heard him if he had pursued us; but,
for heaven's sake, my good lord, send for
the chaplain, and have the castle exorcised; for, for certain, it is enchanted.Ay, pray do, my lord, cried
the servants
at once, or we must leave your highness's
service.-Peace! dotards, said Manfred,
and follow me; I will know what all this
means.-We! my lord! cried they, with
one voice, we would not go up to the gallery for your highness's revenue. The
young peasant, who had stood silent, now
spoke. Will your highness, said he, permit me to try this adventure ? my life is of
consequence to nobody, I fear no bad angel, and have offended no good one.-Your
behaviour is above your seeming, said
Manfred, viewing him with surprise and
admiration ; hereafter I will reward your
bravery; but now, continued he, with a
sigh, I am so circumstanced that I dare
trust no eyes but my own; however, I give
you leave to accompany me.
Manfred, when he first followed Isabella
from the gallery, had gone directly to ne
apartment of his wife, concluding the princess had retired thither. Hippolita, who
knew his step, rose with anxious fondness to

cl

14

CASTLE OF OTRANTO.

meet her lord, whom she had not seen since
the death of her son. She would have flown
in a transport, mixed of joy and grief, to
his bosom, but he pushed her rudely off,
and said, Where is Isabella ?-Isabella!
my lord ! said the astonished Hippolita.
Yes, Isabella, cried Manfred, imperiously;
I want Isabella.-My lord, replied Matilda,
who perceived how much his behaviour
had shocked her mother, she has not been
with us since your highness summoned her
to your apartment. Tell me where she is,
said the prince ; I do not want to know
where she has been. My good lord, says
Hippolita, your daughter tells you the
truth: Isabella left us by your command,
and has not returned since; but, my good
lord, compose yourself: retire to your rest:
this dismal day has disordered you. Isabella shall await your orders in the morning.-What then, you know where she is !
cried Manfred; tell me directly, for I will
not lose an instant: and you, woman,
speaking to his wife, order your chaplain
to attend me forthwith.-Isabella, said
Hippolita calmly, is retired, I suppose, to
her chamber: she is not accustomed to
watch at this late hour. Gracious my
lord, continued she, let me know what has
disturbed you. Has Isabella offended you ?
-Trouble me not with questions, said
Manfred, but tell me where she is. Matilda shall call her, said the princess; sit
down, my lord, and resume your wonted
fortitude. What, art thou jealous of Isa.
bella, replied he, that you wish to be present at our interview ? Good heavens!
my lord, said Hippolita, what is it your
highness means? Thou wilt know ere
many minutes are passed, said this cruel
prince. Send your chaplain to me, and
wait my pleasure here. At these words he
flung out of the room in search of Isabella;
leaving the amazed ladies thunderstruck
with his words and frantic deportment,
and lost in vain conjectures on what he was
meditating.
Manfred was now returning from the
vault, attended by the peasant and a few
of his servants, whom he had obliged to accompany him. He ascended the staircase
without stopping, till he arrived at the gallery, at the door of which he met Hippoli.
ta and her chaplain. When Diego had
been dismissed by Manfred, he had gone
directly to the princess's apartment, with
the alarm of what he had seen. That excellent lady, who no more than Manfred
doubted of the reality of the vision, yet affected to treat it as a delirium of the servant. Willing, however, to save her lord
from an additional shock, and prepared, by
a series of grief, not to tremble at any accession to it; she determined to make herself the first sacrifice, if fate had marked
the present hour for their destruction,
Dismissing the reluctant Matilda to her
rest, who in vain sued for leave to accompany her mother, and attended only by her
chaplain, Hippolita had visited the gallery
and great chamber; and now, with more
serenity of soul than she had felt for many
hours, she met her lord, and assured him

that the vision of the gigantic leg and foot
was all a fable; and no doubt an impression made by fear, and the dark and dismal
hour of the night, on the minds of his servants. She and the chaplain had examined
the chamber, and found every thing in the
usual order.
Manfred, though persuaded, likehis wife,
that the vision had been no work of fancy,
recovered a little from the tempest of mind
into which so many strange events had
thrown him. Ashamed too of his inhuman
treatment of aprincess, who returned every
injury with new mars of tenderness and
duty; he felt returning love forcing itself
into his eyes; but, not less ashamed or
feeling remorse towards one against whom
he was inwardly meditating a yet more bitter outrage, he curbed the yearnings of his
heart, and did not dare to lean even towards pity. The next transition of his soul
was to exquisite villany. Presuming on
the unshaken submission of Hippolita, he
flattered himself that she would not only
acquiesce with patience in a divorce, but
would obey, if it was his pleasure, in endeavouring to persuade Isabella to give
him her hand; but ere he could indulge
his horrid hope, he reflected that Isabella
was not to be found. Coming to himself,
he gave orders that every avenue to the
castle should be strictly guarded, and
charged his domestics, on pain of their
lives, to suffer nobody to pass out. The
young peasant, to whom he spoke favourably, he ordered to remain in a small chainber on the stairs, in which there was a pallet bed, and the key of which he took away
himself, telling the youth he would talk
with him in the morning. Then, dismis.
sing his attendants, and bestowing a sullen
kind of half-nod on Hippolita, he retired to
his own chamber.

CHAP. II.
MATILDA,who, by Hippolita's order, had
retired to her apartment, was ill disposed
to take any rest. The shocking fate of her
brother had deeply affected her. She was
surprised at not seeing Isabella: but the
strange words which had fallen from her
father, and his obscure menace to the princess his wife, accompanied by the most furious behaviour, had filled hergentle mind
with terror and alarm. She waited anxiously for the return of Bianca, a young
damsel that attended her, whom she had
sent to learn what was become of Isabella.
Bianca soon appeared, and informed her
mistress of what she had gathered from the
servants, that Isabella was no where to be
found. She related the adventure of the
young peasant, who had been discovered
in the vault, though with many simple additions, from the incoherent accounts of the
domestics, and she dwelt principally on the
gigantic leg and foot which had been seen
in the gallery-chamber. This last circumstance had terrified Bianca so much that
she w's rejoiced when Matilda told her that

CASTLE OF
she would not go to rest, but would watch
till the princess should rise.
The young princess wearied herself in
conjectures on the flight of Isabella, and on
the threats of Manfred to her mother.
But what business could he have so urgent
with the chaplain? said Matilda Does he
intend to have my brother's body interred
privately in the chapel ?-Oh, madam, said
Bianca, now I guess. As you are become
his heiress, he is impatient to have you
married: he has always been raving for
more sons ; I warrant he is now impatient
for grandsons. As sure as I live, madam,
I shall see you a bride at last-Good madam, you will not cast off your faithful
Bianca : you will not put Donna Rosara
over me, now you are a great princess. My
poor Bianca, said Matilda, how fast your
thoughts amble!
I a great princess !
What hast thou seen in Manfred's behaviour since my brother's death that bespeaks any increase of tenderness to me ?
No, Bianca; his heart was ever a stranger
to-but he is my father, and I must not
complain. Nay, if heaven shuts my father's
heart against me, it overpays my little merit in the tenderness of my mother-O that
dear mother ! yes, Bianca, it is there I feel
the rugged temper of Manfred. I can support his harshness to me with patience;
but it wounds my soul when I am witness
to his causeless severity towards her. Oh !
madam,

said Bianca, all men use their

wives so, when they are weary of them.And yet you congratulated me, but now,
said Matilda, when you fancied my father
intended to dispose of me ;-I would have
you a great lady, replied Bianca, come
what will. I do not wish to see you moped
in a convent, as you would be if you had
your will, and if my lady, your mother,
who knows that a bad husband is better
than no husband at all, did not hinder you
-Bless me! what noise is that? St. Nicholas forgive me ! I was but in jest.-It
is the wind, said Matilda, whistling through
the battlements of the tower above; you
have heard it a thousand times.-Nay, said
Bianca, there was no harm, neither, in
what I said : it is no sin to talk of matri.
mony-and so, madam, as I was saying, if
my Lord Manfred should offer you a handsome young prince for a bridegroom, you
would drop him a courtesy, and tell him
you would rather take the veil ?-Thank
heaven, I am in no such danger, said Matilda : you know how many proposals for me
he has rejected.-And yet you thank him,
like a dutiful daughter, do you, madam?
-but come, madam, suppose, to-morrow
morning, he was to send for you to the
great council chamber, and there you
should find, at his elbow, a lovely young
prince, with large black eyes, a smooth
white forehead, and manly curling locks
like jet; in short, madam, a young hero,
resembling the picture of the good Alfonso
in the gallery, which you sit and gaze at
for hours together.-Do not speak lightly
of that picture, interrupted Matilda sighing :I know the adoration with which I
look at that picture is uncommon-but I

OTRANTO.

15

am not in love with a coloured panneL
The character of that virtuous prince, the
veneration with which my mother has in.
spired me for his memory, the orisons
which, I know not why, she has enjoined
me to pour forth at his tomb, all have concurred to persuade me that, somehow or
other, my destiny is linked with something
relating to him.-Lord ! madam, how
should that be? said Bianca : I have always heard that your family was no way
related to his; and I am sure I cannot conceive why my lady, the princess, sends you,
in a cold morning, or a damp evening, to
pray at his tomb: he is no saint by the almanack. If you must pray, why does she
not bid you address yourself to our great
St. Nicholas? I am sure he is the saint 1
pray to for a husband.-Perhaps my mind
would be less affected, said Matilda, if my
mother would explain her reasons to me :
but it is the mystery she observes that inspires me with this-I know not what to
call it. As she never acts from caprice, I
am sure there is some fatal secret at bottom-nay, I know there is: in her agony
of grief, for my brother's death, she drop.
ped some words that intimated as much.
Oh ! dear madam, cried Bianca, what were
they ?-No, said Matilda; if a parent lets
fall a word and wishes it recalled, it is not
for a child to utter it.-What! was she
sorry for what she had said ? asked Bianca.
I am sure, madam, you may trust me.With my own little secrets, when I have
any, I may, said Matilda; but never with
my mother's : a child ought to have no ears
or eyes, but as a parent directs.-Well! to
be sure, madam, you was born to be a
saint, said Bianca, and there is no resisting
one's vocation : you will end in a convent
at last. But there is my lady Isabella
would not be so reserved to me: she will
let me talk to her of young men : and when
a handsome cavalier has come to the castle, she has owned to me that she wished
your brother Conrad resembled him.Bianca, said the princess, I do not allow
you to mention my friend disrespectfully.
Isabella is of a cheerful disposition, but her
soul is as pure as virtue itself. She knows
your idle babbling humour, and perhaps has
now and then encouraged it to divert melancholy, and enliven the solitude in which
my father keeps us.-Blessed Mary ! said
Bianca, starting, there it is again !-Dear
madam, do you hear nothing ? this castle
is certainly haunted.-Peace! said Matilda,
and listen ! I did think I heard a voicebut it must be fancy; your terrors, I suppose, have infected me.-Indeed! indeed!
madam, said Bianca, half-weeping with
agony, I am sure I heard a voice.-Does
any body lie in the chamber beneath ? said
the Princess.
Nobody has dared to lie
there, answered Bianca, since the great astrologer, that was your brother's tutor,
drowned himself.-For certain, madam, his
ghost and the young prince's are now met
in the chamber below-for heaven's sake
let us fly to your mother's apartment! I
charge you not to stir, said Matilda. It
they are spirits in pain, we may ease their

16

CASTLE OF OTRANTO.

sufferings by questioning them. They can
mean no hurt to us, for wehave not injured
them--and if they should, shall we be more
safe in one chamber than in another?
Reach me my beads; we will say a prayer,
and then speak to them.-Oh! dear lady,
I would not speak to a ghost for the world,
cried Bianca.-As she said these words,
they heard the casement of the little chamber below Matilda's open. They listened
attentively, and in a few minutes thought
they heard a person sing, but could not distinguish the words. This can be no evil
spirit, said the princess, in a low voice: it
is undoubtedly one of the family-open the
window, and we shall know the voice.-I
dare not, indeed, madam, said Bianca.
Thou art a very fool, said Matilda, opening the window gently herself. The noise
the princess made was, however, heard by
the person beneath, who stopped, and they
concluded had heard the casement open.
Is any body below ? said the princess ; if
there is, speak.-Yes, said an unknown
voice. Who is it ? said Matilda. A stranger, replied the voice. What stranger ?
said she,-and how didst thou come here,
at this unusual hour, when all the gates of
the castle are locked ?-1 am not here willingly, answered the voicebut pardon
me, lady, if I have disturbed your rest : I
knew not that I was overheard. Sleep had
forsaken me : I left a restless couch, and
came to waste the irksome hours with gazing on the fair approach of morning, impatient to be dismissed from this castle.-Thy
and accents, said Matilda, are of a
melancholy cast : if thou art unhappy, I
pity thee. If poverty afflicts thee, let me
know it : I will mention thee to the princess, whose beneficent soul ever melts for
the distressed; and she will relieve thee.I am indeed unhappy, said the stranger,
and I know not what wealth is: but I do
Shot complain of the lot which heaven has
cast for me: I am young and healthy, and
am not ashamed of owing my support to
myself-yet think me not proud, or that I
disdain your generous offers. I will remember you in my orisons, and will pray
for blessings on your gracious self, and
your noble mistress-if I sigh, lady, it is
for others, not for myself.-Now I have it,
madam, said Bianca, whispering the princess. This is certainly the young peasant :
and by my conscience he is in loveWell! this is a charming adventure!-do,
madam, let us sift him. He does not know
you, but takes you for one of my lady Hippolita's women.-Art thou not ashamed,
Bianca! said the princess. What right
have we to pry into the secrets of this
young man's heart? he seems virtuous and
frank, and tells us he is unhappy: are
those circumstances that authorize us to
make a property of him ? how are we entitled to his confidence ?-Lord! madam,
how little you know of love! replied Bianca: why lovers have no pleasure equal to
talking of their mistress.-And would you
have me become a peasant's confident ? said
the princess. Well then, let me talk to
him, sad Bianca: though I have the hon-

'words

our of being your highness's maid of
honour, I was not always so great: be.
sides, if love levels ranks, it raises them
too. 1 have a respect for any young man
in love.-Peace! simpleton, said the prin.
cess; though he said he was unhappy, it
does not follow that he must be in love.
Think of all that has happened to-day, and
tell me if there are no misfortunes but
what love causes. Stranger, resumed the
princess, if thy misfortunes have not been
occasioned by thy own fault, and are within the compass of the Princess Hippolita's
power to redress, I will take upon me to
answer that she will be thy protectress.
When thou art dismissed from this castle,
repair to holy father Jerome, at the conven~ adjoining to the church of St. Nicholas, and make thy story known to him, as
far as thou thinkest meet : he will not fail
to inform the princess, who is the mother
of all that want her assistance. Farewell ;
it is not seemly for me to hold farther
converse with a man at this unwonted
hour.-May the saints guard thee, gracious
lady replied the peasant, but oh ! if a poor
and worthless stranger might presume to
beg a minute's audience farther-am I so
happy ?-the casement is not shut-might
I venture to ask-Speak quickly, said
Matilda; the morning dawns apace:
should the labourers come into the fields
and perceive us-What wouldst thou ask ?
-I know not how-I know not if I daresaid the young stranger, faltering,yet
the humanity with which you have spoken
to me emboldens-Lady ! dare I trust you?
-Heavens ! said Matilda, what dost thou
mean ? with what wouldst thou trust me ?
-speak boldly, if thy secret is fit to be
intrusted to a virtuous breast. I would
ask, said the peasant, recollecting himself,
whether what I have heard from the
domestics is true, that the princess is
missing from the castle? What imports
it to thee to know ? replied Matilda. Thy
first words bespoke a prudent and becoming
gravity. Dost thou come hither to pry into the secrets of Manfred? Adieu. I
have been mistaken in thee. Saying these
words, she shut the casement hastily, with.
out giving the young man time to reply. I
had acted more wisely, said the princess to
Bianca, with some sharpness, if I had iet
thee converse with this peasant: his inquisitiveness seems of a piece with thy
own. It is not fit for me to argue with
your highness, replied Bianca, but perhaps
the questions I should have put to him
would have been more to the purpose than
those you have been pleased to ask
him! Oh ! no doubt, said Matilda, you
are a very discreet personage ! may I know
what you would have asked him ? A bystander often sees more of the game than
those that play, answered Bianca. Does
your highness think, madam, that his
question about my Lady Isabella was the
result of mere curiosity ? No, madam;
there is more in it than you great folks are
aware of. Lopez told me that all the
servants believe this young fellow contrived
my Lady Isabella's escape-now, pray,

