COLLECTION ANGLAISE , o u CHOIX DE MORCEAUX EXTRAITS DE DIVERS AUTEURS, A Tusage de ceux qui veulent apprendre i'Anglais. Par TH, W. >\ V\\\\\ W VW\\ A \ \\ A LYON, Chez Cor m on et Blanc. ♦ -, ■ ■ . .1 . -♦ 1S16, ENGLISH COLLECTION O R CHOICE OF EXTRACTS FROM SEVERAL AUTHORS, For the use of those , who desire to improve the knowledge of the English language* Bx TH. W. *\^ \ w\ vtviw \ W*"V LIONS, Printed for Cormon and Blanc. ♦ n il ■ l> ■ ■ li nn ■» i 8x6. ^p De rimprJmerie de J.B. Kindzljem. '3© />;: ++ »-. % .? \Jn* ;%*> •*- D, TABLE 07 'V bon Sens. P a ge i De V Etude. 3 De V Esprit satiricjiie. 4 La sensibilite. 6 La liber te et Vesclavage. 7 His to ire de Lefevre. 9 Le comte Arundel propose , etc* 25 j&loge de la Vertiu 5o Sur le Bonheur. 52 De la Modestie. 4° De la bonne Education. 45 De la proprete. 5i De V elegance de V expression. 5a Du choix de la socie'te. 5 7 £)« Commerce et des Arts. 61 De Vinegalite des rangs. 66 De Dieu. 68 Si Vestime doit etre considered , etc. 74 Naissance de Gil Bias. 81 Gil Bias part pour Salamanque. 84 Gil Bias arrete par des voleurs* < 9? , Description de la cay erne , etc. $ 100* Arrivee d autre s voleurs r etc. i©4 Tentative de Gil Bias. ii5 De ce que fit Gil Bias. 120 Gil Bias accompagne les voleurs. ?25 Affaire serieuse , etc. 127 Comment se comporterent les voleurs* i5o Histoire de la dame Mencia* 159 vj TABLE. De quelle maniere desagreable , etc* i5o Comment Gil Bias sortit de la prison. i55 Reception que fit a Burgos , etc. 160 JNouveaux pre sens , etc. 166 Description de Botany Bay* 172 Du port Jackson. 17S De la Chine. 187 Description de Pekin* 192 De Calcutta* j y5 £te Madras. 198 Description de Londres, 202 Description de Paris. 212 Constantinople. 216 ■Etes Pyr amides d' Egypt e* 219 Execution de Marie , e/c 223 Conquete du Mcxique. 256 Portrait de la famille de TV ake field. 261 Malheur de la famille de JVakefield. 266 .La famille change de demeure. 272, La famille trouve le bonheur , e/c. 28S D5 JVaixsance de Robinson , £/c. 529 Fin de la Table. COLLECTION COLLECTION ANGLAISE , O U CHOIX DE MORCEAUX EXTRAITS J>E DIVERS AUTEURS ANGLAIS. Du bon Sens* W ere I to explain what I understand by good sense , I should call it right reason ; but right reason that arises not from formal and logical deductions , but from a sort of intuitive faculty in the soul , which distinguishes by im- mediate perception : a kind of innate sagacity, that in many of its properties seems very much to resemble instinct. It would be improper , therefore, to say, that Sir Isaac Newton shewed his good sense, by those amasing discoveries which he made in natural philosophy ; the operations of this gift of Heaven are rather instantanious than the result of any tedious process. Like Diomed , after Minerva had indued him with the power of discerning gods from mortals , the man of good sense disco- vers at once the truth of those objacts he is most concerned to distinguish ; and conducts himself with suitable caution and security. It is for this raason , possibly, that this qua- lity of the mind is not often found united with A (2) learning as one could wish;for good sense being accustomed to receive her discoveries without labour or study, she cannot so easily wait for those truths , which being placed at a distance, and lying concealed under numberless covers , require much pains and application to unfold. But though good sense is not in the number, nor always, it must be owned, in the com- pany of the sciences ; yet is it ( as the most sensible of poets has justly observed ) * fairly worth the seven. ' Rectitude of understanding is indeed the most useful , as w^ell as the most noble of human endowments , as it is the sovereign guide and director in every branch of civil and social intercourse. Upon whatever occasion this enlightening faculty is exerted , it is always sure to act with distinguished eminence ; but its chief and peculiar province seems to lie in the commerce of the world. Accordingly we may observe that those who have conversed more with men than with books ; whose wisdom is de- rived rather from experience than contem- plation \ generally possess this happy talent with superior perfection. For good sense though it cannot be acquired , may be im- proved ; and the world , I believe , will ever be found to afford the mots kindly soil for its cultivation. Mel moth. (3) De V Etude. Studies serve fort delight , for ornament , and for ability. The chief use for delight is in privateness and retiring \ for ornament , is in discourse ; and for ability ? is in the judgment and disposition of business. For expert men can execute , and perhaps judge of particulars one by one j but the geneial counsels, and the plots , and marshalling of aftairs , come best from those that are learned. To spend too much time in studies is sloth ; to use them too much for ornament is affectation ; to make judgment wholly by their rules is the hu- mour of a scholar. They perfect nature , and are perfected by experience ; for natural abi- lities are like natural plants, that need pru- ning by duty , and studies themselves do give forth directions too much at large , except they De bounded in by experience. Crafty men contemn studies , simple men admire them , and wise men use them : for they teach not their own use , buth that is a wisdom without them , and above them , won by ob- servation. Read not to contradict and con- fute , nor to believe and take for granted 9 nor to fin J talk and discourse , but to weigh and consider. Some books are to be tasted 9 others to be swallowed 9 and some few to be chewed and digested ; that is , some books are to be read only in parts ; others to be A 2 (4) read but not curiously ; and some few to be read wholly , and with diligence and atten- tion. Some books also may be read by de- puty , and extracts made of them by others ; but that should be only in the less important arguments , and the meaner sorts of books j else distilled books are like common distilled waters , flashy things. Reading maketh a full man ; conference a ready man ; and writing an exact man. And therefore, if a man write little , he had need have a great memory ; if he confer little , he had need have a present wit ; and if he read little , he had need have much cunning to seem to know that he doth not. Bacon. De VEsprit satirique* — Trust me, this unwary pleasantry of thine will sooner or later bring thee infb scra- pes and difficulties , which no after wit can extrincate thee out of. In these sallies , too oft I see , it happens , that the person laughed at considers himself in the light of a person injured, with all the rights of such a situation belonging to him , and when thou viewest him in that light too , and reckonest upon his friends , bis family , his kindred and allies , and musterest up with them the many recruits which will list under him from a «ense of common danger $ 'tis no extravagant ( 5) arithmetic to say , that for every ten Jokes 9 thou hast got an hundred enemies ; and , till thou hast gone on , and raised a swarm of wasps about thine ears , and art half stung to death by them , thou wilt never be con- vinced it is so. I cannot suspect it in the man whom I es- teem , that there is the least spur from spleen or malevolence of intent in these sallies. I believe and know them to be truly honest and sportive ; but consider , that fools cannot distinguish this , and that knaves will not ; and thou knowest not what it is , either to prov i Your honour , replied the corporal , is to© much concerned ; shall I pour your honour out a glass of sack to jour pipe I Do, Trim 9 said my uncle Toby. I remember , said my uncle Toby , sighing again , the story of the ensign and his wife 9 with a circumstauce his modesty omitted ; and particularly well that he , as well as she , upon some account or other , I forget what , was universally pitied by the whole regiment : but finish the story thou art upon. 'Tis finish'd already , said the corporal , for I could stay no longer , so wished his honour a good night : young Le Fevre rose from off the bed , and saw me to the bottom of the stairs ; and as we went down together , told me they had come from Ireland , and were on their route to join the regiment in Flanders. But alas ! said the corporal , the lieutenant's last day's march is over. Then what is to become of his poor boy ! cried my oncle Toby. It was to my uncle Toby's eternal honour- though I tell it only for the sake of those 9 who , when cooped in betwixt a natural and positive law , know not for their souls which way in the world to turn themselves : That notwithstanding my uncle Toby was warmly- engaged at that time in carrying on the siege of Dendermond , parallel with the allies , who pressed their's on so vigorously , that they scarce allowed him time to get his dinner — that nevertheless he" gave up Dendermond f (20) though he had already made a lodgment upon the counterscarp, and bent his whole thoughts towards the private distresses at the inn; and , except that he ordered the garden-gate to be bolted up , by which he migm; be said to have turned the siege of Dendermond into a blockade , — he left Dendermond to itself, to be relieved or not by the French king, as the French king thought good ; and onlj con. sidered how he himself should relieve the poor lieutenant and his son. — That kind Being , who is a friend to the friendless , shall recompence thee for this. Thou hast left this matter short , said my uncle Toby to the corporal , as he was putting him to bed , and I will tell thee in what , Trim. In the first place , when thou madest an offer of my services to Le Fevre , as sickness and travelling are both expensive , and thou kuowest he was but a poor lieutenant , with a son to subsist as well as himself, out of his pay , that thou didst not make an offer to him of my purse ; because , had he stood in need , thou knowest , Trim , he had been as welcome to it as myself. Your honour knows , said the corporal , I had no orders , — True, quoth my uncle Toby , — thou didst very right , Trim , as a soldier , — but certainly very wrong as a man. In the second place , for which, indeed , thou hast the same excuse , continued my uncle Toby , — when thou olferedst him (21 ) whatever was in my house — thou should'st have offered him my house too : — A sick brother officer should have the best quarters , Trim ; and if we had him with us , we could tend and look to him : — Thou art an excellent nurse thyself, Trim; and what with thy care of him and the old woman's , and his boy's and mine together , we might recruit him again at once , and set him upon his legs. — In a fortnight or three weeks , added my uncle Toby , smiling , — he might march He will never march , an* please your honour , in this world , said the corporal. — He will march ; said my uncle Toby , rising up from the side of the bed with one shoe off : — An' please your hdnour , said the corporal , he will never march but to his grave ; — He shall march , cried my uncle Toby , marching the foot which had a shoe on , though without advancing an inch , he shall march to his regiment. — He cannot stand it , said the corporal. — He shall be snpported , said my uncle Toby ; — He'll drop at last , said the corporal , and what will become of his boy t He shall not drop , said my uncle Toby , firmly.— A well-o'day , do what we can for him , said Trim , maintaining his point , the poor soul will die : — He shall not die , by G. — d ; cried my uncle Toby. The accusing spirit , which flew up to heaven's chancery with the oath , blush'd as he gave it m — and the recording angel , as ( 22 ) he wrote it down , dropp'd a tsar apoa the word , and blotted it out for ever. — My uncle Toby went to his bureau , put his purse into his breeches pocket , and having ordered the corporal to go early in the morning for a physician — he went to bed and fell asleep. The sun look'd bright the morning after to every eye in the village but Le Fevre's and his afflicted son's ; the hand of death pressed heavy upon his eye-lids , — and hardly could the wheel at the cistern turn round its circle , — when my uncle Toby , who had rose up an hour before his wonted time , entered the lieutenant's room , and without preface or apology , sat himself down upon the chair by the bed-side, and, independently of all modes and customs , opened the curtain in the manner an old friend and brother officer would have done it and asked him how he did , — how lie had rested in the night , — what was his complaint , where was his pain , •— and what he could do to help him I — and without giving him time to answer any one of the en- quiries , went on and told him of the little plan which he had been concerting with the corporal the night before for him. — You shall go home directly , Le Fevre , said my uncle Toby , to my house , — and we'll send for a doctor to see what's the matter , — and we'll have an apothecary — and the corporal shall be your nurse , — and I'll be your servant , Le Fevre. (23) There was a frankness in my uncle Toby, not the effect of familiarity , but the cause of it , which let you at once into his soul , and showed you the goodness of his nature : to this , there was something in his looks , and voice , and manner , superadded , which eternally beckoned to the unfortunate to come and take shelter under him ; so that before my uncle Toby had half finished the kind offers he was making to the father , had the son insensibly pressed up close to his knees , and had taken hold of the breast of his coat, and was pulling it towards him . — The blood and spirits of Le Fevre , which were waxing cold and slow within him , and were retrea- ting to their last citadel , the heart , rallied back , — the film forsook his eyes for a mo- ment , he looked up wishfully in my uncle Toby's face — then cast a look upon his boy , — ■ and that ligament , fine as it was , was never broken. Nature iustantly ebbed again , — the film returned to its place — the pulse flutter'd — • stoppM — went on -— throbb'd — stopp'd again — mo v'd — stopp'd — shall I go on— No. Sterne. Le comte Arundel propose irn accommo* dement entre Henri II et Etienne. In the midst of a wide and open plain , Henry found Stephen encamped , and pit- (24) died his own tents within a quarter of a mile of him 9 preparing for a battle with all the eagerness , that the desire of empire and glory could excite in a brave and you t hf u I heart , elate with success. Stephen also much wished to bring the contest between them to a speedy decision ; but , while he and Eustace were consulting with William of lpres , in whose affection they most confi- ded , and by whose private advice they took all their measures , the earl of*Arundel , having assembled the English nobility, and principal officers , spoke to this effect. It is now above sixteen years , that on a doubtful and disputed claim to the crown, the rage of civil war has almost continually infes- ted this kingdom. During this melancholy pe- riod how much blood has been shed ! What devastations and misery have been brought on the people ! The laws have lost their force , the crown its authorithy : licentiousness and impunity have shaken all the foundations of public security. This great and noble nation has been delivered a prey to the basest offoreigners, the abominable scum of Flanders , Brabant , and Bretagne , robbers rather than soldiers , restrained by no laws , divine or