CASTLE OF OTRAN'lO.
madam, observe-you and I both know
that my Lady Isabella never much fancied
the prince your brother-Well ! he is killed
just in the critical minute-I accuse nobody. A helmet falls from the moon-so
my lord, your father, says ; but Lopez and
all the servants say that this young spark
is a magician, and stole it from Alfonso's
tomb-Have done with this rhapsody of
impertinence, said Matilda. Nay, madam,
as you please, cried Bianca; yet it is very
particular, though, that my Lady Isabella
should be missing the very same day, and
that this young sorcerer should be found
at the mouth of the trap-door-I accuse
nobody-but if my young lord came honestly by his death-Dare not, on thy duty,
said Matilda, to breathe a suspicion on the
purity of my dear Isabella's fame. Purity
or not purity, said Bianca, gone she is-a
stranger is found that nobody knows : you
question him yourself; he tells you he is in
love, or unhappy, it is the same thingnay, he owned he was shappy about
others; and is any body unhappy about
another, unless they are in love with
them? and at the very next word, he asks,
innocently, poor soul ! if my Lady Isabella
is missing. To be sure, said Matilda, thy
observations are not totally without foun,Jation-Isabella's flight amazes me : the
curiosity of this stranger is very particular
-yet Isabella never concealed a thought
from me. So she told you, said Bianca, to
fish out your secrets-but who knows,
madam, but this stranger may be some
prince in disguise ? do, madam, let me
open the window, and ask him a few
questions. No, replied Matilda, I will ask
him myself, if he knows aught of Isabella :
he is not worthy that I should converse
farther with him. She was going to
open the casement, when they heard the
bell ring at the postern gate of the castle,
which is on the right hand of the tower,
where Matilda lay. "Ihis prevented the
princess from renewing the conversation
with the stranger.
After continuing silent for some time; I
am persuaded, said she, to Bianca, that
whatever be the cause of Isabella's flight,
it had no unworthy motive. If this stranger was accessary to it, she must be satisfied
of his fidelity and worth. I observed, did
not you, Bianca? that his words were
tinctured with an uncommon infusion of
piety. It was no ruffian's speech : his
phrases were becoming a man of gentle
birth.-I told you, madam, said Bianca,
that I was sure he was some prince in disguise-Yet, said Matilda, if he was privy to
her escape, how will you account for his
not accompanying her in her flight ?-why
expose himself, unnecessarily and rashly, to
my father's resentment ?-As for that,
madam, replied she, if he could get from
under the helmet, he will find ways of
eluding your father's anger. I do not
doubt but he has some talisman or other
about him.-You resolve every thing into
magic, said Matilda; but a man who has
any intercourse with infernal spirits does
not dare to make use of those tremendous

17

and holy words which he uttered. Didst
thou not observe with what fervour he
vowed to remember me to heaven in his
prayers ?-yes; Isabella was undoubtedly
convinced of his piety.-Commend me to
the piety of a young fellow and a damsel
that consult to elope ! said Bianca. No, No,
madam : my Lady Isabella is of another
guess mould than you take her for. She
used, indeed, to sigh, and lift up her eyes
in your company, because she knows you
are a saint-but when your back was
turned-You wrong her, said Matilda :
Isabella is no hypocrite: she has a due
sense of devotion, but never affected a call
she has not. On the contrary, she always
combated my inclination for the cloister ;
and though I own the mystery she has
made to me of her flight confounds me;
though it seems inconsistent with the
friendship between us, I cannot forget the
disinterested warmth with which she
always opposed my taking the veil: she
wished to see me married, though my
dower would have been a loss to her and
my brother's children. For her sake, I
will believe well of this young peasant.Then you do think there is some liking
between them, said Bianca. While she
was speaking, a servant came hastily into
the chamber, and told the princess that the
Lady Isabella was found. Where? said
Matilda. She has taken sanctuary in St.
Nicholas's church, replied the servant :
father Jerome has brought the news himself: he is below with his highness.Where is my mother? said Matilda. She
is in her own chamber, madam, and has
asked for you.
Manfred had risen at the first dawn of
light, and gone to Hippolita's apartment,
to inquire if she knew aught of Isabella.
While he was questioning her, word was
brought that Jerome demanded to speak with
him. Manfred, little suspecting the cause
of the friar's arrival, and knowing he was
employed by Hippolita, in her charities,
ordered him to be admitted, intending to
leave them together, while he pursued his
search after Isabella. Is your business
with me or the princess? said Manfred.
With both, replied the holy man. The
Lady Isabella-What of her? interrupted
Manfred, eagerly-Is at St. Nicholas's altar,
replied Jerome. That is no business of
Hippolita, said Manfred, with confusion.
Let us retire to my chamber, father; and
inform me how she came thither.-No, my
lord, replied the good man, with an air of
firmness and authority that daunted even
the resolute Manfred, who could not help
revering the saint-like virtues of Jerome:
My commission is to both: and, with your
highness's good liking, in the presence of
both I shall deliver it-but first, my lord,
must interrogate the princess, whether
she is acquainted with the cause of the
Lady Isabella's retirement from your castle?
-No, on my soul, said Hippolita; does
Isabella charge me with being privy to it ?
Father, interrupted Manfred, I lay due
reverence to your holy profession; but I
am sovereign here, and will allow no med.

18

CASTLE OF OTRANTO.

dling priest to interfere in the affairs of my forbad that connection, has for ever dis.
domestic. If you have aught to say, at- solved all ties betwixt you: and I announce
tend me to my chamber-I do not use to to your highness-Stop! audacious man,
let my wife be acquainted with the secret said Manfred, and dread my displeasure.
affairs of my state; they are not within a -Holy father, said Hippolita, it is your
woman's province.-My lord, said the holy office to be no respecter of persons : you
man, I am no intruder into the secrets of must speak as your duty prescribes : but it
families. My office is to promote peace, to is my duty to hear nothing that it pleases
heal divisions, to preach repentance, and not my lord I should hear. Attend the
teach mankind to curb their headstrong prince to his chamber. I will retire to my
passions. I forgive your highness's un- oratory, and pray to the blessed virgin to
charitable apostrophe: I know my duty, inspire you with her aoly counsels, and to
and am the minister of a mightier prince restore the heart of my gracious lord to its
than Manfred. Hearken to him who wonted peace and gentleness. Excellent
speaks through my organs. Manfred trem- woman! said the friar-My lord, I attend
bled with rage and shame. Hippolita's your pleasure.
Manfred, accompanied by the friar, passcountenance declared her astonishment
and impatience to know where this would ed to his own apartment, where shutting
end: her silence more strongly spoke her the door, I perceive, father, said he, that
Isabella has acquainted you with my purobservance of Manfred.
The Lady Isabella, resumed Jerome, pose. Now hear my resolve, and obey.
commends herself to both your highnesses ; Reasons of state, most urgent reasons, my
she thanks both for the kindness with own and the safety of my people demand
which she has been treated in your castle : that I should have a son. It is in vain to
she deplores the loss of your son, and her expect an heir from Hippolita. I have
own misfortunes in not becoming the made choice of Isabella. You must bring
daughter of such wise and noble princes, her back: and you must do more. I know
whom she shall always' respect as parents ; the influence you have with Hippolita: her
she prays for uninterrupted union and conscience is in your hands. She is, I alfelicity between you: (Manfred's colour low, a faultless woman : her soul is set on
changed) but as it is no longer possible for heaven, and scorns the little grandeur of
her to be allied to you, she entreats your this world : you can withdraw her from it
consent to remain in sanctuary, till she can entirely. Persuade her to consent to the
learn news of her father, or, by the cer. dissolution of our marriage, and to retire
tainty of his death, be at liberty, with the into a monastery: she shall endow one if
approbation of her guardians, to dispose of she will; and she shall have the means of
herself in suitable marriage.-I shall give being as liberal to your order, as she or you
no such consent, said the prince, but insist can wish. Thus you will divert the calaon her return to the castle without delay : mities that are hanging over our heads,
I am answerable for her person to her and have the merit of saving the principaguardians, and will not brook her being in lity of Otranto from destruction. You are
any hands but my own. Your highness a prudent man, and though the warmth of
will recollect whether that can any longer my temper betrayed me into some unbebe proper, replied the friar.-I want no coming expressions, I honour your virtue,
remonitor, said Manfred, colouring; Isabel- and wish to be indebted to you for the my
la's conduct leaves room for strange sus- pose of my life and the preservation of
picions-and that young villain, who was family.
The will of heaven be done ! said the
at least the accomplice of her flight, if not
The cause I interrupted friar. I am but its worthless instrument.
the cause of itIt makes use of my tongue to tell thee,
young man the cause ?Jerome, was a
This is not to be borne ! cried Manfred. prince, of thy unwarrantable designs. The
Am I to be bearded in my own palace by iijuries of the virtuous Hippolita havi
an insolent monk ? Thou art privy, I guess, mounted to the throne of pity. By m4
to their amours.-I would pray to heaven thou art reprimanded for thy adulterous
to clear up your uncharitable surmises, intention of repudiating her : by me thos
said Jerome, if your highness were not art warned not to pursue the incestuous
satisfied in your conscience how unjustly design on thy contracted daughter. Heayou accuse me. I do pray to heaven to ven, that delivered her from thy fury,
pardon that uncharitableness : and I im- when the judgments so recently fallen on
ulore your highness to leave the princess at thy house ought to have inspired thee with
peace in that holy place, where she is not other thoughts, will continue to watch over
liable to be disturbed by such vain and her. Even I, a poor and despised friar,
worldly fantasies as discourses of love from am able to protect her from thy violenceany man.-Cant not with me, said Manfred, I, sinner as I am, and uncharitably reviled
but return, and bring the princess to her by your highness as an accomplice of I
duty.-It is my duty to prevent her return know not what amours, scorn the allurehither, said Jerome.-She is where orphans rments with which it has pleased thee to atand virgins are safest from the snares and tempt mine honesty. I love my order; I
Wiles of this world ; and nothing but a honour devout souls : I respect the piety of
thy princess-but I will not betray the con.
parent's authority shall take her thence.I am her parent, cried Manfred, and de- fidence she reposes in me, nor serve even
her,.-She wished to have you for her the cause of religion by foul and sinful
mand
parent; said the friar: but heaven, that compliances-but, forsooth! the welfar'e of

CASTLE OF
,the state depends on your highness having
a son ! Heaven mocks the shortsighted
views of man. But yester morn, whose
house was so great, so flourishing as Manfred's ? where is young Conrad now ! My
lord, I respect your tears-but I mean not
to check them-let them flow, prince ! they
will weigh more with heaven, toward the
welfare of thy subjects, than a marriage,
which, founded on lust or policy, could
never prosper. The sceptre, which passed
from the race of Alfonso to thine, cannot
be preserved by a match which the church
will never allow. If it is the will of the
Most High that Manfred's name must perish, resign yourself, my lord, to its decrees;
and thus deserve a crown that can never
pass away. Come, my lord, I like this sorrow-let us return to the princess: she is
not apprised of your cruel intentions : nor
did I mean more than to alarm you. You
saw with what gentle patience, with what
efforts of love, she heard, she rejected hearing the extent of your guilt. I know she
longs to fold you in her arms, and assure
you of her unalterable affection.
Father, said the prince, you mistake my
compunction : true, I honour Hippolita's
virtues; I think her a saint; and wish it
were for my soul's health, to tie faster the
knot that has united us-but, alas ! father,
you know not the bitterest of my pangs ! it
is some time that I have had scruples on
the legality of our union: Hippolita is related to me in the fourth degree-it is true,
we had a dispensation: but I have been
informed that she had also been contracted
to another. This it is that sits heavy at
my heart : to this state of unlawful wedlock, I impute the visitation that has fallen on me in the death of Conrad !-ease
my conscience of this burthen : dissolve our
marriage, and accomplish the work of godliness, which your divine exhortations have
commenced in my soul.
How cutting was the anguish which the
good man felt, when he perceived this turn
in the wily prince! He trembled for Hippolita, whose ruin he saw was determined ;
and he feared, if Manfred had no hope of
recovering Isabella, that his impatience for
a son would direct him to some other object, who might not be equally proof against
the temptation (f Manfred's rank. For
some time the holy man remained absorbed
in thought. At length, conceiving some
hopes from delay, he thought the wisest
conduct would be to prevent the prince
from despairing of recovering Isabella. Her
the friar knew he could dispose, from her
affection to Hippolita, and from the aversion she had expressed to him for Manfred's addresses, to second his views, till the
censures of the church could be fulminated
against a divorce. With this intention, as
if struck with the prince's scruples, he at
length said, My lord, I have been pondering on what your highness has said; and
if in truth it is delicacy of conscience that
is the real motive ofyour repugnance to your
virtuous lady, far be it from me to endeaYour to harden your heart. The church is
an indulgent mother: unfold your griefs to

OTRANTO.

19

her : she alone can administer comfort to
your soul, either by satisfying your conscience, or, upon examination of your scru.
ples, by setting you at liberty, and indulg.
ing you the lawful means of continuing
your lineage. In the latter case, if the
lady Isabella can be brought to consent
Manfred, who concluded that he had
either overreached the good man, or that
his first warmth had been but a tribute paid
to appearance, was overjoyed at his sudden
turn, and repeated the most magnificent
promises, if he should succeed by the friar's
mediation. The well meaning priest suffered him to deceive himself, fully determined to traverse his views, instead of seconding them.
Since we now understand one another,
resumed the prince, I expect, father, that
you satisfy me in one point. Who is the
youth that I found in the vault? He must
have been privy to Isabella's flight : tell me
truly : is he her lover? or is he an agent
for another's passion ? I have often suspected Isabella's indifference to my son: a
thousand circumstances crowd on my mind,
that confirm that suspicion. She herself
was so conscious of it that, while I discoursed her in the gallery, she outran my
suspicions, and endeavoured to justify herself from coolness to Conrad. The friar,
who knew nothing of the youth, but
what he had learned occasionally from the
princess, ignorant what was become of him,
and not sufficiently reflecting on the impetuosity of Manfred's temper, conceived
that it might not be amiss to sow the seeds
of jealousy in his mind : they might be
turned to some use hereafter, either by prejudicing the prince against Isabella, if he
persisted in that union; or by diverting
his attention to a wrong scent, and employ.
ing his thoughts on a visionary intrigue,
prevent his engaging in any new pursuit.
With this unhappy policy, he answered in
a manner to confirm Manfred in the belief of some connection between Isabella
and the youth. The prince, whose passions wanted little fuel to throw them into
a blaze, fell into a rage at the idea of what
the friar suggested. I will fathom to the
bottom of this intrigue, cried he, and quit.
ting Jerome abruptly, with a command to
remain there till his return, he hastened to
the great hall of the castle, and ordered the
peasant to be brought before him.
Thou hardened young impostor, said the
prince, as soon as he saw the youth; what
becomes of thy boasted veracity now? It
was Providence, was it, and the light of the
moon, that discovered the lock of the trapdoor to thee!
Tell me, audacious boy,
who thou art, and how long thou hast beers
acquainted with the princess-and take
care to answer with less equivocation than
thou didst last night, or tortures shall
wring the truth from thee. The young
man, perceiving that his share in the flight
of the princess was discovered, and concluding that any thing he should say could
no longer be of service or detriment to her,
replied, I am no impostor, my lord, nor
have I deserved opprobrious language.

20

CASTLE OF OTRANTO.

answered to every question your highness
put to me last night, with the same veracity that I shtall speak now: and that will
not be from fear of your tortures, but because my soul abhors a falsehood. Please
to repeat your questions, my lord; I am
ready to give you all the satisfaction
.n my power. You know my questions,
:eplied the prince, and only want time
to prepare an evasion. Speak directly :
who art thou ? and how long hast thou
been known to the princess? I am a labourer at the next village, said the peasant; my name is Theodore. The princess
found me in the vault last night : before
that hour I never was in her presence. I
may believe as much or as little as I please
of this, said Manfred, but I will hear thy
own story, before I examine into the truth
of it. Tell me what reason did the princess
give thee for making her escape? thy life
depends on thy answer. She told me, replied Theodore, that she was on the brink
of destruction, and that, if she could not
escape from the castle, she was in danger,
a few moments, of being made miserable
for ever. And on this slight foundation,
on a silly girl's report, said Manfred, thou
didst hazard my displeasure? I fear no
man's displeasure, said Theodore, when a
woman in distress puts herself under my
protection. During this examination, Matilda was going to the apartment of Hippolita. At the upper end of the ball, where
Manfred sat, was a boarded gallery, with
latticed windows, through which Matilda
and Bianca were to pass. Hearing her father's voice, and seeing the servants assembled round him, she stopped to learn the
occasion. The prisoner soon drew her attention : the steady and composed manner
in which he answered, and the gallantry of
his last reply, which were the first words
she heard distinctly, interested her in his
favour. His person was noble, handsome,
and commanding, even in that situation :
but his countenance soon engrossed her
whole care. Heavens ! Bianca, said the
princess, softly, do I dream ? or is not that
youth the exact resemblance of Alfonso's
picture in the gallery? She could say no
more, for her father's voice grew louder at
every word. This bravado, says he, surpasses all thy former insolence. Thou shalt
experience the wrath with which thou darest to trifle. Seize him, continued Manfred, and bind him-the first news the
princess hears of her champion, shall be
that he has lost his head for her sake. The
injustice of which thou art guilty towards
me, said Theodore, convinces me that I
have done a good deed in delivering the
princess from thy tyranny. May she be
happy, whatever becomes of me!-This is
a lover! cried Manfred, in a rage: a peasant within sight of death is not animated
by such sentiments. Tell me, tell me, rash
boy, who thou art, or the rack shall force
the secret from thee. Thou hast threatened me with death already, said the youth,
for the truth I have told thee : if that is
all the encouragement I am to expect for
gincerity, I am not tempted to indulge thy

,n

vain curiosity farther. Then thou wilt not
speak? said Manfred. I will not, replied
he. Bear him away into the court yard,
said Manfred; I will see his head this
instant severed from his body. Matilda
fainted at hearing these words. Bianca
shrieked, and cried, Help ! help ! the princess is dead ! Manfred started at this ejaculation, and demanded what was the matter ! the young peasant, who heard it too,
was struck with horror, and asked eagerly
the same question; but Manfred ordered
him to be hurried into the court, and kept
there for execution, till he had informed
himself of Bianca's shrieks. When he
learned the meaning, he treated it as a
womanish panic, and ordering Matilda to
be carried to her apartment, he rushed
into the court, and calling for one of hia
guards, bade Theodore kneel down, and
prepare to receive the fatal blow.
The undaunted youth received the bitter
sentence with a resignation that touched
every heart but Manfred's. He wished
earnestly to know the meaning of the
words he had heard relating to the princess ; but fearing to exasperate the tyrant
more against her, he desisted. The only
boon he deigned to ask, was, that he might
be permitted to have a confessor, and
make his peace with heaven. Manfred,
who hoped, by the confessor's means, to
come at the youth's history, readily granted
his request; and being convinced that
father Jerome was now in his interest, he
ordered him to be called, and shrieve the
prisoner. The holy man, who had little
foreseen the catastrophe that his impru.
dence occasioned, fell on his knees to the
prince, and adjured him, in the most
solemn manner, not to shed innocent
blood. He accused himself in the bitterest
terms for his indiscretion, endeavoured to
exculpate the youth, and left no method
untried to soften the tyrant's rage. Manfred, more incensed than appeased by
Jerome's intercession, whose retraction
now made him suspect he had been imposed upon by both, commanded the friar
to do his duty, telling him he would not
allow the prisoner many minutes for confession. Nor do I ask many, my lord, said
the unhappy young man; my sins, thank
heaven, have not been numerous; nor
exceed what might be expected at my
ears. Dry your tears, good father, and
let us despatch: this is a bad world, nor
have I cause to leave it with regret.-Oh !
wretched youth ! said Jerome; how canst
thou bear the sight of me with patience ? I
am thy murderer ! it is I that have brought
this dismal hour upon thee !-1 forgive
thee from my soul, said the youth, as I
hope heaven will pardon me. Hear my
confession, father, and give me thy bless.
ing.-How can I prepare thee for thy passage as 1 ought? said Jerome. Thou canst
not be saved without pardoning thy foesand canst thou forgive that impious man
there? I can, said Theodore; 1 do.-And
does not this touch thee ? cruel prince !
said the friar.-1 sent for thee to confess
him, said Manfred, sternly not to plead

CASTLE OF OTRANTO.
for him. Thou didst first incense me
igainst him-his blood be upon thy head !
-- It will! it will! said the good man, in an
agony of sorrow. Thou and I must never
hope to go where this blessed youth is going !-Despatch! said Manfred: I am no
more to be moved by the whiningofpriests
than by the shrieks of women.-What !
said the youth, is it possible that my fate
could have occasioned what I heard! is
.he princess again in thy power ?-Thou
dost but remember me of my wrath, said
Manfred : prepare thee, for this moment
is thy last. The youth, who felt his indignation rise, and who was touched with the
sorrow which he saw he had infused into
all the spectators, as well as into the friar,
suppressed his emotions, and putting off his
doublet, and unbuttoning his collar, knelt
down to his prayers. As he stooped, his
shirt slipped down below his shoulder, and
discovered the mark of a bloody arrow.
Gracious heaven! cried the holy man,
starting, what do I see ! It is my child ! my
Theodore !
The passions that ensued must be conceived; they cannot be painted. The tears
of the assistants were suspended by wonder
rather than stopped by joy. They seemed
to inquire in the eyes of their lord what
they ought to feel. Surprise, doubt, tenderness, respect succeeded each other in
the countenance of the youth. He received, with modest submission, the effusion of the old man's tears and embraces;
yet afraid of giving a loose to hope, and
,.uspecting from what passed, the inflexioility of Manfred's temper, he cast a glance
towards the prince, as if to say, canst thou
be unmoved at such a scene as this ?
Manfred's heart was capable of being
touched. He forgot his anger in his astonishment; yet his pride forbade his owning
himself affected. He even doubted whether
this discovery was not a contrivance of the
friar to save the youth. What may this
mean ? said he: how can he be thy son ? Is
it consistent with thy profession or reputed
sanctity to avow a peasant's offspring for
the fruit of thy irregular amours !-Oh
God, said the holy man, dost thou question
.is being mine? could I feel the anguish
I do, if I were not his father? Spare him!
good prince, spare him! and revile me as
thou pleasest.-Spare him! spare him !
cried the attendants, for this good man's
sake !-Peace ! said Manfred, sternly ; I
must know more, ere I am disposed to
pardon.-A saint's bastard may be no saint
himself.-Injurious lord ! said Theodore,
add not insult to cruelty. If 1 am this
venerable man's son, though no prince, as
thou art, know, the blood that flows in my
veins-Yes, said the friar, interrupting him,
his blood is noble; nor is he that abject
thing, my lord, you speak him. He is my
lawful son; and Sicily can boast of few
houses more ancient than that of Falconara-but alas! my lord, what is blood! what
is nobility ! We are all reptiles, miserable
sinful creatures. It is piety alone that can
distinguish us from the dust whence we
sprung, and whither we must return.-

21

Truce to your sermon, said Manfred ; you
forget you are no longer friar Jerome, but
the Count of Falconara. Let me know
your history; you will have time to moralize hereafter, if you should not happen to
obtain the grace of that sturdy criminal
there.-Mother of God! said the friar, is
it possible my lord can refuse a father the
life of his only son, his long-lost child!
Trample me, my lord, scorn, afflict me,
accept my life for his, but spare my son
Thou canst feel, then, said Manfred, what
it is to lose an only son ?-a little hour ago
thou didst preach up resignation to me:
my house, if Fate so pleased, must perish
-but the Count of Falconara.-Alas! my
lord, said Jerome, I confess I have offended ; but aggravate not an old man's sufferings; I boast not of my family, nor think of
such vanities-it is nature that pleads for
this boy; it is the memory of the dear
woman that bore him-is she, Theodore, is
she dead ?-Her soul has long been with
the blessed, said Theodore.-Oh ! how
cried Jerome, tell me-No-she is happy !
thou art all my care now!-Most dread
lord ! will you grant me my poor boy's life3
-Return to thy convent, answered Man.
conduct the princess hither; obey me
in what else thou knowest; and I promise
thee the life of thy son.-Oh ! my lord, said
Jerome, is my honesty the price I must
pay for this dear youth's safety? For me!
cried. Theodore; let me die a thousand
deaths, rather than stain thy conscience.
What is it the tyrant would exact of thee?
is the princess still safe from his power ?
protect her, thou venerable old man: and
let all the weight of his wrath fall on me.
Jerome endeavoured to check the impe.
tuosity of the youth; and ere Manfred
could reply, the trampling of horses was
heard, and a brazen trumpet, which hung
without the gate of the castle, was suddenly sounded. At the same instant the sable
plumes on the enchanted helmet, which
still remained at the other end of the court,
were tempestuously agitated, and nodded
thrice, as if bowed by some invisible
wearer.

!_

;red;

CHAP. III.
NF RED

MA
's heart misgave him when he
beheld the plumage on the miraculous
casque shaken in concert with the sounding
of the brazen trumpet. Father ! said he
to Jerome, whom he now ceased to treat
as Count of Falconara, what mean these
portents ? If I have offended-the plumes
were shaken with greater violence thar
before.-Unhappy prince that I am ! cried
Manfred-Holy father! will you not assist
me with your prayers ?-My lord, replied
Jerome, heaven is no doubt displeased
with your mockery of its servants. Sub.
mit youself to the church: and cease to
persecute htier ministers. Dismiss this
innocent youth; and learn to respect the
holy character I wear : Heaven will not be
trifed with : you see-the trumpet sounded

22

CASTLE OF OTRANTO.

again. I acknowledge I have been too
hasty, said Manfred.-Father, do you go
to the wicket, and demand who is at the
gate.-Do you grant me the life of Theodore? replied the friar.-I do, said Manfred; but inquire who is without !
Jerome, falling on the neck of his son,
discharged a flood of tears, that spoke the
fulness of his soul. You promised to go
to the gate; said Manfred.-I thought,
replied the friar, your highness would
excuse my thanking you first in this tribute
of my heart. Go, dearest sir, said Theodore, obey the prince : I do not deserve
that you should delay his satisfaction for
ime.
Jerome, inquiring who was without, was
answered, A herald.-From whom? said
he. From the Knight of the Gigantic
Sabre, said the herald ; and I must speak
with the usurper of Otranto. Jerome returned to the prince, and did not fail to
repeat the message in the very words it
had been uttered. The first sounds struck
Manfred with terror; but when he heard
himself styled usurper, his rage rekindled,
and all his courage revived. Usurper !insolent villain! cried he, who dares to
question my title? Retire, father : this is
no business for monks : I will meet this
presumptuous man myself. Go to your
convent, and prepare the princess's return:
your son shall be a hostage for your fidelity;
his life depends on your obedience. Good
heaven ! my lord, cried Jerome, your highness did but this instant freely pardon my
child,-have you so soon forgot the interposition of heaven ?-Heaven, replied Manfred, does not send heralds to question the
title of a lawful prince;-I doubt whether
it even notifies its will through friars;but that is your affair-not mine. At
present you know my pleasure, and it is
not a saucy herald that shall save your son,
if you do not return with the princess.
It was in vain for the holy man to reply.
-Manfred commanded him to be conducted to the postern gate, and shut out from
the castle : and he ordered some of his attendants to carry Theodore to the top of
the black tower and guard him strictly;
scarce permitting the father and son to
exchange a hasty embrace at parting. He
then withdrew to the hall, and, seating
himself in princely state, ordered the herald
to be admitted to his presence.
Well! thou insolent ! said the prince,
what wouldst thou with me ?-I come, replied he, to thee, Manfred, usurper of the
principality of Otranto, from the renowned
and invincible knight, the Knight of the
Gigantic Sabre : in the name of his lord,
Frederick Marquis of Vicenza, he demands the Lady Isabella, daughter of that
prince, whom thou hast basely and traitorously got into thy power, by bribing her
false guardians during his absence; and he
requires thee to resign the principality of
Otranto, which thou hast usurped from
the said Lord Frederick, the nearest of
blood to the last rightful Lord Alfonzo the
good. If thou dost not instantly comply
with these just demands, he defies thee to

single combat to the last extremity. And
so saying, the herald cast down his warder.
And where is this braggart who sends
thee? said Manfred. At the distance of a
league, said the herald: he comes to make
good his lord's claim against thee, as he is
a true knight, and thou an usurper and
a ravisher.
Injurious as this challenge was, Manfred
reflected that it was not his interest to pro.
voke the Marquis. He knew how well
founded the claim of Frederick was; nor
was this the first time he had heard of it.
Frederick's ancestors had assumed the style
of Princes of Otranto, from the death of
Alfonzo the good, without issue; but Man.
fred, his father, and grandfather, had been
too powerful for the house of Vicenza to
dispossess them. Frederick, a martial and
amorous young prince, married a beautiful younglady, of whom he was enamoured, and who had died in childbed of Isabella. Her death affected him so much that
he had taken the cross, and gone to the
Holy Land, where he was wounded, in an
engagement against the infidels, made pri.
soner, and reported to be dead. When the
news reached Manfred's ears, hebribed the
guardians of the Lady Isabella to deliver
her up to him, as a bride for his son Conrad; by which alliance he had proposed to
unite the claims of the two houses. This
motive, on Conrad's death, had co-operated
to make him so suddenly resolve on espousing her himself, and the same reflec
tion determined him now to endeavour at
obtaining the consent of Frederick to this
marriage. A like policy inspired him with
the thought of inviting Frederick's chain.
pion into his castle, lest he should be informed of Isabella's flight, which he strictly enjoined his domestics not to disclose to
any of the knight's retinue.
Herald, said Manfred, as soon as he had
digested these reflections, return to thy
master, and tell him, ere we liquidate our
differences by the sword, Manfred would
hold some converse with him. Bid him
welcome to my castle, where, by my faith,
as I am a true knight, he shall have cour.
teous reception, and full security for him.
self and followers, If we cannot adjust our
quarrel by amicable means, I swear hc
shall depart in safety, and shall have full
satisfaction, according to the laws of arms;
so help me God and his holy Trinity! The
herald made three obeisances, and retired.
During this interview, Jerome's mind
was agitated by a thousand contrary pas.
sions. He trembled for the life of his son,
and his first thought was to persuade Isa.
bella to return to the castle. Yet he was
scarce less alarmed at the thought of her
union with Manfred. He dreaded Hippo
lita's unbounded submission to the will or
her lord; and though he did not doubt but
he could alarm her piety, not to consent to
a divorce, if he could get access to her;
yet, should Manfred discover that the ob.
struction came from him, it might be equal.
ly fatal to Theodore. He was impatient to
know whence came the herald, who, with
so little management, had questioned the

CASTLE OF OTRANTO.
title of Manfred; yet he did not dare absent himself from the convent, lest Isabella
should leave it, and her flight be imputed
to him. He returned disconsolately to the
monastery, uncertain on what conduct to
resolve. A monk, who met him in the
porch, and observed his melancholy air,
said, Alas ! brother, is it, then, true, that we
have lost our excellent Princess Hippolita ?
The holy man started, and cried, What
meanest thou, brother? I came this instant from the castle, and left her in perfect
health.-Martelli, replied the other friar,
passed by the convent, but a quarter of an
hour ago, on his way from the castle, and
reported that her highness was dead. All
our brethren are gone to the chapel, to
pray for her happy transit to a better life,
and willed me to wait thy arrival. They
know thy holy attachment to that good
lady, and are anxious for the affliction it
will cause in thee-indeed, we have all reason to weep: she was a mother to our
house.--But this life is but a pilgrimage;
we must not murmur: we shall all follow
her ! may our end be like hers.-Good
brother, thou dre~mest, said Jerome: I
tell thee I come from the castle, and left
the princess well. Where is the Lady Isabella P-Poor gentlewoman! replied the
friar; I told her the sad news, and offered
her spiritual comfort; I reminded her of
the transitory condition of mortality, and
advised her to take the veil: I quoted the
example of the holy Princess Sanchia of
Arragon.-Thy zeal was laudable, said Jerome, impatiently; but at present it is unnecessary : Hippolita is well-at least I
trust in the Lord she is; I heard nothing
to the contrary ;-yet methinks the prince's
earnestness-Well, brother, but where is
the lady Isabella ?-I know not, said the
friar; she wept much, and said she would
retire to her chamber. Jerome left his
comrade abruptly, and hastened to the
princess ; but she was not in her chamber.
He inquired of the domestics of the convent, but could learn no news of her. He
searched in vain throughout the monastery
and the church, and dispatched messengers
round the neighbourhood, to get intelligence if she had been seen; but to no purpose. Nothing could equal the good man's
perplexity. He judged that Isabella, suspecting Manfred of having precipitated his
wife's death, had taker. the alarm, and
withdrawn herself to some more secret
place of concealment.
This new flight
would probably carry the prince's fury to
the height. The rport of Hippolita's
death, though it seemed almost incredible,
increased his consternation; and though
Isabella's escape bespoke her aversion of
Manfred for a husband, Jerome could feel
no comfort from it, while it endangered the
life of his son. He determined to return to
the castle, and made several of his brethren
accompany him to attest his innocence to
Manfred, and, if necessary, join their intercession with his for Theodore.
The prince, in the meantime, had passed
into the court, and ordered the gates of the
castle to be flung open, for the reception of

23

the stranger knight and his train. In a
few minutes the cavalcade arrived. First
came two harbingers, with wands; next a
herald, foieowed by two pages and two trumpets; then a hundred foot guards: these
were attended by as many horse; after
them, fifty footmen, clothed in scarlet and
black, the colours of the knight, then a led
horse : two heralds on each side of a gentleman, on horseback, bearing a banner,
with the arms of Vicenza and Otrant.
quarterly-a circumstance that much offended Manfred;-but he stifled his resentment. Two more pages : the knight's
confessor telling his beads : fifty more footmen, clad as before: two knights habited
in complete armour, their beavers down,
comrades to the principal knight : the esquires of the two knights, carrying their
shields and devices : the knight's own esquire: a hundred gentlemen, bearing an
enormous sword, and seeming to faint un.
der the weight of it : the knight himself
on a chesnut steed, in complete armour,
his lance in the rest, his face entirely concealed by his vizor, which was surmounted
by a large plume of scarlet and black fea.
thers: fifty foot guards, with drums and
trumpets, closed the procession, which
wheeled off to the right and left, to make
room for the principal knight.
As soon as he approached the gate, he
stopped, and the herald advancing, read
again the words of the challenge. Manfred's eyes were fixed on the gigantic
sword, and he scarce seemed to attend to
the cartel: but his attention was soon diverted by a tempest of wind that rose behind him. He turned and beheld the
plumes of the enchanted helmet agitated in
the same extraordinary manner as before.
It required intrepidity like Manfred's, not
to sink under a concurrence of circumstances that seemed to announce his fate. Yet,
scorning in the presence of strangers, to
betray the courage he had always manifested, he said boldly, Sir Knight, whoever
thou art, I bid thee welcome. If thou art
of mortal mould, thy valour shall meet its
i equal, and if thou art a true knight, thou
wilt scorn to employ sorcery to carry thy
point. Be these omens from heaven or
hell, Manfred trusts to the righteousness of
his cause, and to the aid of at. Nicholas,
who has ever protected his house. Alight,
Sir Knight, and repose thyself. To-morrow
thou shalt have a fair field; and heaven
befriend the juster side !
The knight made no reply; but, dismounting, was conducted by Manfred to
the great hall of the castle. As they traversed the court, the knight stopped to gaze
on the miraculous casque: and kneeling
down, seemed to pray inwardly for some
minutes. Rising, he made a sign to the
prince to lead on. As soon as they entered
the hall, Manfred proposed to the stranger
to disarm, but the knight shook his head in
token of refusal. Sir Knight, said Manfred,
this is not courteous; but by my good faith
I will not cross thee; nor shalt thou have
cause to complain of the Prince of Otranto.
No treachery is designed on my part; 1