human , tied to no country , subject to no prince, instru- ments of all tyranny , violence , and oppres- sion. At the same time , our cruel neighbours , the Welch an the Scotch , calling themselves allies or auxiliaries to the Empress , but in rea* lity (25 ) lity enemies and destroyers of England , have broken their bounds , ravaged our borders , and taken from us whole provinces , which we can never hope to recover ; while , instead of employing our united force against them , we continue thus madly , without any care of our public safety or national honour, to turn our swords against our own bosoms. What benefits have we gained , to compensate all these losses , or what do we expect I When Matilda was mistress of the kingdom , though her power was not yet confirmed . in what manner did she govern ? Did she not make even those of her own faction and court regret the king I Was not her pride more intolerable still than his levity , her rapine than hts pro- fuseness I Were any years of his reign so grie- vous to the people , so offensive to the nobles, as the first days of her's I When she was dri- ven out , did Stephen correct his former bad conduct I Did he dismiss his odious foreign favourite I Did he discharge his lawless fo- reign hirelings , who had been so long the scourge and the reproach of England I Have they not lived ever since upon free quarter , by plundering our houses and burning our cities I And now , to compleat our miseries , a new army of foreigners, Angevins , Gascons, Poic- tevins , I know not who, are come over with Henry Plantagenet , the son of Matilda , and many more , no doubt, will be called to assist him as soon as ever his affairs abroad willper- B (26) rnit; by whose help , if he be victorious , En- gland must pay the price of their services : our lands , our honours must be the hire of these rapacious invaders. But suppose we should have the fortune to conquer for Stephen , what will be the consequeoce I Will victory teach liim moderation I Will he learn from security that regard to our liberties , which he could not learn from danger I Alas ! the only fruit of our good success will be this ; the estates of the earl of Leicester and others of our country- men , who have now quitted the party of the king, will be forfeited; and new confiscations will accrue to William of Ipres. But let us not hope , that b our victory ever so complete, it will give any lasting peace to this kindom. Should Henry fall in this battle , there are two other brothers to succeed to his claim, and support his faction, perhaps with less merit, but certainly with as much ambi- tion as be. What shall we do then to free our- selves from all these misfortunes I — Let us prefer the interest of 1 our country to that of our party , aud to all those passiobs , which are apt , in civil dissensions , to inflame zeal into madness , and render men the blind instru- ments of those very evils > which they fight to avoid. Let us prevent all the crimes and all the horrors that attend a war of this kind , in which conquest itself is full of calamity , and our most happy victories deserve to be cele- brated only by tears. Nature herself is dis- ( 27 ) mayed , and shrinks back from a combat where every blow that we strike, may murder' a friend , a relation , a parent. Let us hearken to her voice , which commands us to refrain from that guilt. Is there one of us here, who would not think it a happy and glorious act , to save the life of one of his countrymen I What a felicity then , and whath a glory , must it be to us all , if we save the lives of thousands of Englishmen, that must otherwise fall in this battle, and in many other battles, which , hereafter , may be fought on this quar- rel \ It is in our power to do so — It is in our power to end the controversy , both safely and honourably , by an amicable agreement j not by the sword. Stephen may enjoy the roval dignity for his life, and the succession may ha secured to the young duke of Normandy, with such a present rank in the state as befits the heir of the crown. Even the bitterest enemies of the king must acknowledge, that he is va- liant, generous , and good natured ; his war- mest friends cannot deny, that he has a great deal of rashness and indiscretion. Both may therefore conclude , that he should not be de- prived of the royal authority , but that he ought to be restrained from a further abuse of it ; which can be done by no means , so cer- tain and effectual , as what I propose : for thus is power will be tempered by the pre- sence , the counsels , and influence of Prince Henry \ who from his own interest in the weal B 2 ( 28 ) of the kingdom which he is to inherit , will always have a right to interpose his advice , and even his autority , if it be necessary , against any future violation of our liberties ; and to procure an effectual redress of our grie- vances , which we have hitherto sought in vain. If all the English in both armies unite , as I hope they may , in this plan of pacifica- tion , they will be able to give the law to the foreigners, and oblige both the king and the duke to consent to it. This will secure the public tranquillity , and leave no secret stings of resentment , to rankle in the hearts of a suffering party , and produce future distur- bances. As there will be no triumph , no inso- lence , no exclusive right to favour on either side , there can be no shame , no anger , no uneasy desire of change. It will be the work of the whole nation : and all must wish to support what all have established. The sons of Stephen indeed may endeavour to oppose it : but their efforts will be fruitless and must end very soon , either in their submission , or their ruin. Nor have they any reasonable cause to complain. Their father himself did not co- me to te crown by hereditary right. He was elected in preference to a woman and an in- fant , who were deemed not to be capable of ruling a kingdom. By that election our allegiance is bound to him during his life : but neither that bond , nor the reason for wihch we chose him , will hold, as to the (2 9 ) choise of a successor. Henry Plantagenet is now grown up to an age of maturity, and every way qualified to succeed to the crown. He is the grandson of a king whose memory is dear to us , and the nearest heir male to him in the course of descent : he appears to resemble him in all his good qualities 5 and to be worthy to reign over the Normans and English, whose noblest blood ^ united, enri- ches his veins. Normandy has already sub- mitted to him with pleasure. Why should we now divide that duchy from England, when it is so greatly the interest of our nobility to keep them always connected I If we had no other inducement to make us desire a reconciliation between him and Stephen , this would be suf- ficient. Our estates in both countries will by that means be secured , which otherwise we must forfeit , in the one or the other while Henry remains possessed o Normandy : and it will not be an easy matter to drive him from thence , even though we should compel him to retire from England. But , by amicably com- pounding his quarrel with Stephen , we shall maintain all our interests , private and public* His greatness abroad wii increase the power of his kingdom ; it will make us respectable and formidable to France ; England will be the head of all those ample dominions , which extend from the British ocean to the Fyrenean mountains. By governing , in his youth, so many different states, he will learn to govern B5 ( 3o) us , and come to the crown , after the decease of lung Stephen, accomplished in all the arts ■of good policy. His mother has wllingly re- signed to him her pretensions , or rather she acknowledges that his are superior : we the- refore can have nothing to apprehend on lhat side. In every view , our peace , our safety , the repose of our posterity , will be firmly established by the means I propose. Let Ste- phen continue to wear the crown that we give him , as long as he lives ; but after his death let it descend to that prince , who alone can put an end to our unhappy divisions. If you approve my advice , and will empower me to treat in your names, I will immediately con- vey your desires to the king and the duke. Lyttleton. Eloge de la Vertu. Virtue is of intrinsic value and good de- sert , and of indispensable obligation : not the creature of will , but necessary and im- mutable : not local or temporary , but of equal extendent and antiquity with the divine mind; not a mode of sensation , but everlasting truth ; not dependent on power , but the guide of all power. Virtue is the foundation of honour and esteem , and the source of all beauty , order , and happiness in nature. It is what confers value on all the other endow- ments and qualities of a j easonnable being , (3r ) to which they ought to be absolutely subser- vient , and without which te more eminent they are , the more hideous deformities and the greater curses they become. The use of it is not confined to any one stage of our exis- tence , or to any particular situation we can be in g but reaches through all the periods and circumstances of our being, — Many of the endowments and talents we now possess, and of which we are too apt to be proud , w T ill cease entirely wit the present state ; but this will be our ornament aud dignity in every future state to which we may be re- moved. Beauty and wit will die , learning will vanish away , and all the arts of life be soon forgot; but virtue -will remain for ever* This unites us to the whole rational creation , and fits us for conversing with any order of superior natures , and for a place in any part of God's works. It procures us the approba- tion and love of all wise and good beings , and renders them our allies and friends. — But what is of unspeakably greater consequence is, that it makes God our friend, assimilates and unites our minds to his, and engages his almighty power in our defence* — Superior beings of all ranks are bound by it no less than ourselves. It has the same authority in all worlds that it has in this. The further any being is advanced in excellence and perfec- tion , the greater is his attachment to it , and the more he is under its influence. — To say B 4 ( 32 ) no more ; J Tis the Law of the whole universe; it stands first in the estimation of the Deity ; its original is his nature •> and it his the very object that makes him lovely. Sue his the importance of Virtue. —Of what consequence , therefore , is it that we practise it ! — There is not argument or motive which is at all fitted to influence a reasonable mind, which does not call us to this. One virtuous disposition of soul is preferable tho the grea- test natural accomplishents and abilities , and of more value than ail the treasures of the world. — If you are w r ise , then , study vir- tue , and contemn every thing that can come in competition with it. — Remember , that nothing else deserves one anxious thought or wish. Kemember , that this alone is honour , glory $ wealth, and happiness. Secure this, and you secure every thing. Lose this , and all is lost. ^PmcE. Sur le Bonheur. It was at a time , when a certain friend ; whom I highly value , was my guest. We had been sitting together , entertaining ourselves w r ith Shakespeare. Among many of his cha- racters , we had looked into that of Wolsey. How soon , says my friend , does the Cardinal in disgrace abjure that happiness which he was so lately fond of I Scarcely out of office, but he begins to exclaim , (33) Vain pomp and glory of the world ! I hate ye. So true is it , that our sentimens ever vary with the season ; and that in adversity we are of one mind , in prosperity of another. As for his mean opinion , said I , of human happiness , it is a truth , which small reflec- tion might have taught him long before. There seems little need of distress to inform us of this. I rather commend thee seeming wisdom of that eastern monarch, who, in the af- fluence of prosperity , when he was proving every pleasure, was yet so sensible of their emptiness , their insufficiency to make him happy , that he proclaimed a reward to the man , who sould invent a new delight. The reward indeed was proclaimed , but the de- light was not to be found. If by delight , said he, you mean some good ; something con- ducing to real happiness ; it might have been found perhaps, and yet not hit the monarch's fancy. Is that , said I possible I It is possible , replied he , though it had been the sovereign good itself. And indeed what wonder I Is it probable that such a mortal as an eastern mo- narch - 7 such a pampered , flattered , idle mor- tal , should have attention , or capacity for a subject so delicate I A subject, enough to ex- ercise the subtlest and most accute I What then is it you esteem , said I , the so- vereign good to be I It should seem , by your representation ; to be something very uncom- B 5 (34) mon Ask me not the question , said he, you> know not where it will carry us. Its general idea indeed is easy and plain ; but the detail of particulars is perplexed and long ; passions and opinions for ever thwart us ; a paradox appears in almost every advance. Besides, did our enquiries succeed ever so happily , the very subject itself it atways enough to give me pain. That replied I , seems a paradox indeed. It is not , said he from any prejudice , which I have conceived against it ; for to man I esteem it the noblest in the world. Nor is it for being a subject, to which my genius does not lead me ; for no subject at all times has more employed my attention. But the truth is , I can scarce ever think of it , but an un- lucky story still occurs to my mind. « A cer- »■ tain star-gazer , with his telescope was » once viewing the moon ; and describing $ her seas % her mountains ,. and her territo- » ries. Says a clown to his companion , Let » him spy what he pleases ; we are as near » to the moon as he and all his brethren. i> So fores it , alas ! with these our moral spe- culations. Practice too often creeps, where theory can soar. The philosopher proves as weak , as those whom he most contemns, A mortifying- thought to such as well attend it. Too certifying , replied I , to be long dwelt on. Give us rather your general idea of the sovereign good. This is easy from your own account , however intricate the detail. ( 35) Thus then , said he , since you are so ur- gent , it is thus that I conceive it. The Sove- reign Good is that , the possession of which renders us happy. And how , said I , do we possess it I Is it sensual , or intellectual I There you are entering , said he , upon the detail. This is beyond your question. Not a small advance , said I , to indulge poor curiosity I Will you raise me a thirst , and be so cruel not to allay it I It is not 9 replied he , of my raising, but your own. Besides I am not cer- tain , should I attempt to proceed , whether you will admit such authorities as it is possible I may vouch. That , said I , must be determi- ned by their weight and character. Suppose y said he , it should be mankind ; the whole human race. Would you not think it some- thing strange , to seek of those concerning Good , who pursue it a thousand ways ,. and many of them contradictory I I confess, said I , it seems so. And yet continued he , were there a point, in which suchdissentiments ever agreed , this agreement would be no mean argument in favour of its truth and justness. Buth