CASTLE OF OTRANTO.
hope none is intended on thine; here take
my gage: [giving him his ring] your
friends and you shall enjoy the laws of hospitality. Rest here, until refreshments are
brought: I will but give orders for the accommodation of your train, and return to
you. The three knights bowed, as accepting his courtesy. Manfred directed the
stranger's retinue to be conducted to an adjacent hospital, founded by the princess
Hippolita for the reception of pilgrims.
As they made the circuit of the court to
return towards the gate, the gigantic sword
burst from the supporters, and, falling to
the ground opposite to the helmet, remained immoveable. Manfred, almost hardened
to preternatural appearances, surmounted
the shock of this new prodigy; and, returning to the hall, where by this time the feast
was ready, he invited his silent guests to
take their places. Manfred, however ill his
heart was at ease, endeavoured to inspire
the company with mirth. He put several
questions to them, but was answered only
by signs. They raised their vizors but sufficiently to feed themselves, and that sparingly. Sirs, said the prince, ye are the first
guests I ever treated within these walls
who scorned to hold any intercourse with
me : nor has it oft been customary, I ween,
for princes to hazard their state and dignity
against strangers and mutes. You say you
come in the name of Frederick of Vicenza ;
I have ever heard that he was a gallant and
courteous knight ; nor would he, I am bold
to say, think it beneath him to mix in social converse with a prince that is his equal,
and not unknown by deeds in arms--Still
ye are silent-well! be it as it may-by the
laws of hospitality and chivalry ye are masters under this roof: ye shall do your pleasure-but come, give me a goblet of wine ;
ye will not refuse to pledge me to the
ealths of your fair mistresses. The principal knight sighed and crossed himself,
and was rising from the board-Sir Knight,
said Manfred, what I said was but in sport :
I shall constrain you in nothing : use your
good liking. Since mirth is not your mood,
let us be sad. Business may hit your fancies better : let us withdraw; and hear if
what I have to unfold, may be better relished than the vain efforts I have madefor
your pastime.
Manfred, then conducting the three
knights into an inner chamber, shut the
door, and inviting them to be seated, began
thus, addressing himself to the chief personage.
You come, SirKnight, as I understand,
in the name of the Marquis of Vicenza, to
redemand the Lady Isabella, his daughter,
who has been contracted in the face of the
holy church to my son, by the consent of
her legal guardians: and to require me to
resign my dominions to your lord, who
gives himself for the nearest of blood to
Prince Alfonzo, whose soul God rest ! I
shall speak to the latter article of your
demand first. You must know, your lord
knows, that I enjoy the principality of
Otranto from my father Don Manuel, as
he received it from his father Don Ricardo.

Alfonzo their predecessor, dy ing childless
in the Holy Land, bequeathed his estates
to my grandfather Don Ricardo, in consideration of his faithful services-the
stranger shook his head-Sir Knight, said
Manfred, warmly, Ricardo was a valiant
and upright man; he was a pious man ;
witness his munificent foundation of the
adjoining church and two convents. He
was peculiarly patronized by St. Nicholasmy grandfather was incapable-I say, sir,
Don Ricardo was incapable-excuse me,
your interruption has disordered me.-I
venerate the memory of my grandfatherwell! sirs, he held this estate; he held it
by his good sword and by the favour of St.
Nicholas-so did my father; and so, sirs,
will I, come what come will-But Frederick,
your lord, is nearest in blood-I have consented to put my title to the issue of the
sword-does that imply a vicious title ?I might have asked, where is Frederick
your lord ? Report speaks him dead in
captivity. You say, your actions say, he
lives-I question it not-I might, sirs, I
might-but I do not. Other princes would
bid Frederick take his inheritance by force,
if he can: they would not stake their
dignity on a single combat: they would not
submit it to the decision of unknown
mutes !-pardon me, gentlemen, I am too
warm: but suppose yourselves in my situation : as ye are stout knights, would it not
move your choler to have your own and
the honour of your ancestors called in
question ?--But to the point. Ye require
me to deliver up the Lady Isabella-Sirs, I
must ask if ye are authorized to receive
her? The knight nodded. Receive hercontinued Manfred; well! you are authorized to receive her-but, gentle knight,
may I ask if you have full powers? The
knight nodded. It is well, said Manfred :
then hear what I have to offer-Ye see,
gentlemen, before you the most unhappy of
men ! (he began to weep) afford me your
compassion; I am entitled to it; indeed I
am. Know I have lost my only hope, my
joy, the support of my house-Conrad died
yester morning. The knights discovered
signs of surprise.-Yes, sirs, fate has disposed of my son. Isabella is at libertyDo you then restore her? cried the chief
knight, breaking silence. Affobrd your
me
patience : said Manfred. I rejoice to find,
by this testimony of your good will, that
this matter may be adjusted without blood.
It is no interest of mine dictates what little
I have farther to say. Ye behold in me a
man disgusted with the world: the loss or
my son has weaned me from earthly cares.
Power and greatness have no longer any
charms in my eyes. I wished to transmit
the sceptre I had received from my ancestors with honour to my son-but that is
over! Life itself is so indifferent to me
tlot I accepted your defiance with joy : a
good knight cannot go to the grave with
more satisfaction than when falling in his
vocation: whatever is the will of heaven,
I submit; for alas ! sirs, 1 am a man of
many sorrows.-Manfred is no object or
envy-but, no doubt, you are acquainted

CASTLE OF OTRANTO.
with my story. The knight made signs of
ignorance, and seemed curious to have
Manfred proceed. Is it possible, sirs, continued the prince, that my story should be
a secret to you ? have you heard nothing
relating to me and the Princess Hippolita ?
They shook their heads.-No! thus then,
sirs, it is. You think me ambitious : ambition, alas ! is composed of more rugged
materials. If I were ambitious, I should
not for so many years have been a prey to
all the hell of conscientious scruples-But I
weary your patience : I will be brief. Know
then, that 1 have long been troubled in
mind on my union with the Princess Hippolita.-Oh! sirs, if ye were acquainted
with that excellent woman! if ye knew
that I adore her like a mistress, and cherish
her as a friend-but man was not born for
perfect happiness ! she shares my scruples,
and with her consent I have brought this
matter before the church, for we are related within the forbidden degrees. I
expect every hour the definitive sentence
that must separate us for ever-I am sure
you feel for me-I see you do-pardon these
tears! The knights gazed on each other,
wondering where this would end. Man.
fred continued. The death of my son betiding while my soul was under this anxiety, I
thought of nothing but resigning my
dominions, and retiring for ever from the
sight of mankind. My only difficulty was
to fix on a successor, who would be tender
of my people, and to dispose of the Lady
Isabella, who is dear to me as my own
blood. I was willing to restore the line of
Alfonza, even in his most distant kindred :
and though, pardon me, I am satisfied it
was his will that Ricardo's lineage should
take place of his own relations yet where
was I to search for those relations ? I knew
of none but Frederick your lord; he was a
captive to the infidels, or dead; and were
he living, and at home, would he quit the
flourishing state of Vicenza, for the inconsiderable principality of Otranto ? If he
would not, could I bear the thought of seeing a hard, unfeeling viceroy set over my
poor, faithful people?-for, sirs, I love my
people, and, thank heaven, am beloved by
them-But ye will ask whither tends this
long discourse? briefly then thus, sirs.
Heaven in your arrival seems to point out
a remedy for these difficulties and my
misfortunes. The Lady Isabella is at lib.erty; I shall soon be so-I would submit
to any thing for the good of my peoplewere it not the best, the only way to extinguish the feuds between our families, if
I was to take the Lady Isabella to wife ?you start-but though Hippolita's virtues
will ever be dear to me, a prince must not
consider himself; he is born for his people.
A servant at that instant entering the
chamber, apprized Manfred that JerOme
and several of his brethren demanded immediate access to him.
The prince, provoked at this interruption,
and fearing that the friar would discover
to the strangers that Isabella had taken
sanctuary, was going to forbid Jerome's
entrance. But recollecting that he was

25

certainly arrived to notify the princess's
return, Manfred began to excuse himself
to the knights for leaving them for a few
moments, but was prevented by the arrival
of the friars. Manfred angrily repremanded them for their intrusion, and woulil
have forced them back from the chamber :
but Jerome was too much agitated to be
repulsed. He declared aloud the flight of
Isabella, with protestations of his own
innocence. Manfred, distracted at the
news, and not less at its coming to the
knowledge of the strangers, uttered nothing but incoherent sentences; now up.
braiding the friar, now apologizing to the
knights, earnest to know what was become
of Isabella, yet equally afraid of their know..
ing; impatient to pursue her, yet dread,
ing to have them join in the pursuit. He
offbred to despatch messengers in quest of
her, but the chief knight, no longer keeping silence, reproached Manfred in bitter
terms, for his dark and ambiguous dealing,
and demanded the cause of Isabella's first
absence from the castle. Manfred, casting
a stern look at Jerome, implying a command of silence, pretended that, on Conrad's death he had placed her in sanctuary,
until he could determine how to dispose of
her. Jerome, who trembled for his son's
life, did not dare contradict this falsehood, but one of his brethren, not under
the same anxiety, declared, frankly, that
she had fled to their church in the preceding night. The prince in vain endeavoured
to stop this discovery, which overwhelmed
him with shame and confusion. The prin.
cipal stranger, amazed at the contradictions
he heard, and more than half persuaded
that Manfred had secreted the princess,
notwithstanding the concern he expressed
at her flight, rushing to the door, said,
Thou traitor prince! Isabella shall be
found.
Manfred endeavoured to hold
him, but the other knights assisting their
comrade, he broke from the prince, and
hastened into the court, demanding his
attendants.
Manfred finding it vain to
divert him from the pursuit, offered to
accompany him, and summoning hisattendants, and taking Jerome and some of
the friars to guide them, they issued from
the castle; Manfred privately giving orders
to have the knight's company secured,
while to the knight he affected to despatch
a messenger to require their assistance.
The company had no sooner quitted the
castle, than Matilda, who felt herself deeply interested for the young peasant, since
she had seen him condemned to death in.
the hall, and whose thoughts had been
taken up with concerting measures to save
him, was informed by some of the female
attendants, that Manfred had despatched
all his men various ways in pursuit of
Isabella. He had, in his hurry, given this
order in general terms, not meaning to
extend it to the guard he had set upon
Theodore, but forgetting it. The domestics,
officious to obey so peremptory a prince,
and urged by their own curiosity and love
of novelty to join in any precipitate chase,
had, to a man, left the castle. Matilda
GG

26

CASTLE OP OTRANTO.

disengaged herself from her women, stole not bring the gray hairs of my father with
up to the black tower, and unbolting the sorrow to the grave. Say but, adored lady,
door, presented herself to the astonished that I have thy gentle pity.-Stay, said
Theodore. Young man, said she, though Matilda, I will conduct thee to the subter
filial duty and womanly modesty condemn raneous vault by which Isabella escaped ;
the step I am taking, yet holy charity sur- it will lead thee to the church of St. Nicho.
mounting all other ties, justifies this act. las, where thou mayest take sanctuary.-.
Fly, the doors of thy prison are open : my What, said Theodore, was it another, and
father and his domestics are absent, but not thy lovely self, that I assisted to find
they may soon return; be gone in safety, the subterraneous passage ?-It was, said
and may the angels of heaven direct thy Matilda, but ask no more: I tremble to see
course !-Thou art surely one of those thee still abide here: fly to the sanctuary.
angels ! said the enraptured Theodore : -To sanctuary? said Theodore ; no, prinnone but a blessed saint could speak, could cess; sanctuaries are for helpless damsels,
act---could look like thee!-May I not or for criminals. Theodore's soul is free
know the name of my divine protectress ? from guilt, nor will wear the appearance
Methought thou namedst thy father : is it of it. Give me a sword, lady, and thy fapossible! can Manfred's blood feel holy ther shall learn that Theodore scorns an
pity !-Lovelylady, thou answerest not--- ignominious flight.-Rash youth! said Ma.
but how art thou here thyself? why dost tilda, thou wouldst not dare to lift thy prethou neglect thy own safety, and waste a sumptuous arm against the prince of Otranthought on a wretch like Theodore? Let to ?-Not against thy father, indeed, I dare
us fly together : the life thou bestowest not, said Theodore; excuse me, lady, I
shall be dedicated to thy defence. Alas I had forgottenbut could I gaze on
thou mistakest, said Matilda, sighing; I thee, and remember thou art sprung from
am Manfred's daughter, but no danger the tyrant Manfred ?but he is thy fa.
await me.-Amazement, said Theodore; ther, and from this moment my injuries
but last night I blessed myself for yielding are buried in oblivion. A deep and hollow
thee the service thy gracious compassion groan, which seemed to come from above,
so charitably returns me now.-Still thou startled the princess and Theodore. Good
art in an error, said the princess; but this heaven! we are overheard! said the prinis no time for explanation. Fly, virtuous cess. They listened, but perceiving no faryouth, while it is in my power to save thee : ther noise, they both concluded it the effect
should my father return, thou and I both of pent-up vapours ; and the princess, preshould, indeed, have cause to tremble.- ceding Theodore softly, carried him to her
How, said Theodore, thinkest thou, charm- father's armory, where, equipping him with
ing maid, that I will accept of life at the a complete suit, he was conducted by Ma.
hazard of aught calamitous to thee? better tilda to the postern gate. Avoid the town,
I endured a thousand deaths.-I run ne said the princess, and all the western side
risk, said Matilda, but by thy delay. De- of the castle: it is there the search must
part, it cannot be known that I assisted be making by Manfred and the strangers:
thy flight.--Swear by the saints above, said but hie thee to the opposite quarter. YonTheodore, that thou canst not be suspect. der, behind that forest, to the east, is a
ed; else here I vow to await whatever car chain of rock, hollowed into a labyrinth
befall me.-Oh! thou art too generous, said of caverns, that reach to the seacoast.
Matilda, but rest assured that no suspicior There thou mayest lie concealed, till thou
can alight on me.-Give me thy beauteou canst make signs to some vessel to put on
hand, in token that thou dost not deceive shore and take thee off. Go; heaven be
me, said Theodore, and let me bathe if thy guide
sometimes in thy prayers
with the warm tears of gratitude.-Forbear, remember-Matilda! Theodore flung himsaid the princess, this must not be.-Alas I self at her feet, and seizing her lily hand,
said Theodore, I have never known but which with struggles she suffered him to
calamity until this hour-perhaps shal' kiss, he vowed, on the earliest opportunity,
never know other fortune again; suffer the to get himself knighted, and fervently enchaste raptures of holy gratitude; it is my treated her permission to swear himself
soul would print its effusions on thy hand eternally her knight--Ere the princess
-Forbear, and begone, said Matilda, ho could reply, a clap of thunder was suddenwould Isabella approve of seeing thee at ly heard, that shook the battlements.
my feet.-Who is Isabella ? said the young Theodore, regardless of the tempest, would
man, with surprise.-Ah me! I fear, said have urged his suit; but the princess, dis.
the princess, I am serving a deceitful one, mayed, retreated hastily into the castle,
-hast thou forgot thy curiosity this morn. and commanded the youth to be gone, with
ing ?-Thy looks, thy actions, all thy beau. an air that would not be disobeyed. He
teous self seems an emanation of divinity, sighed, and retired, but with eyes fixed on
said Theodore, but thy words are dark and the gate, until Matilda closing it put an
mysterious,----speak, lady; speak to thy end to an interview, in which the hearts of
servant's comprehension.-Thou under both had drunk so deeply of a passion,
standest but too well! said Matilda: but which both now tasted for the first time.
once more I command thee to be gone
Theodore went pensively to the convent,
thy blood which I may preserve, will be or to acquaint his father with his deliverance.
many
head, if I waste the time inavain dis -There he learned the absence of Jerome,
course.-I go, lady, said Theodore, be and the pursuit that was making after the
ca se it is thy will, and because 1 woule' Lady Isabella, with some particulars of

!-and

CASTLE OF OTRANTO.

?