where , replied I , is this agreement to be found I He answered me by asking , what ifitshoukl appear, that there were certain original cha- racteristics and pre -conceptions of good 3 which were natural , uniform and common to all men j which ail recognized in their va- rious pursuits j. and that the difference lay only £ 6 ( 36 ) in the applying them to particulars I This re- quires , said I, to be illustrated. As if, con- tinued he , a company of travellers , in some wide forest, were all intending for one city , but each by a rout peculiar to himself. The roads indeed would be various , and many perhaps false ; but all who travelled , would have one end in view. It is evident , said I, they would. So fares it then , added he , with mankind in the pursuit of good. The ways indeed are many , but what they seek is one. For instance - 9 Did you ever hear of any , who in pursuit of their good , were for living the life of a bird, an insect , or a fish I None. And why not I It would be inconsistent an- swered I , with their nature. You see then , said he , they all agree in this ; that what they pursue , ought to be consistent, and agre- eable to their proper nature. So ought it , said I, undoubtedly. If so, continued he , one pre- conception is discovered , which is common to good in general : It is . that all good is sup- posed something agreeable to nature. This in- deed , replied I , seems to be agreed on all hands. But again , said he , Is there a man scarcely to be found of a temper so truly mortified , as to acquiesce in the lowest , and shortest ne- cessaries of life I Who aims not , it he be able , at something farther , something bet- ter I I replied scarcely one. Do not multitude pursue, said he , infinite objects of desire f (3 7 ) acknowledged , every one of them , to be 111 no respect necessaries I Exquisite viands , de- licious wines , splendid apparel, curious gar- dens ; magnificient apartments adorned w 7 ith pictures and sculptures ; music and poetry , and the whole tribe of elegant arts I It is evi- dent , said T. If it be so , continued he , it should seem that they all considered the Chief or Sovereign Good , not to be that , which conduces to bare existence or mere being ; for to this the necessaries alone are adequate. I replied they were. But if not this , it must be somewhat conducive to that , which is supe- rior to mere being. It must. And what , con- tinued he , can this be , but well-being , under the various shapes , in which different opi- nions paint it I Or can you suggest any thing else I I replied , I could not. Mark here , then , continued he , another pre - conception , in which they all agree ; the Sovereign good is somewhat conducive , not to mere being , but well-beingr-I replied , it had so appeared. Again , continued he , What labour, what expence , to procure those rarities , which our own poor country is unable to afford us ! How is the world ransacked to its utmost verges , and luxury and arts imported from every quar- ter ! Nay more : How do we baffle nature herself ; invert her order ; seek the vegetables of spring in the rigours of winter , and win- ter's ice during the beats of summer. I replied we did. And what disappointment , >yhat re» (38) morse-, when endeavours fail I It is true. If this then be evident , said he , it would seem , that whatever we desire as our Chief and So- vereign Good , is something which , as far as possible , we would accommodate to all pla- ces and times. I answered , So it appeared. See then , said he , another of its characteris- tics , another pre-conception. But farther still : What contests for wealth!: What scrambling for property ! What perils in the pursuit ! What solicitude in the main- tenance ! And why all this I To what purpose , to what end ? Or is not the reason plain ! Is it not that wealth may continually procure us , whatever we fancy good ; and make that per^ peiual , which would otherwise be transient I I replied , it seemed so. Is it not farther desi- red , as supplying us from ourselves ; fwhem without it , we must be beholden fo the bene- volence of others, and depend on their caprice for all that we enjoy I It is true , said I , this seems a reason. Again j Is not power of every degree as much contested for as wealth? Are not magistracies , honours , principalities , and empire , the sub- jects of strife and everlasting contention 1 1 re- plied , They were. And why , said he , is this I To obtain what end I Is it not to help us like wealth , to the possession of what we desire I Is it not farther to ascertain , to secure our enjoyments j that when others would deprive us , we may be strong enough K> resist them I I replied.,; it was* ( 39 ) Or , to invert the whole ; Why are there , who seek recesses the most distant and reti- red ; flee courts and power , and submit to parsimony and obscurity ? Why all this , but from the same intention I From an opinion that small possessions , used moderately , are permanent : that larger possessions raise envy , and are more frequently invaded. That the sa- fety of power and dignity is more precarious than tbat of retreat ; and that therefore they have chosen , what is most elegible upon the whole I It is not , said I , improbable , that they act by some such motive. Do you not see then , continued he , two or three more pre -conceptions of the Sove- reign Good , which are sought for by all , as essential to constitute it ? And what y said I , are these \ That it should not be transient , nor derived from the will of others , nor in their power to take away ; but be durable, selfderived , and (if I may use the expression) indeprivable. I confess , said I ^ it appears so. But we have adready found it to be conside- red , assomethingagreable to our nature ; con- ducive y not to mere being , but to well-being; and w r hat we aim to have accommodated to all places and times. We have. There may be otber characteristics , said he , but these I think sufficient. See then its idea y behold it, a collected from the original , natu- ral and universal pre-conceptions of all man- kind. The SovexeigaGoodj, they have taught (4o) lis , ought to be something agreeable to our nature ; conducive to welle-being ; accom- modated to all places and times ; durable 7 self-derived , and indepriyable. Vour accunt , said I , appears just. Harris. De la Modestie* Modesty is a polite accomplishment , and generally an attendant upon merit. It is enga- ging to the highest degree , and wins the hearts of all our acquaintance. On the contrary , none are more disgustful in company than the impu- dent and presuming. The man who is , on all occasions , com- mending and speaking well of himself, we naturally dislike. On the other hand , he who studies to conceal his own deserts , who does justice to the merit of others , who talks but little of himself, and that with modesty, ma- kes a favourable impression on the persons he is conversing with, captivates their minds , and gains their esteem. Modesty , however, widely differs from an awkward bashfulness , which is as much to be condemned as the other is to be applauded. To appear simple is as ill-bred as to be impu- dent. A young man ought to be able to come into a a room and address the company , wi- thout the least embarrassment. To be out of countenance when spoken to ; and not to have (4i ) an answer ready , is ridiculous to the last degree. An awkward country fellow , when he comes into company better than himself , is exceedingly disconcerted. He knows not what to do with his hands, or his hat , but either puts one of them in his pocket , and dangles the other by his side ; or perhaps twirls his hat on his fingers , or fumbles with the button. If spoken to , lie is in a much worse situation, he answers with the utmost difficulty , and nearly stammers ; whereas a gentleman, who is acquainted with life , enters a room wiih gracefulness and a modest assurance 9 addres- ses even persons he does not know , in an easy ad natural manner , and without the least em- barassment. This is the characteristic of good breeding , a very necessary knowledge in our intercourse with men : for one of inferior parts , with te behaviour of a gentleman is fre- quently better received than a man of sense, w^ith the address and manners of a clown. Ignorance and vice are the only things we need be ashamed of; steer clear of these , and you may go into any company you will : not that I would have a young man throw off all dread of appearing abroad, as a fear of offend- ing , or being disesteemed , will make him preserve a proper decorum. Some persons , from experiencing the incoveniences of false modesty , have run into the other extreme, and acquired the character of impudent. This (42) 5s as great a fault as the other. A well-bred man keeps himself within the two, and steers the middle vay. He is easy and firm in every company , is modest , but not bashful , steady- but not impudent. He copies the manners of the better people , and conforms to their cus- toms with ease and attention. Till we can present ourselves in all compa- nies with coolnes and unconcern , we can never present ourselves well : nor will a man ever be supposed to have kept good company , or ever be acceptable in such company , if he cannot appear there easy and unembarrassed. A modest assurance , in every part of life , is the most advantageous qualification we can possibly acquire. Instead of* becoming insolent , a man of sense , under a consciousness of merit, is more modest. He Behaves himselfindeed with firm- ness , but without the least presumption. The man who is ignorant of his own merit 9 is no less a fool than he who is constantly dis- playing it. A man of understanding avails himself of his abilities , but never boasts of them 5 whereas the timid and bashfuf can never push himself in life, be his merit as great as it will ; he will be always kept be- hind by the forward and the bustling. A man of abilities , and acquainted with life , will stand as firm in defence of his own rights T and pursue his plan as steadily and unmoved as the most impudent man a-live 2 but then ha ( 43) docs it with a seeming modesty. Thus , man- ner is every thing ; what is impudence in one 9 is proper assurance only in another : for firm- ness is commendable , but an overbearing conduct is disgustful. Forwardness being the very reverse of mo- desty , follow rather than lead the company , that is 9 join in discourse upon their subjects rather than start one of your own : if you have parts , you will have opportunities enough of shewing them on every topic of conversation , and if you have none , it is better to expose yourself upon a subject of other people's than on one of your own. But , be particularly careful not to speak of yourself , if you can help it An impudent fellow lugs in himself abruptly upon all occasions r and is ever the hero of his own story. Others will colour their arrogance with « It may » seem strange indeed , that I should talk in » this manner of myself ; it is what I by no » means like , and should never do , if I had » not been cruelly and unjustly accused ; but » when my character is attacked , it is a jus- » tice I owe to myself to defend it. » This veil is too thin not to be seen through on the first inspection. Others again , with more art, wil modestly boast of all the principal virtues, by calling these virtues weaknesses y and saying , they are so unfortunate as to fall into those weak- nesses. «. I cannot see persons suffer % » says, ( 44) £ one of this cast , without relieving them j $ though my circumstances are very unable » to afford it. » — » I cannot avoid speaking » truth , though it is often very impudent , » and so on. This angling for praise is so prevailing a principle , that it frequently stoops to the lowest objects. Men will often boast of doing that which , if true , wonld be rather a disgrace to them than otherwise. One man affirms that he rode twenty miles within the hour ; 'tis probably a lye ; but suppose he did , what then I He had a good horse under him , and is a good jockey. Another swears he has often at a sitting , drunk five or six bottles to his own share. Out of respect to him , I will be- lieve him a liar j fori would not wish to think him a beast. These and many more are the follies of idle people , which , while they think they procure them esteem , in reality make them despised. To avoid this contempt , therefore , never speak of yourself at all , unless necessity obliges you y and even then 9 take care to do it in such a manner , that it may not be construed into fishing for applause. Whatever perfec- tions you m^\y have , be assured , people will find them out ; but whether they do or not , nobody will take them upon your own word. The less you say of yourself, the more the world will give you credit for ; and the more you say , the less they will believe you. Chesterfield* ( 45) De la bonne Education. Void of good-breeding , every other qualifi- cation will be imperfect , unadorned , and to a certain degree unavailing. Good-breeding being the result of good sense and good nature , is it not wonderful that peo- ple possessed of the one , should , be deficient in the other I The modes of it , varying ac- cording to persons , places , and circumstan- ces , cannot indeed be acquired otherwise than by time and observation , but the subs- tance is every where and always the same. What good morals are to society in general, good manners are to particular ones ' y their band and security. Of all actions , next to that of performing a good one , the consciousness of rendering a civility is the most grateful. We seldom see a person , let him be ever so illbred , wanting in respect to those whom he acknowledges to be his superiors ; the man- ner of shewing this respect , then , is all I contend for. The well-bred man expresses it naturally and easily , while he who is unused to good company expresses it awkwardly. Study then , to shew that respect which every one vvishes to shew, in an easy and graceful way : but this must be learnt by observation. In company with your equals , or in mixed companies , a greater latitude may be taken in your behaviour : yet , it should never exceed ( 46) the bounds of decency ; for, though no one in this case , can claim any distinguished marks of respect, every one is entitled to civility and good manners. A man need not , for example , fear to put his hands in his pockets , take snuff , sit , stand , or occasionally walk about the room ; but it would be highly un beco- ming to whistle , wear his hat , loosen his garters , or throw himsolf accross the chairs. Such liberties are offensive tu our equals , and insulting to our inferiors. Easiness of carriage by no means implies inattention ad careless- ness. No one is at liberty to act , in all res- pects , as he pleases ; but is bound by the laws of good manners ; to behave with de- corum. Let a man talk to you ever so stupidly or frivolously , not to pay some attention to what he says , is savageness to the greatest degree. Nay , if he even forces his conversation to you , it is worse than rudeness not to listen to him - 7 for your inattention in this case , tells him , in express terms , that you think him a blockhead, and not worth the hearing. Now, if such behaviour is rude to men , it is much more so to women , who , be their rank what it will , have on account of their sex, a claim to