27

those story he now first became acquaint- of the castle
Sure thou art not a mortal,
ed. The generous gallantry of his nature but my guardian angel. On my knees let
prompted him to wish to assist her; but me thankHold, gentle princess, said
the monks could lend him no lights to guess Theodore, nor demean thyself before a
at the route she had taken. He was not poor and friendless young man. If heaven
tempted to wander far in search of her, for has selected me for thy deliverer, it wiL
the idea of Matilda had imprinted itself so accomplish its work, and strengthen my
strongly on his heart that he could not arm in thy cause-but come, lady, we are
bear to absent himself at much distance too near the mouth of the cavern ; et us
from her abode. The tenderness Jerome seek its inmost recesses : I can have no
had expressed for him concurred to con- tranquillity till I have placed thee beyond
firm this reluctance; and he even persuad- the reach of danger.-Alas! what mean
ed himself that filial affection was the chief you, Sir ? said she. Though all your accause of his hovering between the castle tions are noble, though your sentiments
and monastery, until Jerome should return speak the purity of your soul, is it fitting
at night. Theodore at length determined that I should accompany you alone into
to repair to the forest that Matilda had these perplexed retreats ? should we be
pointed out to him. Arriving there, he found together, what would a censorious
sought the gloomiest shades, as best suited world think of my conduct ?-I respect your
to the pleasing melancholy that reigned in virtuous delicacy, said Theodore; nor do
his mind. In this mood he roved insensi- you harbour a suspicion that wounds my
bly to the caves which had formerly served honour. I meant to conduct you into the
as a retreat to hermits, and were now re- most private cavity of these rocks, and
ported round the country to be haunted by then, at the hazard of my life, to guard
evil spirits. He recollected to have heard their entrance against every living thing.
this tradition; and being of a brave and Besides, lady, continued he, drawing a deep
adventurous disposition, he willingly in- sigh, beauteous and all-perfect as your form
dulged his curiosity in exploring the secret is, and though my wishes are not guiltless
recesses of this labyrinth. He had not pe- of aspiring, know, my soul is dedicated to
netrated far, before he thought he heard another; and althougha sudden noise
the steps of some person who seemed to prevented Theodore from proceeding. They
retreat before him. Theodore, though soon distinguished these sounds, Isabella !
firmly grounded in all our holy faith en. what ho! Isabella !-the tremblingprincess
joins to be believed, had no apprehension relapsed into her former agony of fear.
that good men were abandoned, without Theodore endeavoured to encourage her,
cause, to the malice of the powers of dark- but in vain. He assured her he would die
ness. He thought the place more likely to rather than suffer her to return under
be infested by robbers than by those infer- Manfred's power; and begging her to renal agents who are reported to molest and main concealed, he went forth to prevent
bewilder travellers. He had long burned the person in search of her from approachwith impatience to approve his valouring.
drawing his sabre, he marched sedately onAt the mouth of the cavern he found an
wards, still directing his steps, as the im- armed knight, discoursing with a peasant,
perfect rustling sound before him led the who assured him he had seen a lady enter
way. The armour he wore was a like in. the passes of the rock. The knight was
dication to the person who avoided him. preparing to seek her, when Theodore
Theodore, now convinced that he was not placing himself in his way, with his sword
mistaken, redoubled his pace, and evident, drawn, sternly forbade him, at his peril, to
ly gained on the person that fled, whose advance. And who art thou, who darest
haste increasing, Theodore came up just to cross my way? said the knight haughas a woman fell breathless before him. He tily. One who does not dare more
hasted to raise her, but her terror was so he will perform, said Theodore. I than
great that he apprehended she would faint the Lady Isabella, said the knight, seek
and
in his arms. He used every gentle word to understand she has taken refuge among
dispel her alarms, and assured her that these rocks. Impede me not, or thou wilt
far from injuring, he would defend her at repent having provoked my resentment.
the peril of his life. The lady, recovering Th purpose is as odious as thy resentment
her spirits from his cgrteous demeanour, is contemptible, said Theodore. Return
and gazing on her protector, said, Sure I whence thou camest, or we shall soon know
have heard that voice before !-Not to my whose resentment is most terrible.
knowledge, replied Theodore, unless, as I stranger, who was the principal knight The
that
conjecture, thou art the Lady Isabella.had arrived from the Marquis
Merciful heaven ! cried she, thou art not had gallopped from Manfred, of Vicenza,
as he was
sent in quest of me, art thou? and saying busied in getting information of the prin.
those words, she threw herself at his feet cess, and giving various orders to prevent
and besought him not to deliver her up to her falling into the power of the three
Manfred. To Manfred ! cried Theodore- knights. Their chief had suspected Manno, lady; I have once already delivered fred of being privy to the princess's abthee from his tyranny, and it shall fare hard sconding; and this insult from a man, who,
with me now, but I will place thee out of he concluded, was stationed by that prince
the reach of his daring.-Is it possible said to secrete her, confirming his suspicions,
she, that thou shouldst be the generous un. he made no reply, but discharging a blot
known whom I met last night in the vault with his sabre at Theodore, would soo
G QO
12

28

CASTLE OF OTRANTO.

have removed all obstruction, if Theodore,
who took him for one of Manfred's cap
tains, and who had no sooner given the
provocation than prepared to support it,
had not received the stroke on his shield.
The valour that had so long been smothering in his breast broke forth at once; he
rushed impetuously on the knight, whose
pride and wrath were not less powerful incentives to hardy deeds. The combat was
furious, but not long: Theodore wounded
the knight in three seireral places, and at
last disarmed him, as he fainted by the loss
of blood. The peasant, who had fled on
the first onset, had given the alarm to some
of Manfred's domestics, who, by his orders,
were dispersed through the forest, in pursuit of Isabella. They came up as the
knight fell, whom they soon discovered to
be the noble stranger. Theodore, notwithstanding his hatred to Manfred, could not
behold the victory he had gained, without
emotions of pity and generosity : but he
was more touched when he learned the
quality of his adversary, and was informed
that he was no retainer, but an enemy of
Manfred. He assisted the servants of the
latter in disarming the knight, and in endeavouring to stanch the blood that flowed
from his wounds. The knight, recovering
his speech, said, in a faint and faltering
voice, Generous foe, we have both been in
error : I took thee for an instrument of
the tyrant; I perceive thou hast made the
'ike mistake--it is too late for excuses-I
faint-If Isabella is at hand, call her-I
have important secrets to-He is dying !
said one of the attendants; has nobody a
crucifix about them ? Andrea, do thou
pray over him.-Fetch some water, said
Theodore, and pour it down his throat,
while 1 hasten to the princess. Saying
this, he flew to Isabella, and, in a few
words, told her, modestly, that he had been
so unfortunate, by mistake, as to wound a
gentleman from her father's court, who
wished, ere he died, to impart something of
consequence to her.-The princess, who
had been transported at hearing the voice
of Theodore, as he called to her to come
forth, was astonished at what she heard,
Suffering herself to be conducted by Theodore, the new proof of whose valour recalled her dispersed spirits, she came where
the bleeding knight lay speechless on the
ground; but her fears returned when she
beheld the domestics of Manfred.
She
would again have fled, if Theodore had not
made her observe that they were unarmed,
and had not threatened them with instant
death, if they should dare to seize theprin.cess. The stranger opening his eyes, and
beholding a woman, said-Art thou-pray
tell me truly-art thou Isabella of Vicenza ?-I am, said she; good heaven restore
thee !-then thou-then thou-said the
knight, struggling for utterance-seestthy father-give me oneOh ! amazement ! horror ! what do I hear ! what do I
see ! cried Isabella My father ! you my
father! how came you here, Sir, for heaven's sake speak !-oh ! run for help, or he
will expire I It is most true, said the

wounded knight, exerting all his fbrce; I
am Frederick thy father-yes, I came to
deliver thee-It will not be-give me a
parting kiss, and take-Sir, said Theodore,
do not exhaust yourself: suffer us to con.
vey you to the castle.-To the castle! said
Isabella; is there no help nearer than the
castle? would you expose my father to the
tyrant ? if he goes thither, I dare not accompany him-and yet can I leave him!My child, said Frederick, it matters not for
me whither I am carried : a few minutes
will place me beyond danger; but while I
have eyes to dote on thee, forsake me not,
dear Isabella! This brave knight, I know
not who he is, will protect thy innocence.
-Sir, you will not abandon my child, will
you? Theodore, shedding tears over his
victim, and vowing to guard the princess
at the expense of his life, persuaded Fre.
derick to suffer himself to be conducted to
the castle. They placed him on a horse
belonging to one of the domestics, after
binding up his wounds as well as they were
able.-Theodore marched by his side, and
the afflicted Isabella, who could not bear
to quit him, followed mournfully behind.

CHAP. IV.
THE sorrowful troop no sooner arrived at
the castle than they were met by Hippolita and Matilda, whom Isabella had sent
one of the domestics before to advertise of
their approach. The ladies, causing Frederick to be conveyed into the nearest
chamber, retired, while the surgeons ex.
amined his wounds.-Matilda blushed at
seeing Theodore and Isabella together ;
but endeavoured to conceal it by embracing
the latter, and condoling with her on her
father's mischance. The surgeons soon
came to acquaint Hippolita that none of
the Marquis's wounds were dangerous;
and that he was desirous of seeing his
daughter and the princesses. Theodore,
under pretence of expressing his joy at being freed from his apprehensions of the
combat being fatal to Frederick, could not
resist the impulse of following Matilda.
Her eyes were so often cast down, on meet.ing his, that Isabella, who regarded Theodore as attentively as he gazed on Matilda,
soon divined who the object was that he
had told her, in the cave, engaged his affec.tions. While this mute scene passed, Hip.
polita demanded of Frederick the cause of
his having taken that mysterious course for
reclaiming his daughter; and threw in va.
rious apologies to excuse her lord for the
match contracted between their children.
Frederick, however incensed against Man.fred, was not insensible to the courtesy and
benevolence of Hippolita; but he was still
more struck with the lovely form of Ma.
tilda. Wishing to detain them by his bed.
side, he informed Hippolita of his story.
He told her, that while prisoner to the in.
fidels, he had dreamed that his daughter,
of whom he had learned no news since his
captivity, was detained in a castle, where

CASTLE OF OTRANTO,
she was in danger of the most dreadful misfortunes; and that if he obtained his liberty, and repaired to a wood near Joppa,
he would learn more. Alarmed at this
dream, and incapable of obeying the direction given by it, his chains became more
grievous than ever. But while his thoughts
were occupied on the means of obtaining
his liberty, he received the agreeable news
that the confederate princes, who were warring in Palestine, had paid his ransom. He
instantly set out for the wood that had been
marked in his dream. For three days he
and his attendants had wandered in the
forest, without seeing a human form; but,
on the evening of the third, they came to a
cell, in which they found a venerable hermit in the agonies of death.
Applying
rich cordials, they brought the saintlike
man to his speech. My sons, says he, I
am bounden to your charity; but it is in
vain-I am going to my eternal rest-yet I
die with the satisfaction of performing the
will of heaven. When first I repaired to
this solitude, after seeing my country become a prey to unbelievers-it is, alas !
above fifty years since I was witness to
this dreadful scene !-St.Nicholas appeared
to me, and revealed a secret, which he bade
me never disclose to mortal man, but on
my deathbed. This is that tremendous
hour, and ye are, no doubt, the chosen
warriors to whom I was ordered to reveal
my trust. As soon as ye have done the last
offices to this wretched corse, dig under the
seventh tree on the left hand of this poor
cave, and your pains will
Oh ! good
Heaven receive my soul! With those
words, the devout man breathed his last.
By break of day, continued Frederick,
when we had committed the holy relics to
earth, we dug according to direction ; but,
what was our astonishment, when, about
the depth of six feet, we discovered an en.
ormous sabre-the very weapon yonder in
the court. On the blade, which was then
partly out of the scabbard, though since
closed by our efforts in removing it, were
written the following lines-no; excuse
me, madam, added the Marquis, turning
to Hippolita, if I forbear to repeat them :
I respect your sex and rank, and would
not be guilty of offending your ear with
sounds injurious to aught that is dear to
you. He paused. Hippolita trembled.
She did not doubt but Frederick was destined by Heaven to accomplish the fate
that seemed to threaten her house. Looking with anxious fondness at Matilda, a
silent tear stole down her cheek; but recollecting herself, she said, Proceed, my
lord; Heaven does nothing in vain : mortals must receive its divine behests with
lowliness and submission. It is our part
to deprecate its wrath, or bow to its decrees. Repeat the sentence, my lord, we
listen resigned. Frederick was grieved
that he had proceeded so far. The dignity
and patient firmness of Hippolita penetrated him with respect, and the tender silent affection with which the princess and
her daughter regarded each other, melted
him almost to tears. Yet apprehensive

29

that his forbearance to obey would be more
alarming, he repeated, in a faultering and
low voice, the following lines:
Where'er a casque to suit this sword is found,
Vith perils is thy daughter compass'd round
Alfonso's blood alone can save the maid
And quiet a long restless prince's shade.

What is there in these lines, said Theodore,
impatiently that affects these princesses?
why were they to be shocked by a mysteri.
ous delicacy, that has so little foundation?
-your words are rude, young man, said the
Marquis; and though fortune has favoured
you once-My honoured lord, said Isabella, who resented Theodore's warmth, which
she perceived was dictated by his sentiments for Matilda, discompose not yourself
for the glosing of a peasant's son: he forgets the reverence he owes you; but he is
not accustomedHippolita, concerned
at the heat that had arisen, checked Theodore for his boldness, but with an air acknowledging his zeal; and, changing the
conversation, demanded of Frederick where
he had left her lord? As the Marquis was
going to reply, they heard a noise without,
and rising to inquire the cause, Manfred,
Jerome, and part of the troop, who had
met an imperfect rumour of what had happened, entered the chamber. Manfred advanced hastily towards Frederick's bed, to
condole with him on his misfortune, and
to learn the circumstances of the combat,
when, starting in an agony of terror and
amazement,, he cried, Ha ! what art thou ?
Thou dreadful spectre ! is my hour come?
-My dearest, gracious lord, cried Hippolita, clasping him in her arms, what is it
you see ? why do you fix your eye-balls
thus ?-What! cried Manfred, breathless,
dost thou see nothing, Hippolita ? is this
ghastly phantom sent to me alone-to me,
who did notFor mercy's sweetest
self, my lord, said Hippolita, resume your
soul, command your reason. There is none
here but us, your friends.-What! is not
that Alfonso? cried Manfred: dost thou
not see him ? can it be my brain's delirium
my lord, said Hippolita; this
is Theodore, the youth who has been so
unfortunate.-Theodore! said Manfred,
mournfully, and striking his foreheadTheodore, or a phantom, he has unhinged
the soul of Manfred; but how comes he
here? and how comes he in armour ?-I
believe he went in search of Isabella, said
Hippolita. Of Isabella ! said Manfred, relapsing into rage-yes, yes, that is not
doubtful; but how did he escape from
durance in which I left him ? was it Isabella, or this hypocritical old friar that'procured his enlargement ?-And would a
parent be criminal, my lord, said Theodore,
if he meditated the deliverance of his
child ?-Jerome, amazed to hear himself
in a manner accused by his son, and without foundation, knew not what to think.
He could not comprehend how Theodore
had escaped; how he came to be armed,
and to encounteir Frederick. Still he would
not venture' to ask any questions that
might tend to inflame Manfred's wrath

?-This!

30

CASTLE OF FOTRANTO

against his son. Jerome's silence convinced
Manfred that he had contrived Theodore's
release.-And is it thus, thou ungrateful
old man, said the prince, addressing himself to the friar, that thou repayest mine
and Hippolita's bounties ? And not content with traversing my heart's nearest
wishes, thou armest thy bastard, and
bringest him into my own castle to insult
me !-Mylord, said Theodore, you wrong
my father: nor he nor I are capable of
harbouring a thought against your peace.
Is it insolence thus to surrender myself to
your highness's pleasure, added he, laying
his sword respectfully at Manfred's feet.
Behold my bosom; strike, my lord, if you
suspect that a disloyal thought is lodged
there. There is not a sentiment engraven
on my heart that does not venerate you
and yours. The grace and fervour with
which Theodore uttered these words interested every person present in his favour.
-Even Manfred was touched-yet still
possessed with his resemblance to Alfonso,
his admiration was dashed with secret horror. Rise, said he ; thy life is not my present purpose. But tell me thy history, and
how thou camest connected with this old
traitor here.-My lord, said Jerome eagerly
Peace, impostor, said Manfred ;
I will not have him prompted.-My lord,
said Theodore, I want no assistance. My
story is very brief. 1 was carried, at five
years of age, to Algiers, with my mother,
who had been taken by corsairs from the
coast of Sicily. She died of grief in less
than a twelvemonth. [The tears gushed
from Jerome's eyes, on whose countenance
a thousand anxious passions stood expressed.] Before she died, continual Theodore,
she bound a writing about my armunder my
garments, which told me I was the son of
the Count Falconara. It is most true, said
Jerome; I am that wretched father.Again I enjoin thee silence, said Manfred ;
proceed. I remained in slavery, said Theodore, untilwithin these two years, when, attending on my master in his cruises, I was
delivered by a Christian vessel, which overpowered the pirate; and discovering myself
to the captain, he generously put me on
shore in Sicilybut alas I instead of
finding a father, I learned that his estate,
which was situated on the coast, had, during his absence, been laid waste by the rover who had carried my mother and me
into Captivity. That his castle had been
burned to the ground, and that my father
on his return had sold what remained, and
was retired into religion in the kingdom of
Naples, but where no man could inform
me. Destitute and friendless, hopeless
almost of attaining the transport of a parent's embrace, I took the first opportunity of setting sail for Naples, from whence,
within these six days, I wandered into this
province, still supporting myself by the labour of my hands; nor until yestermorn
did I believe that Heaven had reserved any
lot for me but peace of mind and contented
poverty. This, my lord, is Theodore's story. I am blessed beyond my hope in finding a father; I am unfortunate beyond lay

desert in having incurred your highnesses
displeasure. He ceased. A murmur of
approbation gently arose from the audience. This is not all, said Frederick : I
am bound in honour to add what he sup.
presses. Though he is modest, I must be
generous-he is one of the bravest youths
on Christian ground. He is warm too ;
and from the short knowledge I have of
him, I will pledge myself for his veracity
if what he reports of himself were not true,
he would not utter it-and for me, youth,
I honour a frankness which becomes thy
birth. But now, and thou didst offend
me; yet the noble blood which flows in thy
veins, may be allowed to boil out, when it
has so recently traced itself to its source.
Come, my lord, [turning to Vanfred) if I
can pardon him, surely you may. It is not
the youth's fault, if you took him for a
spectre. This bitter taunt galled the soul
of Manfred. If beings from another world,
replied he haughtily, have power to impress my mind with awe, it is more than
living man can do; nor could a stripling's
arm,-Mylord, interrupted Hippolita, your
guest has occasion for repose : shall we not
leave him to his rest ? Saying this, and taking Manfred by the hand, she took leave of
Frederick, and led the company forth. The
prince, not sorry to quit a conversation,
which recalled to mind the discovery he
had made of his most secret sensations, suffered himself to be conducted to his own
apartment, after permitting Theodore,
though under engagement to return to the
castle on the morrow (a condition the
young man gladly accepted) to retire with
his father to the convent. Matilda and
Isabella were too much occupied with their
own reflections, and too little content with
each other, to wish for farther converse
that night. They separated each to her
chamber, with more expressions of ceremony and fewer of affection than had
passed between them since their childhood.
If they parted with small cordiality,
they did but meet with greater impatience
as soon as the sun was risen. Their minds
were in a situation that excluded sleep,
and each recollected a thousand questions
which she had wished to put to the other
overnight. Matilda reflected that Isabella
had been twice delivered by Theodore in
very critical situations, which she could
not believe accidental. His eyes, it was
true, had been fixed on her in Frederick's
chamber; but that might have been to disguise his passion for Isabella from the
fathers of both. It were better to clear
this up- She wished to know the truth,
lest she should wrong her friend by enter.
taining a passion for Isabella's lover. Thus
jealousy prompted, and at the same time
borrowed an excuse from friendship to
justify its curiosity.
Isabella, not less restless, had better foun.
dation for her suspicions. Both Theodore's
tongue and eyes had told her his heart was
engaged, it was true-yet perhaps Matilda
might not correspond to his passion-she
had ever appeared insensible to love : all
her thoughts were set on heaven-Why

CASTLE

her?

r' OTRANTO.