officious attention from the men. Their little wants and whims , their likes and dis- likes , and even their impertinences , are par- ticularly attended to and flattered , and their very thoughts and wishes guessed at and in- (47) stantly gratified by every well-bred man* In promiscuous companies you should vary your address , agreeable to the different ages of the persons you speak to. It would be rude and absurd to talk of your amours or your plea- sures to men of certain dignity and gravity , to clergymen , or men in years ; but still you should be as easy with them as with others , your manner only should be varied; you should , if possible , double your respect and attention to them ; and were you to insinuate occasio- nally , that from their observation and expe- rience you wish to profit , you would insensi- bly win their esteem ; for flattery , if not ful. some and gross , is agreeable to all. When invited to dinner or supper , 'you must never usurp to yourself the best places 9 the best dishes , etc. but always decline them , and offer them to others , except , indeed , you are offered any thing by a superior , when it would be a rudeness , if you liked it , not to accept it immediately , without the least apology. Thus 5 for example , was a superior , the master of the table, to offer you a thing of which there was but one , to pass it to the person next you, would be indirectly charging him that offered it to you , with a want of good manners and proper respect to his com- pany j or, if you were the only stranger present , it would be a rudeness if you made a feint of refusing it with the customary a pology , « I cannot think of taking it from ( 48 ) « you , sir , » or , « I am sorry to deprive you of it -> » as it is supposed he is conscious of his own rank , and if he chose not to give it, would not have offered it ; your apology the- refore , in this case , is putting him upon an equality with yourself. In like manner , it is rudeness to draw back when requested by a superior to pass a door first , or to step into a carriage before him. In short, it would be endless to particularise all the instances in which a well-bred man shews his politeness in good company , such as not yawning , singing , whistling , warming his breech at the fire , lounging , putting his legs upon the chairs and the like , familiarities every man's good sense must condemn , and goodbreeding abhor. But, good breeding consists in more than merely not being ill-bred. To return a bow , speak when you are spoken to, and say nothing rude , are such negative acts of good-bree- ding , that they are little more than not being a brute. Would it not be a very poor commen- dation of any man's cleanliness, to say, that he was not offensive I If we wish for the good will and esteem of our acquaintance , our good-breeding must be active , chearful , officious and seducing. For example, should you invite any one to dine or sup with you , recollect whether ever you had observed them to prefer one thing to another 7 and endeavour to procure that thing j \yh-n (49 ) when at table , say , « At such a time » think you seemed » to give this dish a prefe- » rence , I therefore ordered it. » « This is the » wine I obserded you best like , 1 have the- » refore been at some pains to procure it. » Trifling as these things may appear , they prove an attention to the person thev are said to ; and as attention in trifles is the test of respect, the compliment will not be lost. I need only refer you to your own breast. How have these little attentions , when shewn you by others, flattered that self-love which no man is free from I They incline and attach us to that person , and prejudice us afterwards to all that he says or does. The declaration of the women in a great degree stamps a man's reputation of being either ill or well-bred ; you must then, in a manner, overwhelm them with these attentions ; they are used to them 7 and naturally expect them , and to do them justice , they are seldom lost upon them. You must be sedulous to wait upon them , pick up with alacrity any thing they drop , and be very officious in procuring their carriages or their chairs in public places; be blind to what you should not see, and deaf to what you should not hear. Opportunities of shewing these attentions are continually presenting themselves ; but in case they should not , you must study to create them. If ever you would be esteemed by the women , your conversation to them should C (5o) be always respectful , lively , and addressed to their vanity. Every thing you say or do , should tend to shew a regard to their beauty or good sense : even men are not without their vanities of one kind or other , and flattering that vanity by words and looks of approbation, is one of the principal characters of good- breeding. It has , for a length of time , been custo- mary to salute the ladies upon a first intro- duction to them ; but these liberties having occasioned at times a great deal of unhappi- ness, the custom is dropped in polite compa- nies , and a wellbredman now never attempts it. He introduces himself only with a distant bow. Address and manners , with weak persons , who are actually three-fourths of the world , are every thing ; and even people of the best understanding are taken in with them. Where the heart is not won and the eye pleased , the mind will be seldom on our side* In short , learning and erudition , without good-breeding is tiresome and pedantic; and an ill-bred man is as unfit for good company as he will be unwelcome in it. Nay , he is full as unfit for business as for company. Make , then , good-breeding the great object of your thoughts and actions. Be particularly observant of, and endeavour to imitate, the behaviour and manners of such as are distin- guished by their politeness ; and be persuaded, <5i ) that good-breeding is to all worldly qualifica- tions , what charity is to all christian virtues : it adorns merit , and often covers the want of it. ChertefxField, De la proprete* But , as no one can please in company , however graceful his air * unless he be clean and neat in his person, this qualification conies next to be considered. Negligence of one's person not only implies an unsufferable indolence, but an indifference whether we please or not. In others, it betrays an insolence and affectation , arising from a presumption that they are sure of pleasing , without having recourse to those means which many are obliged to use. He who is not thoroughly clean in his person, will be offensive to all he converses with. A particular regard to the cleanness of your mouth , teeth , hands and nails , is but com- mon decency. A foul mouth and unclean hands , are certain marks of vulgarity ; the first is the cause of an offensive breath, which nobody can bear , and the last it declarative of dirty work ; one may always know a gentleman by the state of his hands ami nails, The flesh at the roots should be kep! back 9 so as to shew the semicircles at the bott >m of the nails ; the edges of the nails shoud never be cut down bulow the ends of the fin- C 2 (52) gers , nor should they be suffered to grow lon- ger than the fingers. When the nails are cut down to the quick , it is a shrewd sign that the man is a mechanic, to whom long nails would be troublesome , or that he gets his bread by fiddling j and if they are longer than his fingers ends , and encircled with a black rim , it foretells he has been laboriously and meanly employed , and too fatigued to clean himsels : a good apology for want of cleanliness in a mechanic , but the greatest disgrace that can attend a gentleman. These things may appear too insignificant to be mentioned ; but when it is considered that a thousand little nameless things , which every one feels but no one can describe , cons- pire to form that whole of pleasing , I hope you with not call them trifling. Besides , a clean shirt and a clean person are as neces- sary to health , as not to offend other people. It is a maxim with me , which I have lived to see verified , that he who is negligent at twenty years of age will be a sloven at forty, and intolerable at fifty. Chesterfield, De l' elegance de V expression. Having mentionned elegance of person , I will proceed to elegance of expression. It is not one or two qualifications alone that will complete the gentleman : it must be an union of many : and graceful speaking is as ( 30 ) essential as gracefulness of person. Every man cannot be an harmonious speaker ; a i ough- ness or coarsness of voice may prevent it ; but if there ar no natural imperfections , if a man does not stammer or lisp, or has not lost his teeth , he may speak gracefully ; nor will all these defects, if he has a mind to it , prevent him from speaking correctly. Nobody can attend with pleasure to a bad speaker. One who tells his story ill be it ever so important , will tire even the most patient. If you have been present at the performance of a good tragedy , you have doubtless been sensible of the good effects of a speech well delivered ; how much it has interested and affected you : and on the contrary, how much an ill-spoken one has disgusted you. 'Tis the seimein common conversation : he who speaks deliberately , distinctly and correctly ; he who makes use of the best words to express him- self, and varies his voice according to the nature of the subject , will always please => while the thick or hasty speaker , he who mumbles out a set of ill-chosen words , utters them ingrammatically , or with a dull monc= tony , will tire and disgust. Be assured then , the air , the gesture , and the looks of a spea- ker , a proper accent , a just emphasis and tuneful cadence , are full as necessary to please and to be attended to , as the subject matter itself. People may talk what they will of solid Co ( 54 ) reasoning and sound sense ; without the graces and ornaments of language they will neither please nor persuade. In common discurse , even trifles elegantly expressed will be better received than the best of arguments , homes- pun and unadorned- A good way to acquire a graceful utterance , is to read aloud to some friend every day , and beg of him to set you right , ki case you read too fast , do not observe the proper stops , lay wrong emphasis , or utter your words indistinctly. You may even read aloud to yourself, where such a friend is not at hand, and you will find your own ear a good cor- rector. Take care to open your teeth when vou read or speak , and articulate every word distinctly j which last cannot be done , but by sounding the final letter. But above all , en- deavour to vary your voice , according to the matter , and avoid a monotony. By a daily attention to this , it will in a little time , be- come easy and habitual to you. Pay an attention also to your looks and your gesture , when talking even on the most trifling subjects : things appear very different according as they are expressed , looked and delivered. Now , if it is necessary to attend so particu- larly to our manner of speaking , it is much more so , with respect to the matter. Fine turns of expressions , a genteel and correct style, are ornaments as requisite to commoa ( ^ ) sense , as polite behaviour and an elegant ad- dress are to common good manners ; they are great assistants in the point of pleasing. A gentleman, 'tis true , may be known in the meanest garb , but it admits not of a doubt , that he would be better received into good company genteely and fashionably dressed , than was he to appear in dirt and tatters. Be careful then of your style upon all oc- casions ; whether you write or speak ? study for the best words and best expressions*, even in common conversation or the most familiar letters. This win prevent your speaking in a hurry , than which nothing is more vulgar ; though you may be a little embarrassed at first , time and nse will render it easy. It is no such difficult thing to express ourselves well on subjects we are thoroughly acquainted W 7 ith , if w r e think before w^e speak ; and no one should presume to do otherwise. When you have said a thing , if you did not reflect before , be sure to do it afterwards , consider with yourself , whether you could not have expressed yourself better , and if you are in doubt of the propriety or elegancy of any word , search for it in some dictionary (i) , or some good author , while you remember it ; never be sparing of your trouble while (1) Jonkscn's Folio Dictionary you will find very servi- ceable , and the Difference between words reputed syno* nimous ; a work in two volumes , written by me some years ago ; and published by Dodsley. C4 ( 56) you would wish to improve , and my word for it, a very little time will make this matter habitual. la order to speak grammatically and to ehpress yourself pleasingly , I would recom- mend it to you to translate often any language you are acquainted with into English , and to correct such translation till the words , their order , and the periods , are agreable to your own ear. Vulgarism in language is another distin- guishing mark of bad company and education. Expressions may be correct in themselves and yet be vulgar, owing to their not being fas- hionable ; for language as manners are both established for the usage of people of fashion. The conversation of a low - bred man , is filled up with proverbs and hackneyed sayings. Instead of observing that tastes are different , and that most men have one peculiar to them- selves , he will give you « What is one man's meat is another man's poison ; » or « Every one to their liking , as the old woman said , when she kissed her cow. » He has ever some favourite word , which he lugs in upon all occasions , right or wrong , such as vastly angry , vastly kind ; devilish ugly ; devilish handsome ; immensely little. Even his pro- nunciation carries the mark of vulgarity along with it j he calls the earth yearth; finan'ces, finances ; he goes to wards and not towards such a place. He affects to use hard words > (5 7 ) to give him tlie appearance of a man of lear- ning, but frequently mistakes their meaning, and seldom , if ever , pronounces them pro- perly. All this must be avoided 9 if you would not be supposed to have kept company with foot- men and housemaids. Never have recourse to proverbial or vulgar sayings ; use neither fa- vourite nor hard words , but seek for the most elegant ; be careful in the management of them , and depend on it your labour will not be lost ; for nothing is more engaging than a fashionable and polite address. Chesterfield, Du choix do la societe. Teh next thing to the choice of friends is the choice of your company. Endeavour , as much as you can , to keep good company , and the company of your superiors : for you will be held in estimation according to the company you keep. By supe- riors , I do not mean so much with regard to birth , as merit , and 'the light in which they are considered by the world. There are tw r o sorts of good company, the one consists of persons of birth , rank , and fashion; the other, of those who are distin- guished by some peculiar merit, in any libe- ral art or science ; as men oi letters ?i etc* and a mixture of these is what 1 would have un- C 5 ( ^ ) derstood by good company : fort it is not what particular sets of people shall call themselves, but what the people in general acknowledge to be so, and are the accredited good company ©f the place. Now