81

did I dissuade
said Isabella to her. tny dearest Isabella does not doubt her
self : I am punished for my generosity-but iMatilda's friendship : I never beheld that
when did they meet ? where--it cannot be : youth until yesterday; he is almost a
I have deceived myself-perhaps last night stranger to me : but as the surgeons have
was the first time they ever beheld each pronounced your father out of danger, you
other--it must be some other object that ought not to harbour uncharitable resent.
has prepossessed his affections-if it is, I ment against one, who I am persuaded did
am not so unhappy as I thought, if it is not know the Marquis was related to you.
not my friend Matilda-how ! can I stoop -You plead his cause very pathetically,
to wish for the affection of a man who rude- said Isabella, considering he is so much a
ly and unnecessarily acquainted me with stranger to you! I am mistaken, or he rehis indifference? and that at the very turns your charity.-What mean you!
moment in which common courtesy de- said Matilda. Nothing; said Isabella, re.
manded at least expressions of civility. penting that she had given Matilda a hint
I will go to my dear Matilda, who will con. of Theodore's inclination for her. Then
firm me in this becoming pride--man is changing the discourse, she asked Matilda
false-I will advise with her on taking the what occasioned Manfred to take Theodore
veil: she will rejoice to find me in this dis- for a spectre? Bless me, said Matilda, did
position; and I will acquaint her that I not you observe his extreme resemblance
no longer oppose her inclination for the to the portrait of Alfonso in the gallery? I
cloister. In this frame of mind, and de. took notice of it to Bianca even before 1
termined to open her heart entirely to Ma. saw him in armour; but with the helmet
tilda, she went to that princess's chamber, on, he is the very image of that picture. I
whom she found already dressed, and lean. do not much observe pictures, said Isabeling pensively on her arm. This attitude, la : much less have I examined this young
so correspondent to what she felt herself, man so attentively as you seem to have
revived Isabella's suspicions, and destroyed done--ah ! Matilda, your heart is in danthe confidence she had purposed to place ger---but let me warn you as a friend-he
in her friend. They blushed at meeting, has owned to me that he is in love; it canand were too much novices to disguise their not be with you, for yesterday was the first
sensations with address. After some un- time you ever met-was it not ?-Cer.
meaning questions and replies, Matilda de. tainly, replied Matilda; but why does my
manded of Isabella the cause of her flight ? dearest Isabella conclude from any thing I
The latter, who had almost forgotten Man- have said, that-[she paused-then contifred's passion, so entirely was she occupied nuing :]-he saw you first, and I am far
by her own, concluded that Matilda refer- from having the vanity to think that my
red to her last escape from the convent, little portion of charms could engage a heart
which had occasioned the events of the pre. devoted to you-may you be happy, Isa.
ceding evening, replied, Martelli brought bella, whatever is the fateof Matilda !-My
word to the convent that your mother was lovely friend, said Isabella, whose heart
dead.-Oh ! said Matilda, interrupting her, was too honest to resist a kind expression,
Bianca has explained that mistake to me: it is you that Theodore admires; I saw it;
on seeing me faint, she cried out, The I am persuaded of it; nor shall a thought
princess is dead I and Martelli, who had of my own happiness suffer me to interfere
come for the usual dole to the castle-And with yours. This frankness drew tears
what made you faint? said Isabella, indif- from the gentle Matilda; and jealousy,
ferent to the rest.-Matilda blushed, and that for a moment had raised a coolness
stammered-My father-he was sitting in between these amiable maidens, soon gave
judgment on a criminal.-What criminal? way to the natural sincerity and candour
said Isabella eagerly. A young man, of their souls. Each confessed to the other
said Matilda; I believe-I think it was the impression that Theodore had made
that young man that-What, Theodore? on her; and this confidence was followed
said Isabella. Yes; answered she; I ne. by a struggle of generosity, each insisting
ver saw him before; I do not know how he on yielding her claim to her friend. At
had offended my father-but as he has length the dignity of Isabella's virtue, re.
been of service to you, I am glad my lord minding her of the preference which Theo.
haspardonedhim.-Servedme! replied Isa- dore had almost declared for her rival,
bella, do you term it serving me, to wound made her determine to conquer her passion,
my father, and almost occasion his death ? and cede the beloved object to her friend.
Though it is but since yesterday that 1 am
During this contest of amity, Hippolita
blessed with knowing a parent, I hope Ma. entered her daughter's chamber. Madam,
tilda does not think I am such a stran. said she to Isabella, you have so much
ger to filial tenderness as not to resent the tenderness for Matilda, and interest yourboldness of that audacious youth, and that self so kindly in whatever affects our
it is impossible for me ever to feel any af. wretched house, that I can have no secrets
fection for one who dared to lift his arm with my child, which are not proper for
against the author of my being. No, Ma. you to hear. The princesses were all at.tilda, my heart abhors him; and if you tention and anxiety. Know then, Ma.
still retain the friendship for me that you dam, continued Hippolita, and you my
have vowcd from your infancy, you will dearest Matilda, that being convinced, by
detest a man who has been on the point of all the events of these two last ominous
making me miserable for ever. Matilda days, that Heaven purposes the sceptre of
held down her head, and replied, I hope Otranto should pass from Manfred's hands

382

CASTLE OF OTRANTO.

Into those of the Marquis Frederick, I
have been, perhaps, inspired with the
thought of averting our total destruction
by the union of our rival houses. With
this view 1 have been proposing to Manfred, my lord, to tender this dear, dear
child to Frederick your father.-Me to
Lord Frederick! cried Matilda-good heavens ! my gracious mother-and have you
named it to my father? I have: said
Hippolita : he listened benignly to my proposal, and is gone to break it to the Marquis.-Ah ! wretched princess! cried Isabella; what hast thou done! what ruin
has thy inadvertent goodness been preparing for thyself, for me, and for Matilda!Ruin from me to you and to my child!
said Hippolita, what can this mean? Alas !
said Isabella, the purity of your own heart
prevents your seeing the depravity of others.
Manfred, your lord, that impious man ;
Hold, said Hippolita ;-you must not, in
my presence, young lady, mention Manfred
with disrespect : he is my lord and husband, and-Will not long be so, said Isabella, if his wicked purposes can be carried
into execution.-This language amazes me !
said Hippolita. Your feeling, Isabella, is
warm : but until this hour I never knew
it betray you into intemperance. What
deed of Manfred authorises you to treat
him as a murderer, an assassin? Thou
virtuous, and too credulous princess! replied Isabella; it is not thy life he aims at
-it is to separate himself from thee ! to
divorce thee! to-To divorce me !-To
divorce my mother ! cried Hippolita and
Matilda at once. Yes, said Isabella; and
'o complete his crime he medit tesI
speak it! What can surpass what
thou hast already uttered? said Matilda.
Hippolita was silent. Grief choked her
speech; and the recollection of Manfred's
late ambiguous discourses confirmed what
she heard. Excellent, dear lady ! Madam! Mother! cried Isabella, flinging
herself at Hippolita's feet in a transport
of passion; trust me, believe me, I will
die a thousand deaths sooner than con..
sen to injure you, than yield to so odious-oh !-This is too much! cried Hippolita: What crimes does one crime suggest?
Rise, dear Isabella; I do not doubt your
virtue. Oh! Matilda, this stroke is too
heavy for thee! weep not, my child; and
not a murmur, I charge thee. Remember he is thy father still!-But you are my
mother too, said Matilda, fervently; and
you are virtuous, you are guiltless !-Oh !
must not I, must not I complain !-You
must not, said Hippolita; come, all will
yet be well. Manfred, in the agony for
the loss of thy brother, knew not what he
said: perhaps Isabella misunderstood him :
his heart is good-and, my child, thou
knowest not all! There is a destiny hangs
over us; the hand of providence is stretched out--Oh! could 1 but save thee from
the wreck !-Yes,continued she, in a firmer
tone; perhaps the sacrifice of myself may
atone for all-I will go and offer myself to
this divorce-it boots not what becomes of
me. I will withdraw into the neighbouring

-annot

monastery, and waste the remainder of
fe in prayers and tears for my child and
-the prince !-Thou art as much too good
or this world, said Isabella, as Manfred is
execrable-but think not, lady, that thy
weakness shall determine forme. I swear,
hear me all ye angels--Stop, I adjure
cried Hippolita: remember thou dost
not depend on thyself; thou hast a father,
-My father is too pious, too noble, interrupted Isabella, to command an impious
deed. But should he command it ; can a
father enjoin a cursed act ? I was contracted to the son, can I wed the father ?No, madam, no; force should not drag me
to Manfred's hated bed. I loathe him, I
abhor him : divine and human laws forbid
-and my friend, my dearest' Matilda
would I wound her tender soul by injuring
her adored mother ? my own mother-I
never have known another.-Oh! she is
the mother of both, cried Matilda: Can
we, can we, Isabella, adore he too much a
-My lovely children, said the touched
Hippolita, your tenderness overpowers me
-but I must not give way to it. It is not
ours to make election for ourselves :
heaven, our fathers, and our husbands
must decide for us. Have patience until
you hear what Manfred and Frederick
have determined. If the Marquis accepts
Matilda's hand, I know she will readily
obey. Heaven may interpose and prevent
the rest.-What means my child? continued she, seeing Matilda fall at her feet
with a flood of speechless tears- But no;
answer me not, my daughter : I must not
hear a word against the pleasure of thy
father.-Oh ! doubt not my obedience, my
dreadful obedience to him and to you! said
Matilda. But can I, most respected of
women, can I experience all this tenderness, this world of goodness, and conceal
a thought from the best of mothers ?What art thou going to utter? said Isabella, trembling. Recollect thyself, Matilda.
-No, Isabella, said the princess, I should
not deserve this incomparable parent, if the
inmost recesses of my soul harboured a
thought without her permission-nay, I
have offended her; I have suffered a pas.
sion to enter my heart without her avowal
-but here I disclaim it; here I avow to
heaven and her-My child ! my child ! said
Hippolita, what words are these! what
new calamities has fate in store for us !
Thou a passion! Thou, in this hour of
destruction. Oh! I see all my guilt ! said
Matilda.-I abhor myself, if I cost my
mother a pang. She is tne dearest thing I
have on earth-oh ! I will never, never
behold him more !-Isabella ! said Hippolita, thou art conscious to this unhappy
secret; whatever it is, speak !-What!
cried Matilda, have I so forfeited my
mother's love that she will not permit me
even to speak my own guilt ? oh ! wretched,
wretched Matilda !-Thou art too cruel,
said Isabella to Hippolita: canst thou behold this anguish of a virtuous mind, and
not commiserate it ?-Not pity my child !
said Hippolita, catching Matilda in her
arms-Oh! I know she is good she is all

thee,

CASTLE OF OTRANTO.
virtue, all tenderness and duty. I do for.
give thee, my excellent, my only hope!
The princesses then revealed to Hippolita
their mutual inclination for Theodore, and
the purpose of Isabella to resign him to
Matilda.-Hippolita blamed their imprudence, and showed them the improbability
that either father would consent to bestow
his heiress on so poor a man, though nobly
born. Some comfort it gave her to find
their passion of so recent a date, and that
Theodore had had but little cause to suspect
it in either. She strictly enjoined them to
avoid all correspondence with him. This
Matilda fervently promised; but Isabella,
who flattered herself that she meant no
more than to promote his union with her
friend, could not determine to avoid him :
and made no reply. I will go to the convent, said Hippolita, and order new masses
to be said for a deliverance from these
calamities.-Oh I my mother, said Matilda,
you mean to quit us: you mean to take
sanctuary, and to give my father an opportunity of pursuing his fatal intention.
Alas ! on my knees I suppllicate you to
forbearwill you leave me a prey to
Frederick ? I will follow you to the convent.--Be at peace, my child, said Hippo.
lita; I will return instantly.-I will never
abandon thee, until I know it is the will of
heaven, and for thy benefit.-;-Do not deceive me, said Matilda. I will not marry
Frederick until thou commandest it.-Alas i! what will become of me ?-Why
that exclamation ? said Hippolita.-I have
promised thee to return.-Ah ! my mother,
replied Matilda, stay and save me from
myself. A frown from thee can do more
than all my father's severity.--I have given
away my heart, and you alone can make
me recal it.-No more, said Hippolita;
thou must not relapse, Matilda.-I can
quit Theodore, said she, but must I wed
another? let me attend thee to the altar,
and shut myself from the world for ever.Thy fate depends on thy father, said Hippolita : I have ill bestowed my tenderness,
if it has tnkght thee to revere aught beyond
him. Adieu ! my child: I go to pray for
thee.
Hippolita's real purpose was to demand
of Jerome, whether in conscience she
might not consent to the divorce. She had
oft urged Manfred to resign the principality,
which the delicacy of her conscience rendered an hourly burden to her. These
scruples concurred to make the separation
from her husband appear less dreadful to
her than it would have seemed in any other
situation,
Jerome, at quitting the castle over night,
had questioned Theodore severely why he
had accused him to Manfred of being privy
to his escape. Theodore owned it had been
with design to prevent Manfred's suspicion
from alighting on Matilda; and added, the
holiness of Jerome's life and character secured him from the tyrant's wrath. Jerome
was heartily grieved to discover his son's
inclination for that princess; and leaving
him to his rest, promised in the morning
to acquaint him with imoortant reasons

I for conquering his passion.

33

Theodore,
like Isabella, was too recently acquainted
with parental authority to submit to its
decisions against the impulse of his heart
He had little curiosity to learn the friar's
reasons, and less disposition to obey them,
The lovely Matilda had made stronger
impressions on him than filial affection.
All night he pleased himself with visions
of love; and it was not till late after the
morning office, that he recollected the
friar's commands to attend him to Alfonso's
tomb.
Young man, said Jerome, when he saw
him, this tardiness does not please me.
Have a father's commands already so little
weight. Theodore made awkward excuses,
and attributed his delay to having overslept
himself. And on whom were thy dreams
employed ? said the friar, sternly. His
son blushed.-Come, come, resumed the
friar, inconsiderate youth, this must not
be; eradicate this guilty passion from thy
breast.-Guilty passion ! cried Theodore,
Can guilt dwell with innocent beauty and
virtuous modesty ? It is sinful replied the
friar, to cherish those whom heaven has
doomed to destruction. A tyrant's race
must be swept from the earth to the third
and fourth generation.-Will heaven visit
the innocent for the crimes of the guilty ?
said Theodore. The fair Matilda has virtues enough-To undo thee, interrupted
Jerome. Hast thou so soon forgotten that
twice the savage Manfred has pronounced
thy sentence ?-Nor have I forgotten, sir,
said Theodore, that the charity of his
daughter delivered me from his power. I
can forget injuries, but never benefits.The injuries thou hast received from Manfred's race, said the friar, are beyond what
thou canst conceive. Reply not, but view
this holy image! Beneath this marble
monument rest the ashes of the good
Alfonso; a prince adorned with every virtue ! the father of his people ! the delight
of mankind ! kneel, headstrong boy, and
list, while a father unfolds a tale of horror,
that will expel every sentiment from thy
soul but sensations of sacred vengeance.Alfonso! much injured prince! let thy un.
satisfied shade sit awful on the troubled
air, while these trembling lips-Ha! who
comes there ?-The most wretched of women! said Hippolita, entering the choir.
Good father, art thou at leisure ?- but
why this kneeling youth ? what means the
horror imprinted on each countenance ?
why at this venerable tomb-alas! hast
thou seen aught ?-We were pouring forth
our orisons to heaven, replied the friar,
with some confusion, to put an end to the
woes of this deplorable province. Join
with us, lady ! thy spotless soul may ob.
tain an exemption from the judgments
which the portents of these days but too
speakingly denounce against thy house.-I
pray fervently to heaven to divert them,
said the pious princess. Thou knowest it
has been the occupation of my life to wrest
a blessing for by lord and my harmless
children-One, alas! is taken from me!
would heaven but hear me for my poor

34

CASTLE OF OTRANTO.