and then persons without either birth, rank , or character , wiR creep into good com- pany , under the protection of some conside- rable personage; but, in general, none are admitted of mean degree, or infamous moral character. In this fashionable good company alone , can you learn the best manners and the best language ; for, as there is no legal standard to form them by , 'tis here they are established. It may possibly be questioned, whether a man has it always in his power to get into good company ; undoubtedly , by deserving it, he has ; provided he is in circumstances which enable him to live and appear in the style of a gentleman. Knowledge , modesty and good breeding , will endear him to all that see him $ for without politeness, the scholar is no bet- ter than a pedant , the philosopher than a cynic , the soldier than a brute , nor any man than a clown. Though the company of men of learning and genius is highly to be valued and occasio- nally coveted , I would by no means have you always found in such company. As they do not live in the world , they cannot have that easy manner and address which I would <5 9 ) wish you to acquire, If you can bear a part in such company , it is certainly adviseable to be iu it sometimes , and you will be the more esteemed in other company by being so; but let it not engross you , lest you be considered as one of the literati , which however res- pectable in name, is not the way to rise or shine in the fashionable world. But the company which , of all others, you should carefully avoid , is that , which , in every sense of the word , may be called low : low in birth , low in rank , low in parts , and low in manners; that company, who , insignificant and contemptible in themselves, think it an honour to be seen with j-ow, and who will flatter you with them. Though you may think such a caution un- necessary, I do not i for many a young gent- leman of sense and rank, has been led by his vanity to keep such company , till he has been degraded, vilified and undone. The vanity I mean , is that of being the first of the company. This pride , tho' too com- mon, is idle to the last degree. Nothing in the world lets a man down so much. Fort the sake of dictating , be'ng applauded and admi- red by this low company , he is disgraced and disqualified for better. Depend upon it , in the estimation of mankind , jou will sink or rise to the level of the company you keep. Be it then your ambition to get into the best company ; and , when there , imitate their C6 ( 6o ) virtues, but not their vices. You have, no doubt , often heard of genteel and fashiona- ble vices. These are, drinking , gaming etc It has happened that some men , even with these vices , have been admired and estee- med. Understand this matter rightly , it is not their vices for which they are admired ; but for some accomplishments they at tne same time possess;. for. their parts, their learning, or their good-breeding. Be assured, were they free from their vices , they woafd be much more esteemed. In these mixed characters r the bad. part is overlooked , fort the sake o£ the good. Should you be unfortunate enough to have any vices of your own , add not to their num- ber by adopting the vices of others. Vices of adoption are of all others the most unpardo- nable , for they have not inadvertency to plead* If people had no vices but their own, few would have so many as they have. Imitate, then, only the perfections you meet with;, copy the politeness, the address, the easy manners of well-bred people ; and remember , let them shine ever so bright , if they have any vices , they are so many ble- mishes ,. which it would be as ridiculous to imitate, as it w T ould to make an artificial* wart upon one's face , because some very handsome man had the misfortune te have a natural one upon his* Chesterfield* ( Si ) Du Commerce et des* Arts (i). The materials which men are concerned to provide may be referred to five general titles, the means of safety , subsistence , accommo- dation , and ornament. These considerations lead to the practice oi many arts , which are more or less successful in proportion as they are multiplied, separa- ted , and complete. They also suggest the advantages of pro- perty and wealth. The consideration of safety leads to the invention of arms, and places of retreat. The earliest weapons appear to have been the club , the sling , and the bow : To these' succeeded T in process of time , the spear and the sword , joined to the buckler or shield; Fire-arms , cannon , and then musketry. The desire of retreats has given rise to the' art of fortification-, The art of war , in every age , must be accommodated to the species of arms , engi- nes , and methods of fortification hi use. The arts which men practise for subsistence are, fishing, hunting , pasturage , and agri- culture. Nations that know least of the means oi subsistence , not finding enough in the spouts (i) Hanis en Cains, (62) neous growth of the earth , have recourse to hunting and fishing. In the result of these arts, the hunting- ground , the lake , the river , or the bay , may be appropriated to the society ; but the game is seldom appropriated to the individual. Nations that have observed the method and the advantage of. breeding herds , betake themselves to pasturage. They, at first , generally migrate , or wan- der with their herds. The individual acquires an immediate pro- perty in cattle , but not in land. Nations that are acquainted with the use of herbs , fruits , and grain , which do not grow spontaneously , or do not grow in sufficient quantities , betake themselves to agriculture. The culture of land , to a certain degree, may precede property , as it did among the ancient Germans (i) , and among the nations of North America. Agriculture , where the object is the tem- porary produce of land , is compatible with migration : Where the object is the improve- ment of soil , and perpetual fertility, agricul- ture requires settlement , and the property of land. As the property of land excites to inven- tion in agriculture , it likewise excites to in- vention in other arts. (i) Vide Cassar , lib. 4 , cap. i j and lib, 6 , cap. 22, Charlevoix's History cf Canada. (63) They who have no land , betake themsel- ves to manufacture , that they may have whe- rewith to buy the produce of land. By manufacture , men are furnished with the means of accommodation and ornament. The means of accommodation are , clothes^ houses , furniture , utensils , equipage. Men , in different ages, are unequally fur- nished with these articles ; they even subsist without them j but, in the ruder climates; under such inconveniencies, as diminish the numbers of the species , or prevent their increase. The Means of decoration are such things as please the fancy , without being necessary or useful. Men , in all ages , are fond of decoration ; they combine ornament with the means of subsistence and accommodation; but they may subsist, and enjoy every conveniency, wiihout regard to ornament. Ornaments are principally made of rare materials ; as gems, precious metals, etc. Iliches consist in the abundance of things that conduce to safety, subsistence, accommo- dation , and ornament. Riches are the result of arts and industry. Whatever ingenuity men exert in the prac- tice of arts, their success will depend on a proper distribution of their employments , and on their making a separate business of each. In making this distribution ; the parlies trust (64) that they may be able to exchange what they have to spare for what they want. The progress of arts , as well as the casual distribution of commodities , depending, on situation, climate, and soil , render commerce expedient , or even necessary. Commerce , in the simplest form, consissts of. barter, without any standard of valuation , or medium of exchange : Each party gives what he has to spare of one kind , for what he wants of another. To extend trade , money , communication $ and the interposition of merchants, are requi- red, The first money, or medium of exchange, was generally some staple commodity, as corn , cattle , etc. These were things of uncertain value, of inconvenient bulk , perishing or expensive in the keeping , and not easily divided , without making a change of value. To avoid these several inconveniencies, the precious metals have been admitted in every trading nation as the medium of exchange. They are , for the greater conveniency , employed in the form of coin. The pound , or other ascertained weight or quantity of the precious metals, was employed as the standard of valuation. The coin of all nations has undergone con- siderable changes > both in respect to fineness' and weight* (63) The present standard for silver in England is n oz. 2 dw. fine , to i8 dw. allay. For gold , 22 carats fine , to 2 carats allay. The pound of standard silver is cut into 62 shillings. That of gold, into i\i\ guineas. The pound of silver was originally cut into 20 shillings : Hence 20 shillings are still the nominal pound in money. In the reign of Edward VI. the standard of silver was greatly debased, and the coin great- ly diminished. The standard consisted of three parts of fine to nine of allay ; and the pound of this debased metal was cut into 72 shillings. The standard and weight of the coin have, since the reign of Elizabeth , remained the same. Operations on the coin embarrass trade <, by perplexing transactions , and by alarming the interest of debtors and creditors, If, in debasing coin, the interest of the creditor is not guarded , he must be defrauded, In raising the value of the coin , the debtor would be defrauded. Most operations on coin have been of the former kind. The use of coin , and actual payments in money, are not necessary in every commer- cial transaction. In the transfer of great sums, even the pre- cious metals would be cumbersome and in- convenient (66) To avoid this inconvenience, the practice of circulating bills has been adopted. This practice is founded in credit, and tends to extend it. Commerce employs a number of separate professions ; the manufacturer , the factor , the carrier , the merchant , the retailer. The price of commodities in trade is as their scarcity combined with their demand. Articles, in the production of which, labour time, and skill, are required, continue to multiply , while the price is sufficient to maintain the labourer during the time he is em- ployed , to reimburse his apprenticeship, and other expenses , and to furnish an adequate reward. When the price falls below this meafure , the manufacture is discontinued , until the scarcity brings up the price. Feuguson. De Vinegalite des rangs. Men are diversified , in respect to their per- gonal qualities and conditions. The distinction of personal qualities arises from unequal strength and capacity, unequal knowledge, resolution , and courage, unlike dispositions of benevolence or malice. These differences constitute either relations of dependence and power , or comparative degrees of estimation. The strong 3 the knowing , the brave , are (6?) powerful ; the weak , the ignorant , the fear- ful , are dependent. The benevolent are beloved ; the malicious are detestet. The knowing, the generous , and the brave, are esteemed ; the ignorant , the ungenerous , and the cowardly , are contemned : and all the qualities of human nature being referred to the predicaments of excellence and defect , one man is held to be more , another less worthy. Men differ in their predilection of qualities considered as the constituents of excellence. They prefer qualities the most necessary in their own situations , and the most eminent in their own way. In dangerous situations, and in warlike ages , ihey chiefly admire valor. In learned societies, they admire know- ledge and ingenuity. In trading nations , they admire industry f punctuality , and fair dealing. But there being some circumstances com- mon in the situation and disposition of all mankind , such as , their being united in so- ciety , and concerned in what relates to their fellow-creatures; men universally admire qua- lities which constitute or procure the good of mankind; as, wisdom , justice, courage, and temperance. Snch qualities are generally comprehended under the title of Virtue ; Opposite qualities, under the title of Vice* (68) The external conditions of men are some- times confounded with personal qualities , and appear to have the same effects. The rich are powerful , the poor are de- pendent. Riches and birth , even equipage and dress, are admired. The reverse of these exposes to contempt or neglect* Disparities are found in every state of so- ciety ; they are greatest where riches , power, and education , are most unequally distributed. Flkguson. De Dieu. The characters of men are variously formed Upon their predilection for pleasure , honour , or profit; and disputes have arisen in th© schools of philosophy concerning the prefer- ence to be given to one or other of these, in erecting a system. In stating the object of this controversy , we may assume , that men must owe their measure of happiness either to the gratification of natural desire ; to the quality of their natu- ral powers; or to both these united. This assumption will enable us to comprise every doctrine on the subject of happiness , under what was thaught by the Epicureans , the Peripatetics , or the Stoics. The Epicureans supposed the supreme good to consist in the enjoyement of what we are by nature led to desire; and, as desire origi- (e 9 ) nates in the sense of pleasure , they contended for pleasure as the supreme or sole good, and the measure by which the value of excellence itself was to be estimated. Thinking independence , however , neces- sary to the completion of happiness , they sup- posed the perfect man capable of enjoying his pleasure not only in the absence of every ex- ternal cause , but in the midst of circumstan- ces of a contrary effect. The Academy , and , after them , the Peri- patetic School , distinguished excellence from pleasure , and gave to the first a superior place in the scale or estimate of things good. They observed, that all desire does not originate in the sense of pleasure. That there are various propensities of na- ture , prior to the experience of pleasure or pain. Such are the propensities of every animal to the use of his organs : The propensity of man to the use of his faculties. The natural affection of parents to their children. Love and confidence , founded in sympathy or conceptions of merit. Ambition and elevation of mind , founded in the conception of excellence and worth. They observed , that, to these, or some of them separately , we are willing , on many occasions , to sacrifice every consideration of (7°) pleasure or profit , and to incur every circum- stance of pain or loss. They maintained also, that the measure of happiness which men attain, is not to be esti- mated from the degree in which they possess or enjoy the objects of desire; but more from the part they take , or from the conduct they hold in this active scene , where so many af- fairs and transactions arise in pursuing the objects of original desire ; but where the con- duct of the person acting is nevertheless4he principal consideration. In just conduct , the virtue or supreme ex- cellence of a man consists ; and in this also consists the supreme good to which he ought to aspire. That j, although human life