Matilda! Father ! intercede for her !Every heart will bless her, cried Theodore,
with rapture. Be dumb, rash youth ! said
Jerome. And thou, fond princess, contend not with the powers above ! the Lord
giveth and the Lord taketh away : bless
his holy name, and submit to his decrees.I do most devoutly, said Hippolita: but
will he not spare my only comfort ? must
Matilda perish too ? Ah! father, I came-but dismiss thy son. No ear but thine
must hear what I have to utter.-May
heaven grant thy every wish, most exceltent princess! said Theodore, retiring.
Jerome frowned.
Hippolita then acquainted the friar with
the proposal she had suggested to Manfred,
his approbation of it, and the tender of Matilda that he was gone to make to Frederick.
Jerome could not conceal his dislike of the
motion, which he covered under pretence
of the improbability that Frederick, the
nearest blood to Alfonso, and who was
come to claim his succession, would yield
to an alliance with the usurper of his right.
But nothing could equal the perplexity of
the friar, when Hippolita confessed her
readiness not to oppose the separation, and
demanded his opinion on the legality of
her acquiescence. The friar catched eager.
ly at her request of his advice, and, without
explaining his aversion to the proposed
marriage of Manfred and Isabella, he
painted to Hippolita, in the most alarming
colours, the sinfulness of her consent, denounced judgments against her if she com.
plied, and enjoined her in the severest terms
to treat any such proposition with every
mark of indignation and refusal.
Manfred, in the meantime, had broken
his purpose to Frederick, and proposed the
double marriage. That weak prince, who
had been struck with the charms of Matilda, listened but too eagerly to the offer.
He forgot his enmity to Manfred, whom
he saw but little hope of dispossessing by
force; and flattering himself that no issue
might succeed from the union of his
daughter with the tyrant, he looked upon
his own succession to the principality as
facilitated by wedding Matilda. He made
faint opposition to the proposal; afifecting,
for form only, not to acquiesce unless Hippolita should consent to the divorce.Manfred took that upon himself. Transported with his success, and impatient to
see himself in a situation to expect sons,
he hastened to his wife's apartment, determined to extort her compliance.
He
learned with indignation that she was absent at the convent. His guilt suggested
to him that she had probably been informed by Isabella of his purpose. He doubted
whether her retirement to the convent did
not import an intention of remaining
there, until she could raise obstacles to
their divorce; and the suspicions he had
already entertained of Jerome, made him
apprehend that the friar would not only
traverse his views, buf mnight have inspired Hippolita with the resolution of taking
sanctuary. Impatient to unravel this clue,
to defeat its success. Manfred hasten-

and

ed to the convent, and arrived there as the
friar was earnestly exhorting the princess
never to yield to the divorce.
Madam, said Manfred, what business
drew you hither? why did you not await
my return from the Marquis ?-I came to
implore a blessing on your councils, replied
Hippolita. My councils do not need a
friar's intervention, said Manfred-and
of all men living is that hoary traitor the
only one whom you delight to confer with ?
-Profane prince! said Jerome; is it at
the altar that thou choosest to insult the
servants of the altar ?-but, Manfred, thy
impious schemes are known. Heaven and
this virtuous lady know them-nay, frown
not, prince. The church despises thy menaces.-Her thunders will be heard above
thy wrath. Dare to proceed in thy cursed
purpose of a divorce, until her sentence be
known, and here I lance her anathema at
thy head.-Audacious rebel! said Man.
fred, endeavouring to conceal the awe with
which the friar's words inspired him; dost
thou presume to threaten thy lawful
prince ?-Thou art no lawful prince, said
Jerome; thou art no prince-go, discuss
thy claim with Frederick; and when that
is done--It is done, replied Manfred:
Frederick accepts Matilda's hand, and is
content to wave his claim, unless I have
no male issue--as he spoke those words,
three drops of blood fell from the nose of
Alfonso's statue. Manfred turned pale,
and the princess sunk on her knees. Behold ! said the friar; mark this miraculous
indication that the blood of Alfonso will
never mix with that of Manfred!-My gracious lord, said Hippolita, let us submit
ourselves to Heaven.-Think not thy ever
obedient wife rebels against thy authority.
I have no will but that of my lord and
the church. To that revered tribunal
let us appeal. It does not depend on us to
burst the bonds that unite us. If the
church shall approve the dissolution of our
marriage, be it so-I have but few years,
and those of sorrow, to pass. Where can
they be worn away so well as at the foot of
this altar, in prayers for thine and Matil.
da's safety ?-But thou shalt not remair
here until then, said Manfred. Repair
with me to the castle, and there I will ad.
vise on the proper measures for a divorce;
but this meddling friar comes not thither;
my hospitable roof shall never more harbour a traitor-and for thy reverence's offspring, continued he, I banish him from
my dominions. He, I ween, is no sacred
personage, nor under the protection of the
church. Whoever weds Isabella, it shall
not be Father Falconara's start-up son.They start up, said the friar, who are suddenly beheld in the seat of lawful princes;
but they wither away like the grass, and
their place knows them no more. Manfred, casting a look of scorn at the friar,
led Hippolita forth; but, at the door of the
church, whispered one of his attendants to
remain concealed about the convent, and
bring him instant notice, if any one from
the castle should repair thither.

CASTLE

Or' OTRANTO.

35

my lord-poor lady ! she "is wonderfully
CHAP. V
alarmed about her father's wounds; but 1
tell her he will do well, don't your highEVER" reflection which Manfred made on ness think so ?-1 do not ask you, replied
the friar's behaviour conspired to persuade Manfred, what she thinks about her fahim that Jerome was privy to an amour ther: but you are in her secrets: come,
between Isabella and Theodore. But Je- 'be a good girl, and tell me; is there any
rome's new presumption, so dissonant from young man-ha !-you understand me.his former meekness, suggested still deeper Lord bless me ! understand your highness
apprehensions. The prince even suspected no, not I; I told her a few vulnerary herbs
that the friar depended on some secret sup- and repose---I am not talking, replied
port from Frederick, whose arrival, coin. the prince impatiently, about her father:
ciding with the novel appearance of Theo- I know he will do well. Bless me, I re.
dore, seemed to bespeak a correspondence. joice to hear your highness say so: for
Still more was he troubled with the resem- though I thought it not right to let my
blance of Theodore to Alfonso's portrait. young lady despond, methought his great.
The latter he knew had unquestionably ness had a wan look, and a something-I
died without issue. Frederick had con- remember when young Ferdinand was
Thou ansented to bestow Isabella on him.-These wounded by the Venetiancontradictions agitated his mind with num- swerest from the point, interrupted Man.
berless pangs. He saw but two methods fred; but here, take this jewel; perhaps
of extricating himself from his difficulties. that may fix thy attention-nay, no reveThe one was to resign his dominions to the rences ; my favour shall not stop here-Marquis-pride, ambition, and his reliance come, tell me truly; how stands Isabella's
on ancient prophecies, which had pointed heart ?-Well! your highness has such a
but can
out a possibility of preserving them to his way ! said Bianca, to be sure,posterity, combated that thought. The your highness keep a secret ?-if it should
other was to press his marriage with Isa- ever come out of your lips---It shall not,
bells. After long ruminating on these it shall not, cried Manfred. Nay, but
anxious thoughts, as he marched silently swear, your highness :-by my halidame,
with Hippolita to the castle, he at last dis. if it should ever be known that I said itcoursed with that princess on the subject Why, truth is truth, 1 do not think my
of his disquiet, and used every insinuating lady Isabella ever much affectioned my
and plausible argument to extract her con- young lord, your son-yet he was a sweet
sent to, even her promise of promoting the youth as one should see---I am sure, if I
divorce. Hippolita needed little persua- had been a princess-but bless me ! I must
sions to bend her to his pleasure. She en- attend my Lady Matilda; she will marvel
deavoured to win him over to the measure what is become of me.-Stay, cried Manof resigning his dominions; but, finding fred; thou hast not satisfied my question.
her exhortation fruitless, she assured him, Hast thou ever carried any message, any
that, as far as her conscience would allow, letter ?-1 good gracious! cried Bianca;
she would raise no opposition to a separa. 1 carry a letter? I would not, to be a
tion, though without better founded scru- queen.
I hope your highness thinks,
ples than what he yet alleged, she would though I am poor, I am honest ;-did your
highness never hear what Count Marsigli
not engage to be active in demanding it.
This compliance, though inadequate, offered me, when he came a-wooing to my
was sufficient to raise Manfred's hopes. Lady Matilda ?-I have not leisure, said
He trusted that his power and wealth Manfred, to listen to thy tale. I do not
would easily advance his suit at the court question thy honesty; but it is thy duty to
of Rome, whither he resolved to engage conceal nothing from me. How long has
Frederick to take a journey on purpose. Isabella been acquainted with Theodore?
That prince had discovered so much pas- -Nay, there is nothing can escape your
sion for Matilda that Manfred hoped to ob- highness! said Bianca-not that I know
tain all he wished, by holding out or with- any thing of the matter-Theodore, to be
drawing his daughter's charms, according sure, is a proper young man, and, as
as the Marquis should appear more or less my Lady Matilda says, the very image of
disposed to co-operate in his views. Even good Alfonso: has not your highness rethe absence of Frederick would be a ma- marked it ?-Yes, yes,-No-thou torturest
terial point gained, until he could take far- me, said Manfred. Where did they meet?
-when ?-who! my Lady Matilda? said
ther measures for his security.
Dismissing Hippolita to her apartment, Bianca. No, no, not Matilda; Isabella.
he repaired to that of the Marquis; but When did Isabella first become acquainted
crossing the great hall, through which he with this Theodore ?-Virgin Mary, said
was to pass, he met Bianca. The damsel Bianca, how should I know ?-Thou dost
he knew was in the confidence of both the know, said Manfred, and I must know; I
young ladies. It immediately occurred to will-Lord; your highness is not jealous of
him to sift her on the subject of Isabella young Theodore! said Bianca. Jealous!
and Theodore. Calling her aside into the no, no : why should I be jealous ?-perhaps
recess of the oriel window of the hall, and I mean to unite them. If I were sure Isa.
Repugsoothing her with many fair words and bella would have no repugnancepromises, he demanded of her whether she nance! no, I'll warrant her, said Bianca:
knew aught of the state of Isabella's affl'ec- he is as comely a youth as ever trod on
tions ? I ! my lord I no, my lord--yes, Christian ground. We are all in love with

86

CASTLE OUr OTRANTO,

him ; there is not a soul in the castle but
would be rejoiced to have him forour
prince-I mean, when it shall please heaven to call your highness to itself.-Indeed !
said Manfred; has it gone so far? oh! this
cursed friar !-but I must not lose time:go, Bianca, attend Isabella ; but, I charge
thee, not a word of what has passed. Find
out how she is affected towards Theodore :
bring me good news, and that ring has a
companion. Wait at the foot of the winding staircase : I am going to visit the Marquis, and will talk farther with thee at my
return.
Manfred, after some general conversation, desired Frederick to dismiss the two
knights, his companions, having to talk
with him on urgent affairs. As soon as
they were alone, he began, in artful guise,
to sound the Marquis on the subject of
Matilda; and, finding him disposed to his
wish, he let drop hints on the difficulties
that would attend the celebration of their
marriage, unless-at that instant Bianca burst into the room, with a wildness
in her look and gestures that spoke the
utmost terror. Oh! my lord, my lord !
cried she, we are all undone ! it is come
again ! it is come again !-What is come
again? cried Manfred, amazed. Oh ! the
nand ! the giant ! the hand !-support me !
I amterrified out of my senses, cried Bianca. I will not sleep in the castle to-night.
Where shall I go ?-my things may come
after me to-morrow-would I had been
content to wed Francesco !-this comes of
ambition !-What has terrified thee thus,
young woman? said the Marquis ; thou
art safe here; be not alarmed.-Oh ! your
greatness is wonderfully good, said Bianca,
but I dare not-no, pray, let me go-I had
rather leave every thing behind me than
stay another hour under this roof-Go to
-thou hast lost thy senses, said Manfred.
Interrupt us not; we were communing on
important matters. My lord, this wench
is subject to fits. Come with me, Bianca.
-Oh! the saints! no, said Bianca: for
certain it comes to warn your highness:
why should it appear to me else? I say my
prayers morning and evening-oh! if your
highness had believed Diego ! it is the same
hand that he saw the foot to in the gallery
chamber-Father Jerome has often told us
the prophecy would be out one of thcse
days, " Bianca," said he, "mark my words
-" -Thou ravest, said Manfred, in a
rage; begone, and keep these fooleries to
frighten thy companions.-What j my
lord, cried Bianca, do you think I have
seen nothing? go to the foot of the great
stairs yourself-as I live, I saw it.-Saw
what ? tell us, fair maid, what thou hast
seen, said Frederick. Can your highness
listen, said Manfred, to the delirium of a
silly wench, who has heard stories of apparitions, until she believes them ?-This is
more than fancy, said the Marquis, her terror is too natural, and too strongly impressed, to be the work of imagination.
Tell us, fair maiden, what is it has moved
thee thus.-Yes, my lord; thank your
greatness, said Blanca
I be.ieve I look

very pale; I shall be better when I have
recovered myself. I was going to my Lady
Isabella's chamber, by his highness's order.We do not want the circumstances, interrupted Manfred: since his
highness will have it so proceed; but be
brief.-Lord! your highness thwarts one
so! replied Bianca: I fear my hair-I am
sure I never in my life-well! as I was
telling your greatness, I was going, by his
highness's order, to my lady Isabella's
chamber : she lies in the watchet-coloured
chamber, on the right hand, one pair of
stairs: so when I came to the great stairs
-I was looking on his highness's present
here-Grant me patience, said Manfred ;
will this wench never come to the point?
what imports it to the Marquis, that I gave
thee a bauble, for thy faithful attendance
on my daughter ? we want to know what
thou sawest.-I was going to tell your
highness, said Bianca, if you would permit
me. So as I was rubbing the ring-I am
sure I had not gone up three steps, but I
heard the rattling of armour; for all the
world such a clatter, as Diego says he heard
when the giant turned him about in the
gallery chamber.-What does she mean,
my lord ! said the Marquis : is your castle
haunted by giants and goblins? Lord !
what, has not your greatness heard the
story of the giant in the gallery chamber?
cried Bianca. I marvel his highness has
not told you-mayhap you do not know
there is a prophecy-This trifling is into.
lerable, interrupted Manfred. Let us dismiss this silly wench, my lord! we have
more important affairs to discuss.-By your
favour, said Frederick, these are no trifles :
the enormous sabre I was directed to in
the wood, yon casque, its fellow-are these
visions of this poor maiden's brain ?-So
Jaquez thinks, may it please your greatness, said Bianca. He says this moon will
not be out without our seeing some strange
revolution. For my part I should not be
surprised if it was to happen to-morrow;
for, as I was saying, when I heard the clattering of armour, I was all in a cold sweat
-I looked up, and if your greatness will
believe me, I saw upon the uppermost ban.
nister of the great stairs a hand in armour
as big, as big-I thought I should have
swooned-I never stopped until I came hither-would I were well out of this castle!
My Lady Matilda told me but yester morn.
ing that her highness Hippolita knows
something-Thou art an insolent, cried
Manfred;-Lord Marquis, it much mis.
gives me that this scene is concerted to af.
front me. Are my own domestics suborn.
ed to spread tales injurious to my honour ?
Pursue your claim by manly daring ; or
let us bury our feuds, as was proposed, by
the intermarriage of our children: but
trust me, it ill becomes a prince of your
bearing to practise on mercenary wenches.
-I scorn your imputation, said Frederick:
until this hour I never set eyes on this
damsel: I have given her no jewel !-my
lord, my lord, your conscience, your guilt
accuses you, and you would throw the suspicion on me--but keep your daughter, and

CASTLE OF OTR ANTO.
think no more of Isabella; the judgments
already fallen on your house forbid me
matching into it.
Manfred, alarmed at the resolute tone in
which Frederick delivered the words, endeavoured to pacify him.
Dismissing
Bianca, he made such submissions to the
Marquis, and threw in such artful encomiums on Matilda, that Frederick was
once more staggered. However, as his
passion was of so recent a date, it could
not, at once, surmount the scruples he had
conceived. He had gathered enough from
Bianca's discourse to persuade him that
Heaven declared itself against Manfred.
The proposed marriages too removed his
claim to a distance; and the principality
of Otranto was a stronger temptation than
the contingent reversion of it with Matilda. Still he would not absolutely recede
from his engagements; but, proposing to
gain time, he demanded of Manfred if it
was true, in fact, that Hippolita consented
to the divorce. The prince, transported to
find no other obstacle, and depending on
his influence over his wife, assured the
Marquis it was so, and that he might satisfy himself of the truth from her own
mouth.
As they were thus discoursing, word was
brought that the banquet was prepared.
Manfred conducted Frederick to the great
hall, where they were received by Hippolita and the young princesses.
Manfred
placed the Marquis next to Matilda, and
seated himself between his wife and Isabella. Hippolita comforted herself with an
easy gravity ; but the young ladies were
silent and melancholy. Manfred, who was
determined to pursue his point with the
Marquis in the remainder of the evening,
pushed on the feast until it waxed late;
affecting unrestrained gayety, and plying
Frederick with repeated goblets of wine.
The latter, more upon his guard than Manfred wished, declined his frequent chal.
lenges, on pretence of his late loss of blood;
while the prince, to raise his own disordered spirits, and to counterfeit unconcern,
indulged himself in plentiful draughts,
though not to the intoxication of his
senses.
The evening being far advanced, the
banquet concluded. Manfred would have
withdrawn with Frederick; but the latter
pleading weakness and want of repose,
retired to his chamber, gallantly telling the prince, that his daughter should
amuse his highness until himself could attend him. Manfred accepted the party,
gand, to the no small grief of Isabella, actompanied her to her apartment. Matilda
waited on her mother to enjoy the freshaess of the evening on the ramparts of the
castle,
Soon as the company were dispersed their
several ways, Frederick, quitting his chainher, inquired if Hippolita was alone, and
was told by one of her attendants, who had
not noticed her going forth, that at that
hour she generally withdrew to her oratory, where he probably would find her.
The Marquis, during the repast, had be-

87

held Matilda with increase of passion. He
now wished to find Hippolita in the disposition her lord had promised. The por.
tents that had alarmed him were forgotten
in his desires. Stealing softly and unob.
served to the apartment of Hippolita, he
entered it with a resolution to encourage
her acquiescence to the divorce, having
perceived that Manfred was resolved to
make the possession of Isabella an unalterable condition, before he would grant Matilda to his wishes.
The Marquis was not surprised at the
silence that reigned in the princess's apartment. Concluding her, as he had been
advertised, in her oratory, he passed on.
The door was ajar; the evening gloomy
and overcast. Pushing open the door gently, he saw a person kneeling before the al.
tar. As he approached nearer, it seemed
not a woman, but one in a long woollen
weed, whose back was towards him. The
person seemed absorbed in prayer. The
Marquis was about to return, when the
figure, rising, stood some moments fixed in
meditation, without regarding him. The
Marquis, expecting the holy person to
come forth, and meaning to excuse his un.
civil interruption, said, Reverend father,
I sought the Lady Hippolita.-Hippolita !
replied a hollow voice, camest thou to this
castle to seek Hippolita ? and then the
figure turning slowly round, discovered to
Frederick the fleshless jaws and empty
sockets of a skeleton, wrapped i. a hermit's
cowl. Angels of grace protect me! cried
Frederick, recoiling. Deserve their pro.
tection ! said the spectre. Frederick, falling on his knees, adjured the phantom to
take pity on him. Dost thou not remem.
ber me? said the apparition. Remember
the wood of Joppa !-Art thou that holy
hermit ? cried Frederick trembling. Can
I do aught for thy eternal peace ?-Wast
thou delivered from bondage, said the spectre, to pursue carnal delights ?-Hast thou
forgotten the buried sabre, and the behest
of heaven engraven on it ?-I have not, I
have not, said Frederick: but say, blessed
spirit, what is thy errand to me ?-what
remains to be done?-To forget Matilda !
said the apparition-and vanished.
Frederick's blood froze in his veins. For
some minutes he remained motionless.
Then, falling prostrate on his face before
the altar, he besought the intercession of
every saint for pardon. A flood of tears
succeeded to this transport; and the
image of the beauteous Matilda rushing in
spite of him, on his thoughts, he lay on the
ground in a conflict of penitence and passion. Ere he could recover from this agony of his spirits, the Princess Hippolita,
with a taper in her hand, entered the oratory alone. Seeing a man, without motion,
on the floor, she gave a shriek, concluding
him dead. Her fright brought Frederick to
himself. Rising suddenly, his face bedewed
with tears, he would have rushed from her
presence; but Hippolita, stopping him, conjured him, in the most plaintive accents,
to explain the cause of his disorder, and by
what strange chance she had found him

38

CASTLE OF OTRANTO.

there in that posture. Ah ! virtuous princess, said the Marquis, penetrated with
griefand stopped. For the love of
heaven, my lord, said Hippolita, disclose
the cause of this transport ! What mean
these doleful sounds, this alarming excla.
mation on my name ? What woes has
Heaven still in store for the wretched Hip.
polita ?-Yet silent !-By every pitying
angel, I adjure thee, noble prince, continued she, falling at his feet, to disclose the
purport of what lies at thy heart-I see
thou feelest for me; thou feelest the sharp
pangs that thou mflictest-speak, for pity !
-does aught thou knowest concern my
child ?-I cannot speak, cried Frederick,
bursting from her-Oh! Matilda !
Quitting the princess thus abruptly, he
hastened to his own apartment. At the
door of it he was accosted by Manfred,
who, flushed by wine and love, had come
to seek him, and to propose to waste some
hours of the night in music and revelling.
Frederick, offended at an invitation so dis.
sonant from the mood of his soul, pushed
him rudely aside, and entering his chamber, flung the door intemperately against
Manfred, and bolted it inwards. The
haughty prince, enraged at this unaccountable behaviour, withdrew in a frame of
mind capable of the most fatal excesses.
As he crossed the court, he was met by the
domestic, whom he had planted at tie con.
vent, as a spy on Jerome and Theodore.
This man, almost breathless with the haste
he had made, informed his lord, that Theo.
dore and some lady from the castle were at
that instant in private conference at the
tomb of Alfonso, in St. Nicholas's church.
He had dogged Theodore thither, but the
gloominess of the night had prevented his
discovering who the woman was.
Manfred, whose spirits were inflamed,
and whom Isabella had driven from her on
his urging his passion with too little reserve, did not doubt but the inquietude she
had expressed had been occasioned by her
impatience to meet Theodore. Provoked
by this conjecture, and enaged at her father, he hastened secretly to the great
church. Gliding softly between tihe aisles,
and guided by an imperfect gleam of moon.shine that shone faintly through the illuminated windows, he stole towards the
tomb of Alfonso, to which he was directed
by indistinct whispers of the persons he
sought.-The first sounds he could distinguish were-Does it, alas ! depend on
me ? Manfred will never permit our union
-No,
this shall prevent it! cried the tyrant, drawing his dagger, and plunging it
over her shoulder into the bosom of the
person that spoke-Ah, me ? I am slain !
cried Matilda, sinking: good heaven, receive my soul!-Savage inhuman monster !
what hast thou done, cried Theodore,
rushing on him, and wrenching his dagger
from him-Stop, stop thy impious hand !
cried Matilda: it is my father! Manfred,
waking as from a trance, beat his breast,
twisted his hands in his locks, and endeavoured to recover his dagger from Theodore, to despatch himself. Theodore

scarce less distracted, and only masterinE
the transports of his grief, to assist Matil.
da, had now, by his cries, drawn some of
the monks, to his aid. While part of them
endeavoured, in concert with the afflicted
Theodore, to stop the blood of the dying
princess, the rest prevented Manfred from
laying violent hands on himself.
Matilda, resigning herself patiently to her
fate, acknowledged, with looks of grateful
love, the zeal of Theodore. Yet, oft as her
faintness would permit her speech its way,
she begged the assistants to comfort her
father. Jerome by this time had learned
the fatal news, and reached the church.
His looks seemed to reproach Theodore :
but, turning to Manfred, he said, Now, tyrant ! behold the completion of woe fulfilled on thy impious and devoted head! The
blood of Alfonso cried to heaven for vengeance, and heaven has permitted its altar
to be polluted by assassination, that thou
mightest shed thy own blood at the foot of
that prince's sepulchre !-Cruel man ! cried
Matilda, to aggravate the woes of a parent!
may heaven bless my father, and forgive
him as I do ! My lord, my gracious sire,
dost thou forgive thy child ! Indeed I
came not hither to meet Theodore ! I found
him praying at this tomb, whither my mother sent me to intercede for thee, for her
-dearest father, bless your child, and say
you forgive herForgive thee !-murderous monster ! cried Manfred-can assassins forgive ? I took thee for Isabella;
but hesven directed my bloody hand to the
heart of my child-oh ! Matilda-I cannot
utter it,.-canst thou forgive the blindness
of my rage !-I can, I do ! and may heaven
confirm it! said Matilda-but while I have
life to ask it-Oh : my mother ! what will
she feel!-will you comfort her, my lord !
will you not put her away? indeed she
loves you-oh ! I am faint ! bear me to the
castle-can I live to have her close my
eyes ?
Theodore and the monks besought her
earnestly to suffer herself to be borne into
the convent ; but her instances were so
pressing to be carried to the castle, that,
placing her on a litter, they conveyed her
thither as she requested; Theodore supporting her head with his arm, and hanging over her in an agony of despairing love,
still endeavoured to inspire her with hopes
of life. Jerome, on the other side, comforted her with discourses of heaven, and
holding a crucifix before her, which she
bathed with innocent tears, prepared her
for her passage to immortality. Manfred,
plunged in the deepest affliction, followed
the litter in despair.
Ere they reached the castle, Hippolita,
informed of the dreadful catastrophe, had
flown to meet her murdered child : but
when she saw the afflicted procession, the
mightiness of her grief deprived her of her
senses, and she fell lifeless to the earth in
a swoon. Isabella and Frederick, who attended her, were overwhelmed in almost
equal sorrow. Matilda alone seemed insensible to her own situation: every
thought was lost in tenderness for her Mo-

CASTLE OF OTRANlO.
ther. Ordering the litter to stop, as soon
as Hippolita was brought to herself, she
asked for her father. He approached, unable to speak. Matilda, seizing his hand
and her mother's, locked them in her own,
and then clasped them to her heart. Manfred could not support this act of pathetic
piety. He dashed himself on the ground,
and cursed the day he was born. Isabella,
apprehensive that these struggles of passion were more than Matilda could support, took upon herself to order Manfred
to be borne to his apartment, while she
caused Matilda to be conveyed to the near.
est chamber. Hippolita, scarce more alive
than her daughter, was regardless of every
thing but her: but when the tender Isabella's cares would have likewise removed
her, while the surgeons examined Matilda's wound, she cried, Remove me ! never ! never ! I lived but in her, and will
expire with her. Matilda raised her eyes,
at her mother's voice, but closed them
Her sinking
again without speaking.
pulse, and the damp coldness of her hand,
soon dispelled all hopes of recovery. Theodore followed the surgeons into the outer
chamber, and heard them pronounce the
fatal sentence, with a transport equal to
phrenzy-Since she cannot live mine, cried
he, at least she shall be mine in death !
Father ! Jerome ! will you not join our
hands ? cried he to the friar, who, with the
Marquis had accompanied the surgeons.
What means thy distracted rashness? said
Jerome : Is this an hour for marriage ?It is, it is, cried Theodore; alas ! there is
no other !-Young man, thou art too unadvised, said Frederick :-dost thou think
we are to listen to thy fond transports in
this hour of fate?-what pretensions hast
thou to the princess ?-Those of a prince,
said Theodore-of the sovereign of Otranto. This reverend man, my father, has
informed me who I am.-Thou ravest, said
the Marquis; there is no prince of Otranto
but myself, now Manfred, by murder, by
sacrilegious murder, has forfeited all pretensions.-My Jord, said Jerome, assuming
an air of command, he tells you true. It
was not my purpose the secret should have
been divulged so soon: but fate presses
onward to its work. What his hotheaded
passion has revealed my tongue confirms.
Know, prince, that when Alfonso set sail
for the Holy LandIs this a season for
explanations ? cried Theodore.-Father,
come and unite me to the princess : she
shall be mine-in every other thing I will
dutifully obey you.
My life, my adored
Alatilda! continued Theodore, rushing
Mack into the inner chamber, will you not
be mine? will you not bless your-.
Isabella made signs to him to be silent, ap.
prehending the princess was near her end.
What, is she dead, cried Theodore: is it
possible!-The violence of his exclamations brought Matilda to herself. Lifting
up her eyes, she looked round for her mother-Life of my soul! 1 am here, cried
Hippolita; think not that I will quit thee !
-Oh ! you are too good, said Matilda-but
weep not for me, my mother !-I am going

39

where sorrow never dwells-Isabella, thou
hast loved me; wo't thou not supply my
fondness to this dear, dear woman ?-indeed I am faint!
Oh my child! my
child! said Hippolita, in a flood of tears;
can I not withhold thee a moment ?-lt
will not be, said Matilda-commend me to
heaven :-where is my father ?-forgive
him, dearest mother-forgive him my
death; it was an error-Oh! I had forgotten-dearest mother, I vowed never to see
Theodore more-perhaps that has drawn
down this calamity-but it was not intentional-can you pardon me !-Oh! wound
not my agonizing soul! said Hippolita;
thou never couldst offend me-Alas ! she
faints! help! help !-I would say something more, said Matilda, struggling; but
it wonnot be--Isabella-Theodore-for my
sake-Oh !-she expired. Isabella and her
women tore Hippolita from the corse; but
Theodore threatened destruction to all
who attempted to remove him from it. He
printed a thousand kisses on her clay cold
hands, and uttered every expression that
despairing love could dictate.
Isabella, in the mean time, was accom.
panying the afflicted Hippolita to her
apartment; but, in the middle of the court,
they were met by Manfred, who, distracted with his own thoughts, and anxious
once more to behold his daughter, was advancing to the chamber where she lay. As
the moon was now at its height, he read in
the countenances of this unhappy company
the event he dreaded. What ! is she dead?
cried he, in wild confusion
a clap
of thunder at that instant shook the castle
to its foundations; the earth rocked, and
the clank of more than mortal armour was
heard behind. Frederick and Jerome
thought the last day was at hand. The
latter, forcing Theodore along with them,
rushed into the court. The moment Thee
dore appeared, the walls of the castle be,
hind Manfred were thrown down with a
mighty force, and the form of Alfonso, dilated to an immense magnitude, appeared
in the centre of the ruins. Behold in
Theodore the true heir of Alfonso! said
the vision: and having pronounced these
words, accompanied by a clap of thunder,
it ascended solemnly towards heaven,
where, the clouds parting asunder, the form
of St. Nicholas was seen, and receiving Alfonso's shade, they were soon wrapt from
mortal eyes in a blaze of glory.
The beholders fell prostrate on their
faces, acknowledging the divine will. The
first that broke silence was Hippolita. My
lord, said she to the desponding Manfred,
behold the vanity of human greatness !
Conrad is gone! Matilda is no more! in
Theodore we view the true Prince of
Otranto. By what miracle he is so, I
know not-suffice it to us-our doom is
pronounced! shall we not, can we but dedicate the few deplorable hours we have
to live, ir deprecating the farther wrath
of heaven? Heaven ejects us-whither
can we fly, but to yon holy cells that yet
offer us a retreat ?-Thou guiltless, but unhappy woman! unhappy by my crimes !

i

40

CASTLE OF OTRANTO.

replied Manfred, my heart at last is open
to thy devout admonitions. Oh ! couldbut it cannot be--ye are lost in wonderlet me at last do justice on myself! To heap
shame on my own head is all the satisfaction I have left to offer to offended heaven.
My story has drawn down these judgments: let my confession atone-but ah !
what can atone for usurpation, and a murdered child ! a child murdered in a conseList, sirs, and may this
crated place!
bloody record be a warning to future tyrants!
Alfonso, ye all know, died in the Holy
Land-ye would interrupt me; ye would
say he came not fairly to his end-it is
most true-why else this bitter cup which
Manfred must drink to the dregs ? Ricardo, my grandfather, was his chamberlain
-I would draw a veil over my ancestor's
crimes-but it is in vain ! Alfonso died by
poison. A fictitious will declared Ricardo
ois heir. His crimes pursued him-yet he
I pay the
lost no Conrad, no Matilda!
price of usurpation for all ! A storm overtook him. Haunted by his guilt, he vowed to St. Nicholas to found a church and
two convents, if he lived to reach Otranto.
The sacrifice was accepted: the saint appeared to him in a dream, and promised
that Ricardo's posterity should reign in
Otranto, until the rightful owner should be
grown too large to inhabit the castle, and as
long as issue male from Ricardo's loins
should remain to enjoy it-Alas ! alas ! nor
male nor female, except myself, remains of
all his wretched race!-I have done-the
woes of these three days speak the rest.
How this young man can be Alfonso's
heir, I know not-yet I do not doubt it.
His are these dominions; I resign themyet I knew not Alfonso bad an heir-I
question not the will of heaven-poverty
and prayer must fill up the woful space,
until Manfred shall be summoned to Ricardo.
What remains is my part to declare, said
Jerome. When Alfonso set sail for the
Holy Land, he was driven by a storm to
the coast of Sicily. The other vessel which
bore Ricardo and his train, as your lordship
must have heard, was separated from him.
-It is most true, said Manfred : and the

title you give me is more than an outcast
can claim-well! be it so-proceed Je.
rome blushed, and continued. For three
months Lord Alfonso was wind-bound in
Sicily. There he became enamoured of a
fair virgin, named Victoria. He was too
pious to tempt her to forbidden pleasures
They were married.-Yet deeming this
amour incongruous with the holy vow of
arms by which he was bound, he determined
to conceal their nuptials, until his return
from the Crusado, when he purposed to
seek and acknowledge her for his lawful
wife. He left her pregnant. During his
absence she was delivered of a daughter :
but scarce had she felt a mother's pangs,
ere she heard the fatal rumour of her lord's
death, and the succession of Ricardo. What
could a friendless, helpless woman do.
Would her testimony avail ?-Yet, my lord,
I have an authentic writing-It needs not,
said Manfred: the horrors of these days,
the vision we have but now seen, all corroborate thy evidence beyond a thousand
parchments. Matilda's death, and my expulsion-Be composed, my lord, said Hip.
polita; this holy man did not mean to re.
call your griefs. Jerome proceeded.
I shall not dwell on what is needless.The daughter of which Victoria was delivered was at her maturity bestowed in
marriage on me. Victoria died; and the
secret remained locked in my breast
Theodore's narrative has told the rest.
The friar ceased. The disconsolate
company retired to the remaining part of
the castle. In the morning Manfred sign.
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too fresh to admit the thought of another love; and it was not until after frequent discourses with Isabella of his dear
Matilda, that he was persuaded he could
know no happiness but in the society or
one with whom he could for ever indulge
the melancholy that had taken possession
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