is put in motion Jby the spring of certain original desires , yet , that the motion itself is of more importance than the moving power which gave rise to it. Wisdom is of more value than the external advantage secured by it. Benevolence is of more value than the be- nefit conferred by it. And, in general, that, wherever man is the instrument employed for the attainment of external ends , the means are of more value than the end. They did not, however, venture to assert that the end was indifferent, or that ihe life of a virtuous man might be equally happy in adversity and in prosperity. (71 ) They were contented with giving to virtue the highest place in the scale of happiness; and they supposed it to be so much above that of every other good , whether of pleasure or profit, that the highest measures of these were never to be put in competition with the obli- gations of integrity and justice , even in mat- ters of the smallest importance* The Stoics concurred with the Peripatetics in the principal parts of this argument* They distinguishe between the occasion on which a man acted , and the action itself. The first might be , and actually was frequently of a trivial nature , while the action was of great importance. This they farther explained, and urged more forcibly than the Peripatetics had done. They maintained , that good and evil con° sisted altogether in the part which a man ac- ted , not in the circumstances in which he w T as placed. In their controversy with the Peripatetics , they laid hold of the concessions made by the latter , in respect to the preference due to any consideration of justice before the highest con- siderations of pleasure or profit ; and main- tained , that it was absurd to state , under the Same denominations of good and evil , things in their nature so different , that the highest consideration of one kind could not be brought in competition with the lowest of the other. That this was not merely in words, to ( 72 ) confound tilings together, winch ought to be stated apart ; but to countenance hesitation and irresolution , when sacrifices of pleasure or interest were to be made to considerations of justice and duty. They observed , that , as the people are often missed by the inaccuracy of their own expressions , it is no inconsiderable object of philosophy to correct this defect , and to teach men to call nothing* good but that which is to be chosen at all times, and without any ex- ception whatever , and 110J: to indulge them in the error of confounding , under the same appellations , things contingent with things which are in their own power, and for which* they are responsible. They observed , that it was absurd in the Peripatetics , who acknowledged the supreme excellence of the virtues , among which mag- nanimity and fortitude had a principal place, nevertheless to suppose that happiness would be more complete if there were no occasion to call forth or to exercise these virtues. It appeared absurd to state , under the same denomination of good, the wealth which the miser coveted, and the contempt of that w r ealth which the liberal sometimes expressed , and always maintained when proper. For these reasons , the Stoics limited the appellations of good and evil to virtue and vice alone. Their system , in the common acceptation of (73) of words , seemed to be made up of paradox. Pain was no evil ; pleasure was no good j all external events , whether prosperous or ad- verse , were indifferent : But this , in their language, meant no more than that there was no moral turpitude in pain , no moral ex- cellence in pleasure ; that virtue might be practised equally in all events , whether pros- perous or adverse. When the occasion did not require a diffe- rent choice , pleasure vvas to be preferred to pain , and prosperity to adversity ; that , as pleasure was often to be rejected , and pain to be embraced, it was absurd to call that good which it was good to reject , or evil » which it was an evil to avoid. There was, in the proper or improper use of w r hat befel us , a real good or evil ; but this good was to be found in adversity , as well as prosperity , and the evil no less in prosperity than in ad- versity. Thus we may conceive , that the Epicureans made happiness to consist in the objects of their pursuit, or in the enjoyment of them. That the Stoics placed it in the proper choice of their pursuits ; and in the integrity and wifdom of their conduct ; whilst the Peri- patetics required both to complete the idea of happiness , or the supreme good. There were other schools, whose language differed from that of the sects we have men- tioned 9 but who , in respect to the effect or D (74) tendency of their systems , might be involved with one or other of these, In general , it may be affirmed, that every sect acknowledged the necessity of virtue , or allowed, that, in every well directed pursuit of happiness , the strictest regard to morality was required. The Stoics alone maintained that this regard itself was happiness , or that , to run the course of an active, strenuous, wise , and beneficent mind , was itself the very good which we ought to pursue. Ferguson. Si Vestime doit elre consideree comme une chose tres - importante dans la vie hu- maine. It is a maxim allowed in some instances , that we ought not to dispute about tastes ; but this , in every case, is certainly not true. We are by nature qualified to distinguish tastes themselves , as worthy and unworthy , as well as to distinguish other objects by means of our tastes. We think meanly of ourselves for the plea- sures we take , or the pains we shun ; and we think well of ourselves for the pleasures we forego , or the pains we endure. The feeling of the present moment, unsup- ported by experience of its effects, unjustified by any judgement of its value , and unwar- ranted by observation of what passes in human (75) life , is a very uncertain , fleeting , and falla- cious standard of es.imation. To chuse well , we ought to consider not only what is at present agreeable , but what occupies the mind most intensely, what occu- pies most continually, and what is the most permanent subject of satisfaction and esteem. By this test the several articles of reputed good and evil may be safely examined and estimated. Animal enjoyments are occasional and tran- sitory j they pall on the sense , or must wait the returns of appetite. They occupy , therefore , but a small por- tion of human life. Sensuality, or the attempt to render them continual , impairs the power of enjoyment « and the faculties of life mind. Sensuality is a distemper of the imagination^ of which the languors or disgusts need to be remedied by a mixture of rational amusements and pastimes* The sense of animal pleasure seems destined to excite to action , and to direct man to what is salutary, but not to constitute the enjoy- ment of human life. Bodily pain is occasional but not always transient. It appears destined to direct men in shun- ning what is pernicious. It is prolonged to a greater measure than any bodily- pleasure, and sometimes actually ends only in death, D2 (76) Suitably to its final cause , the pain remains while the attack on animal life continues ; and it increases as the danger approaches. In human life , for the most part , bodily pains are but slightly experienced, and are not the evil which we have most to fear. The continued enjoyments of men in hu- man life , arise from their active engagements, their affections , joys , and hopes. Their continued sufferings arise from ill temper, envy, jealousy, malice, and cowar- dice. Men are best amused with exercices that engage them most , that awaken their affec- tions , and occupy their talents. For this reason the more serious and urgent occupations are to be preferred to the more flight and apparently pleasant. Men of business have more enjoyment than men of dissipation. The reverse of amusement is inoccupation and languor. Affections are pleasant , in proportion as they are ardent , diffused . and extensive. Malice is painful , in proportion as it is diffused , rancorous , and implacable. Joy and hope are intense and permanent, in proportion as they are founded in just opinions of things. False opinions lead to transient joy and to disappointment. Grief, and fear, and disappointment, are ( 77 ) most frequent where men most mistake the moment or value of things. Vehement affection , active engagement, or passion , suspend the sense of bodily pleasure or pain. Intellectual enjoyments , in general , are preferable to the animal , as they may be rendered continual , or occupy the greater part of human life. . It appears , upon the whole , that serious engagements , benevolent affections , and just opinions , are the preferable source of enjoy- ments in human life. It has been observed , that one of the strongest propensities in human nature is am- bition , that which tends to perfection, or the bettering ourselves. The phenomena of this propensity are mir xed ; its abuses , emulation , pride , and va- nity , are mixed with moral approbation , magnanimity, and elevation of mind. Under the influence of this propensity , men forego any pleasure, or incur any pain. Benevolence, or the love of mankind, is the greatest perfection ; it is likewise the source of greatest enjoyment. Wisdom, or a just estimation of things, is the best security against disappointment , des- pair , and all the wretched passions. Temperance is the proper use of enjoy- ments of every sort. Fortitude is an antidote to dejection and D 5 (73) sear ; the best security in danger, and the best alleviation of unavoidable sufferings. The higher animal pleasure is rated , the more temperance, or the proper use of them , must be valued. The more bodily pain appears formidable , the more fortitude , that enables men , with presence of mind , to avoid , or with patience to endure it , is to be valued. The greatest defects, as well as sufferings, of men , are malice and cowardice , or result from intemperance and folly. In human nature , therefore , the most eligible enjoyments, and the state of least suf- fering , coincides with the most excellent state of the character. Prosperity is actually valued , on account of its supposed tendency to constitute enjoy- ment , or to better our state. Health enables us to attain to the preferable enjoyments and accomplishments of human life , but is not an absolute security for either* The proper use of health is good , the abuse is evil. Good education is calculated to promote good dispositions , and to bestow valuable accomplishments. Neglect has an opposite tendency. But neither the best nor the worst educa- tion necessarily produce any precise effect. Security or liberty is best attained under wise political establishments. It is the resuU ( 79 ) of justice , and tends to promote the love of mankind. This effect,, and all the proper uses of liberty, are good. The abuse is evil. Thraldom is, in all respects, the reverse of freedom or secuiil y. Competency of fortune is sufficient to all the purposes of animal life. Increase of wealth does not proportionally increase enjoyment. It often leads to sensuality , dissipation , sloth , pride , and disdain. Man is formed for mixed fortune ; difficul- ties and dangers call forth powers , in the exercise of which his greatest perfections and his greatest enjoyments consist ( i ). Mere life is to him an opportunity to avail himself of the good , while it exposes him likewise to incur the evil , of which his na- ture is susceptible. The proper use of life is good , the abuse of it is evil. The value of prosperity , in general , de- pends on the proper use of advantages. (f) Henry IV, says the president Henault, was among the best and the greatest of our Kings. He met with that which forms great men , and makes tern known , diffi- culties to be surmounted 3 dangers to be encountered ; and , above all, adversaries who were worthy of him, as re- quiring the full exertion of ail his abilities (*}. C*) Abrege de i'Histoire de France, fin du regue de Henri IV. D 4 ( ' 8o ) The proper use of things is a perfection of human nature. The desire of perfection , therefore , well understood , appears to be the surest guide to enjoyment 9 and to all the advantages of pros- perity. Ail our enjoyments , besides those of sense , arise from our having some poursuit or affec- tion , to which pleasure is not the object , but an accession. Thus the pleasures of hunting arise from eagernefs to seize the prey ; the pleasures of occupation arise from the ardor with which we pursue our object , the plea- sures of affection arise from the regard we have for other men y and the pleasure of good actions arises from the esteem of virtue. If pleasure be our s^le object , we must forego it in all those instances. The measure of good which any one pos« sesses is to be estimated from his personal cha- racter , not from his circumstances , or ex- ternal means of enjoyment. In the different denominations of good and evil , it appears that virtue and vice are of the greatest moment. The first is itself the greatest advantage , the securest possession , and that which ena- bles men best to employ all other advantage , and all other possessions. The second is wretched in itself, and turns every other circumstance in a curse. Ferguson ( 8i ) Naissance et education de Gil Bias. My father , Bias of Santillane , after having carried arms many years in the service of the Spanish monarchy, retired to the town in which he was born , where he chose a wife among the second-rate citizens ; who 9 though she was no chicken , brought me into the w T orld ten months after her marriage. They afterwards removed to Oviedo , where my mother became a waiting- woman, and my father squire (escudero) to a lady ; and as they had nothing but their wages to depend upon . I should have run the hazard of being very poorly educated , had it not been my good fortune to have a canon for my uncle , whose name was Gil Perez : he was my mother's eldest brother , as well as my god- father ; a little man , three feet and an half high , excessive fat , with his head sunk be- tween his shoulders ; otherwise , an honest priest , whose chief care was to live well , that is , to make good cheer ; and his living , which was no lean one , furnished him with the means. He carried me home to his house, while an infant , and toock the charge of my edu- cation ;%nd I appeared so sprightly , that he resolved te cultivate my genius. With this view , he bought for me a\i horn- book , and undertook himself to learn me to read ; D 5 (82) cl task no less useful to him than to me; for , in teaching me my letters , he had recourse to his reading , which he had al- ways neglected too much ; -and , by dint of application , enabled him to read his breviary without hesitation, ; a qualification he had never been possessed of before. He had all the inclination in the world to instruct me in the Latin tongue also , because it would have been so much money saved to him ; but , alas ! poor Gil Perez 1 he had never in his life understood the rudiments of that language , and was, perhaps , ( but this I do not vouch for certainty ) the most illiterate canon of the whole chapter. I have been told , indeed y that he had not obtained his benefice by his erudition ; but owed it entirely to the gratis ' lude of some pious nuns ,. for whom he had acted the part ot a zelaous commissioner , and by whose influence* the order of priesthood had been conferred upon him without exami. nation. He was , therefore 9 obliged to subject me to te birch of a schoolmaster, and accordingly sent me to the house of D. r Godinez , who was esteemed the most expert flogger in Oviedo. I improved so well under his instruc- tions , that in five or six years I untexstood a little Greek ; was a pretty good Lam scho- lar » and applying myself also to logicMbegart to argue apace : 1 was so much in lovw with dispute j that I stopped passengers 3 l^iown ( 83) or unknown , and proposed arguments (o them ; and sometimes meeting with Hiber- nian geniuses , who were very glad of the occasion , it was a good jest to see us dispute . by our extravagant gestures , grimace , con- tortions , our eyes full of fury , and our mouths full of foam y any one would have taken us for bedlamites , rather than philosophers. By these means , however , I acquired the reputation of a great scholar , in town j a circumstance that pleased my uncle ex- tremely , as he foresaw that I should not be much longer any expence to him. « Hark'e , Gil Bias , said he to me one day : thou art no longer a child , and it is high time for a brisk lad of seventeen , like thee , to push thy fortune in the world : I am deter- mined to send thee to Salamanca , where , with such genius and learning , thou canst not fail of ohtaining some good post : thou shalt have some ducats in thy pocket , to bear thy expences on the road ; and I will give thee my own mule , which thou may est sell at Salamanca for ten or twelve pistoies , and live upon the money until thou shalt be settled to thy satisfaction. » He could not have proposed any thing more agreeable to me ; for I passionately longed to see the world : nevertheless , I had discretion enough to conceal my joy ; and w r hen the time of my departure arrived 9 affecting the snost lively sorrow at leaving my uncle to D6 i "4 ; whom I owed so many obligations , the ha- nest man mehed , and gave me more money than he would have done f could he have seen, to the bottom of my heart. Before 1 set out ? I went to take leave of my father and mother ? who enriched me with advice ; exhorted me to pray to God for my uncle ; to live inof- fensively j to eschew evil ; and , by all means , to refrain from stealing. After they had held fort a good while , they made me a presen! of their blessing , which was all I expected from them ; and I ,. mounting my mule , bade adieu to Oviedo. Smoll£ttv Gil Bias part pour Salamanque , ce qui lui arrive a Pennaflor* Btkold me I he n in the open field 7 clear of Oviodo , on the road to Pennaflor, master of my own conduct of a sorry mule,, and forty good ducats , exclusive of some rials , which I had stolen from my murh honoured uncle* The Erst thing I did , was to let my beast go at discretion ; that is , very gently: and thro- wing the bridle on her neck, I emptied my purse into my hat , and amused myself in counting my money : my joy was excessive j and as y had never seen so much cash before , I handled and gazed at it with insatiable de- light. ' I had reckoned it , perhaps y twenty times over , when , all of a sudden , my mule raising her head , and pricking up her ears , ( 85) Stopped in tlie middle of the highway. Ima- gining she was frightened at something, I loo- ked ahout to see what was the matter , and perceived upon the ground an old hat , tur- ned up , with a rosary of great beads in it ; at ihe same time I heard a lamentable voice pronounce these words. « M. r Traveller , for God's sake , have pity on a poor mai- med soldier ! drop , if you please , a few hits into the hat , and you shall be rewarded in heaven. » I turned my eyes immediately on the side from whence the voice issued , and saw 9 at the foot of a bush , about twenty or thirty paces from me , a kind of soldier , who , upon two cross sticks , sup- ported the barrel of a carbine , in my appre- hension , longer than a pike , with which he seemed to take aim ai me : at this appar- ition , which made me quake for the church's money , I slopped short , and pocketing my ducats in a great hurry, took out some rials , approached the hat , that was exposed for the reception of extorted chanty , and dropped them into it , one after another 9 that the beggar mi^ht see how nobly I used him. He was satisfied with the bounty , and gave me a benediction for every kick that I bestowed on the fides of my mule , in order to get out of his reach ; but the plaguy beast, regardless of my impatience , moved not a step the faster, having lost the power (86) of galloping , by a long habit of carrying my uncle at her own leisure. I dit not look upon this adventute as a very favourable omen for my journey ; I reflected that y might meet with something still worse , before I should arrive at Sala- manca ; and could not help blaming my uncle's imprudence , for having neglected to put me under the direction of a carrier. This , to be sure , was w T hat he ought to have done ; but he imagined that , by giving me his mule , -my journey would be the less expensive ; and he had more regard to that consideration , than to the dangers I might be exposed to on the road. In order , therefore , to repair his mismanagement , I determined ( as soon as I should arrive at Pennaflor ) to sell the mule , and take the opportunity of a carrier for Astorga , from whence I could transport myself to Salamanca by the same convenience ; for , although I had never been out of Oviedo , I was not ignorant of the names of the towns through wirh I must pass, having informed myself of these things before I set out. I arrived in safety at Pennaflor, and , hal- ting at the gate of an inn that made a tole- rable appearance , I no sooner alighted than the landlord came out , and received me wilh great civility; he untied my portmanteau with his own hands f and throwing U on his shoui- ( 37 ) der , conducted me into a room , while one of his servants led my mule into the stable. This inn-keeper, the greatest talker of the Asturies, and as ready to relate his own affairs, with- out being asked , as to pry into those of anot- her , told me that his name was Andrew Corcuelo ; that he had served many years ill the king's army, in quality of a serjeant ; and had quitted the service fifteen months before , to marry a damsel of Castropel , who ( though she was a little swarthy ) knew very well how to turn the penny. He said a thousand other things , which I could have dispensed with the hearing of; but , after having made me his confidant , he thought he had a right to exact the same condescension from me ; and accordingly asked whence I came , whit- her I was going, and what I was. I was ob- liged to answer , article by article ♦ for he accompanied every question with a profound bow , and begged me to excuse his curiosity with such a respectful air , that I could not refuse to satisfy him in every particular. This engaged me in a long conversation with him ? and gave me occasion to mention my design , and the reasons I had for disposing of my mule , that I might take the opportunity of a carrier. He approved of my intention , though not in a very succinct manner ; for he represented all the troublesome accidents that might befal me on the road ; he recoun- ted many dismal stories of travellers 5 and I ( m began to be afraid he would never have done ; he concluded at length , however , with tell- ing me , that if I had a mind to sell my mule , he was acquainted with a very honest jockey , who would buy her. I assured him he would oblige me in sending for him ; upon which he went in quest of him immediately , with great eagerness. It was not long before he returned with this man, whom he introduced to me as a person of exceeding honesty, and we went into the yard all together; where my mule was produced and passed and repas- sed before the jockey , who examined her from head to foot, and did not fail to speak very disadvantageously of her I own , there was not much to be said in her praise ; but 9 however , hat it been the pope's mule , he would have found some defects in her* He assured me , she had all the faults a mule could have ; and , to convince me of his ve- racity, appealed to the landlord , who , doubt- less , had his reasons for supporting his friend's assertions. « Well , » said this dealer , with an air of indifference , « how much $> money do yeou expect for this wretched » aaimal I » After the eulogium he had bes- towed on her , and the attestation of Signior Corcuelo , whom I believed to be a man of honesty and understanding,! would have given him my mule for nothing -> and therefore told him, I would rely on his integrity; bidding him appraise the beast in his own conscience 9 ( s 9 ) and I would stand to the valuation. Upon this he assumed the man of honour ; and re- plied , that in engaging his conscience, I took him on the weak side : in good sooth , that did not seem to be his sti bng side 5 for ins- tead of valuing her at ten or twelve pistoles 9 as my uncle had done, he fixed the price at three ducats , which I accepted with as much jo j as if I had made an excellent bargain. After havinh so advantageously disposed of my mule , the landlord conducted me to a carrier , who was to set out the next day for Astorga. This muleteer let me know , that he would depart before day-break , and promised to awake me in time , after we had agreed upon the price , as well for the hire of the mule as for my board on the road , and when e\ery thing was settled between us , I returned to the inn with Corc-uelo , who , by the way , began to recount the car- rier's history ; he told me every circumstance of his character in town j and , in short , was going to stupify me again with his intolerable loquacity, when , luckily for me, a man of a pretty good appearance prevented my mis- fortune, by accosting him with great civility. I left them together, and went on, without suspecting that I had the least concern in their conversation. When I arrived at the inn , I called for supper , and it being a meagre day 9 was fain to put up with eggs, which, while they got ready , I made up to my landlady % ( 90 ) Whom I bad not seen before : she appeared handsome enough, and withal so sprightly and gay, that I should have concluded (even if her husband had not told me so ) that her house was pretty well frequented. When the amlet I had bespoke was ready , I sat down to table by myself; and had not yet swallow- ed the first morsel when the landlord came in , followed by the man who had stopped him in the street. This cavalier, who wore a long sword , and seemed to be about thirty years of age, advanced towards me with an eager air , saying. — « M. r Student , I am in- formed that you are that Signior Gil Bias of Santillane , who is the link of philosophy and ornament of Oviedo ! Is it possible that you are that mirror of learning , tbat sub- lime genius , whose reputation is so great in this country ? -— You know not' , conti- nued he , addressing himself to the inn-keeper and his wife , you know not what you possess ! You have a treasure in your house ! Behold , in this young gentleman , the eighth wonder of the world ! » Then tur- ning to me , and throwing his arms about my neck. — « Forgive , cried he , my transports ! I cannot contain the joy that your presence creates ! » I could not answer for some time, because he locked me so closaly in his arms, that I was almost suffocated for want of breath ; and it was not till I had disengaged my head (9* ) from his embraces , that I replied. — « Sig- ner Cavalier , I did not tink my name was known at Pennaflor. » « How ? known ! » resumed he, in his formsr strain ; « we keep a register off all the celebrated names within twenty leagues of us : you , in particular , are looked upon as a prodigy ; and I don't at all doubt , that Spain will one day be as proud of you , as Greece was of her Seven Sages' » These words were followed by a fresh hug ; wich I was forced to endure , though at the risk of strangulation. With the little experience I had , I ought not to have been the dupe of his professions and hyperboli- cal compliments : I ought to have known , by his extravagant flattery , that he was one of those parasites which abound in every town , and who , when a stranger arrives 5 introduce themselves to him , in order to fill their bellies at his expence : but my youth and vanity made me judge quite otherwise , my admirer appeared to me so much of a gentleman , that I invited him to tacke a share of my supper. « Aye , with all my soul!» cried he ; « I am too much obliged to my kind stars , for having thrown me in the way of the illustrious Gil Bias , not to enjoy my good fortune as long as I can ! I have no great appetite , continued he . but I will sit down to bear you company , and eat a mouthful , purely out of complaisance. » So Saying , my panegyrist took his place (9* ) right overagainst me; and, a cover being laid for him , attacked the amlet as voraciously as if he had fasted three whole days : by his com- plaisant beginning , I foresaw that our dish would not last long , and therefore ordered a second ; which they dressed with su«h dis- patch , that it was served just as we — oy rather he — had made an end of the first. He proceeded on this with the same vigour ; and found means , without losing one stroke of his theet , to overwhelm me with praises during the whole repast , which made me very well pleased with my sweet self. He drank in proportion to his eating; sometimes to my. health, sometimes tho that of my father and mother, whose happiness , hi ha- ving such a son as me , he could not enough admire. All the while he plied me with wane , and insisted upon my doing him justice , while I toasted health for health ; a circum- stance which, together with his intoxicating flattery , put me into such good humour , that seing our second amlet half devoured, I asked the landlord , it he had no fish in the house, Signior Corcuelo , who , in all likelihood , had a fellow-feeling with the parasite , re- plied — « 1 have a delicate trout , but those who eat it must pay for the sauce : — Tis a bit too dainty for your palate , I doubt. » — « What do you call too dainty ? » said the sycophant , raising his voice ; «yau'rea wisea- cre 7 indeed ! Know , that there jis nothing in (93) this house too good for Signior Gil Bias of Santillane , who deserves to be entertained like a prince ! » I was pleased at his laying hold of the landlord's last words , in which he prevented me ; and , finding myself offended , said , with an air of disdain. — « Produce this trout of yours , Gaffer Corcuelo , and give yourself no trouble about the consequence. » This was what the innkeeper inteded : he got it ready, and served it up in a trice. At sight of this new dish , I could perceive the para- site's eyes sparkle with joy ; and he renewed that complaisance — I mean for the fish •— which he had already shewn for te eggs. At last, however , he was obliged to give out , for fear , of accident j being crammed to the very throat : having , therefore , eaten and drank his bellyful , he thought proper to conclude the farce , by rising from table , and accosting me in these words : — « Signior Gil Bias , I am too well satisfied with your good cheer to leave you , without offering an important advice , which you seem to have great occasion for ; henceforth beware of praise , and be upon your guard against every body you do not know. You may meet with other people inclined to divert themselves with your credulity , and , perhaps , to push things still further ; but don't be duped again , nor believe yourself ^ though they should swear it) the eighth wonder of the wo*ld> » (94) So saying , he laughed in my face, and stal- ked away. I was as much n if ected by this bite , as I have since been by misfortunes of far greater consequence. I could not forgive myself, for having been so grossly imposed upon i or rather , I was shocked to find my pride so humbled : «How ! » said I to myself, « has the traitor , then , made a jest of me I His design in accosting my landlord in the street , was only to pump him ; or perhaps they understood one another. Ah , simple Gil Bias ! go hang thyself , for shame , for having giveu such rascals an opportunity of turning thee into ridicule ! I suppose they'll trump up a fine story of this affair , w r hich will reach Oviedo , and, doubtless , do thee a great deal of honour ; and make thy parents repent their having thrown away so much good counsel on an ass. Instead of exhorting me not to wrong any body , they ought to have cautioned me against the knavery of the world ! ,, Chagrined with these mortifying reflections , and inflamed with resentment , I locked myself in my chamber , and went to bed : where , however , I did not sleep ; for , before I could close my eyes , the carrier came to let me know he was ready to set out , and only waited for me. I got up ins- tantly ; and while I put on my clothes , Cor- cuelo brought me a bill , in which , I assure you , the trout was not forgotten : and I was iiot only obliged to gratify his exorbitance 7 (95) but I had also the mortification to perceive, while I counted the money , that the sarcastic knave remembered my adventure. After ha- ving paid sauce for a supper which I had so ill digested , I went to the muleteer with my bags, wishing the parasite, the inn-kepper and his inn , at the devil. Smollett. Gil Bias est arrete par des voleurs sur la route d'Astorga. I was not the only person who travelled with the carrier , there being in company two children belonging to a gentleman at Pennatlor , a little strolling ballad-singer of Mondonedo , and a young tradesman of As- torga , who was bringing home a girl whom he had married at Verco. We became ac- quainted with one another presently : and every one , in a very short time , told whence he came , and whither he was going. The new-married lady was so stupid and tawny , thad I had no great pleasure in looking at her , but her youth and plumpness had a dif- ferend effect upon the carrier , who resolved to make an attempt upon her inclinations : he spent the whole day in projecting this noble design , the execution of which he deferred until we should arrive at our last stage , which happened to be at Cababelos. He accordingly made us alight at the first inn we came to ? the landlord of which he (&6) knew to be a complaisant and discreet person* He took care to have us conducted into a remote apartment , where he allowed us to sup in tranquillity ; but when our meal was ended , he entered with a furious look, crying: — ** Blood and oons ! I am robbed of one hundred pistoles , which I had hi a leathern bag , and y must find them immediately ; otherwise I. will apply to the magistrate of the place , who is no joker in these matters , and have you all put to the rak , till such time as you confess te crime , and restore the mo- ney. ,, Having pronounced these dreadful words wit a very natural air , he went out , leaving us all in the utmost consternation. As we were strangers to each other , none of us had the least suspicion of the finesse ; for my own part , I suspected that the poor ballad-singer had done the deed ; and , per- haps he had the same opinion of me. Besides, we were all raw fools, utterly ignorant of the formalities used in such cases , and belie- ved in good earnest , that the process would be begun by putting us all to the torture. Giving way , therefore , to our fear , we evacuated the room in a great hurry , some runuing into the street , others flying into the garden , and every one betaking himself to his heels for safety. Among the rest the young tradesman of Astorga , as much scared as any of us at the thoughts of the torture , made his escape , like another ^Eueas , ( 97 ) JEneas , without incommoding himself with his wife. It was then that the carrier , ( as I have since learned) more incontinent thaa his mules , and overjoyed to see his stratagem succeed according to his expectation , went to the bride , boasted of his own ingenuity , and endeavoured to profit by the occasion : but this Lucrece of the Asturies , to whom the villainous aspect of her tempter lent new strength , made a vigorous resistance , and screamed most powerfully. The patrole , which happened at that instant to pass by the house that they knew deserved their at- tention , went in , and demanded the reason of those cries : upon which the landlord 7 who sat singing in the kitchen ? and pretended to know nothing of the matter , was obliged to conduct the officer and his guard into the chamber of the person who made the noise c They arrived very seasonably , the chaste As- turian being quite exhausted ; and the com- mander ( who was none of the most delicate people in the world ) perceiving what was the matter 5 gave the amorous muleteer a wooden salutation with the handle of his hal« berd , addressing him at the same time ia terms as inconsistent with modesty as the ac- tion that suggested tern. This was not all : he apprehended the criminal , and carried him before the judge : together with his accu- ser , who , notwithstanding her disorder , would have gone of herself to crave justice E (9S) for the outrage that was committed upon her. The magistrate having heard , and attentively considered the cause 9 found the defendant guilty ; caused him to be stripped and scourged in his presence : and ordered that , if the husband of the plaintif should not appear before next day , she should be escorted to Astorga , by two horsemen , at the charge of the delinquent. As far me , more terrified , perhaps , than the rest , I got into the country , and cros- sing I don't know how many fields and heaths , and leaping all the ditches I found in my way , I arrived at last at the border of a wood , and was just going into it , with a view of concealing myself in some thicket, when all of a sudden , two men on horse- back appeared before me 9 and called , — « Who goes there I » As my surprise hinder- ed me from making immediate answer , they advanced ; and each clapping a pistol to my throat 9 commanded me to tell who I was , whence I came , my business in the forest , and above all things , to hide nothing from them. To these interrogations , the manner of which seemed to me equal to the rack with which the carrier had threatened us , I replied f that I was a lad of Oviedo , going to Sala- manca ; recounted the alarm we had under- gone , and confessed , that the fear of being put to the torture had induced me to run away. They burst out into a loud laugh at this db= t 99 ) tovery , which manifested the simplicity of my heart ; and one of them said , •*— « Take » courage 5 friend ; come along with us , and # fear nothing : we will put thee in a place ^> of safety. » So saying , he made me get up behind him , and then we retreated into the wood* Though I did not know what to make of this rencountre > 1 did not presage any thing bad from it; For , « said it to myself, iftht.se people were thieves , they would have rob- bed , and perhaps murdered me , at once they must certainly be honest gentlemen 5 who live hard by , and who 5 seeing me in a panic , have pity on my condition , and , carry me home with them out of charity. » But I did not long remain in suspense ; for • after several windings and turnings , which we performed in great silence 9 we came to the foot of a hill , where we alighted ; and one of the horsemen said to me, — « This is our dwelling-place. » I looked around , but could perceive neither house 9 hut , nor the least appearance of any habitation : never- theless , these two men listed up a huge woo- den trap-door , covered with earth and bram- bles , which concealed the entrance of a long shelving passage under ground , into which the horses went of themselves 9 like beats that were used to it ; while the cavaliers , taking the same path , made me follow them ; then lowering the cover , with cords fastened to E 2 ( IOO ) the inside for that purpose, behold the worthy kinsman of my uncle Perez caught like a mouse in a trap ! Smollett. Description de la caverne des voleurs , etc* I now discowered m y situation, and any one may easily believe that this discovery effec- tually dispelled my former fear : a terror more mighty , and better founded , took pos- session of my soul ! I laid my account with losing my life as well as my ducats j and loo- king upon myself as a victim led to the al- tar , walked ( more dead tham alive ) bet- ween my conductors , who , feeling me trem- ble , exhorted me in vain to fear nothing* When we had gone about two hundred paces , turning and descending all the way , we en- tered into a stable , lighted by two great iron lamps hanging from the arch above. Here I saw plenty of straw, and a good many casks full of provender : there was room enough for twenty horses; but at that time there were only the two that we brought along with us , which an old negro , who seemed vigorous for his years , was tying to a rack. We went out of the stable , and by the dismal glimmer of some lamps , that seemed to enlighten the place only to show the horrors of it , came to a kitchen , where an old cook-maid was busy in broiling steaks , and providing for supper. The kitchen was adorned with all ( 101 ) Necessary utensils ; and hard by there was a larder stored with all sorts of provisions. The cook ( for I must draw her picture ) was a person somewhat turned of sixty : in her youth the hair of her head had been red as a carrot; for time had not as yet so much bleached it , but that one might still perceive some shades of its primitive colour : she had an olive complexion , a chin pointed and pro- minent, with lips fallen in, a hnge aquiline nose that hung over her mouth , and eyes that flamed in purple, « Well , dame Leonarda , j> said one of the gentlemen , presenting me to this fair angel of darkness , « here's a young man we have brought for you. » Then turning to me , and observing me pale and dismayed -*■ <<, Friend , said he , banish thy fear , we will do thee no harm. Having occasion for a ser- vant to assist our cook-maid , we met with thee . and happy it is for thee we did : thou shalt here supply the place of a young fel- low , who let himseil die about flfeen days ago j he was of a very delicate complexion ; but thou seemest to be more robust , and wilt; not die so soon : indeed , thou wilt never see the litght of the sun again ; but in lieu of that, thou shalt have good cheer , and a rou- zing fire. Thou shalt pass thy time with Leo- narda , who is a very gentle creature , and enjoy all thy little conveniences. I will shew thee , » added he 7 « that thou hast not got E5 ( 102 ) among beggars. » With these words he took up a flambeau , and , bidding me follow him , carried me into a cellar , where I saw an infinite number of bottles and jars well corked , which , he told me , were filled with excellent wine. He afterwards made me pass through several appartments , some of which contained bales of linen , others of silks and stufss : in one I perceived gold and silver , and a great quantity of plate in diffe- rent cupboards. Then I followed him into a large hall , illuminated by three branches of copper , which also gave light to the rooms that communicated with it : here he put fresh questions to me j asked my name j and rea- son for leaving Oviedo , and when I had satis- fied his curiosity in these particulars — « Wei), Gill Bias , » said he , u since thy design in quitting the place of thy nativity was to obtain some good post , thou must certainly have been born wiih a cawl upon thy head, seeing thou hast fallen into our hands. 1 have already told thee , thou shalt live here in affluence ? and roll upon gold and silver : nay , more 9 thou shalt be safe $ for such is the contrivance of this retreat y that the officers of the holy brotherhood may come into the wood an hundred times without discovering it. The entry is unkoown to every soul 4 except me and my comrades : perhaps thou wilt won- der how it could be executed without being perceived by the people in the neighbourhood. \ ( io3 ) Know , then , my lad , that this is not a work of our hands , but was made many years ago ; for , after the Moors had got possession of Grenada , Arragon ,. and almost the whole of Spain , the Christians , rather than submit to the yoke of infidels , fled , and concealed themselves in this country, in Biscay , and in the Asturies, whither the valiant Don Pelagio retired : fugitives , and dispersed in small numbers , they lived in mountains and woods ; some lurked in caves , and others contrived many subterranean abodes ; of which num- ber this is one. Having afterwards been so lucky as to drive their enemies out of Spain 9 they returned into the towns j and , since that time r their retreats have served for asylums to people of our profession. It is true , indeed , the holy brotherhood (1) have discovered and destroyed some of them ; but there are still plenty remaining ; and thank Heaven , I have lived here in safety near fifteen years ; my name is Captain Rolando : I am chief .of the company 9 and he whom thou sawesl with me is one of my gang. » Smollett. (0 The Holy Brotherhood in Spain , called la Santa. Hermandad , was formerly an association to suppress robbers , in times of civil commotion ; and at this day an establishment kept up through all the kiogdome and provinces of Spain for the same purposer E 4 ( 104 ) Arrivee d'autres voleurs dans le souterrain, Signiob Rolando had scarce done speaking , when six new faces appeared in the hall ; these were the lieutenant with five of the company , who returned loaded with booty , which consisted of two hampers full os sugar , cinnamon , pepper , dried figs , almonds and raisins. The lieutenant adressing himself to the captain , told him , that he had taken these hampers from a grocer of Benavento , whose mule he had also carried off. When he had given an account of his expedition to his superior , the pillage of the grocer was ordered into the store , and it was unani- mously agreed to make merry. A table being covered in the great hall , I was seut back in to the kitchen , where dame Leonarda ins- tructed me in the nature of my office ; and , yielding to necessity , ( since my cruel fate had so ordained , ) I suppressed my sorrow ? and prepared myself for the service of those worthy geutlemeu. My first essay was on the side-board , which I adorned with silver cups , and many stone bottles of that good wine which Signior Ro- lando praised so much. I afterwards brought in two ragouts , which were no sooner ser- ved , than the whole company sat down ta eat. Thy began with a good appetite, while I stood behind , ready to supply them with ( io5 ) wine ; and acquitted myself so handsomely , that I had the honour to be complimented upon my behaviour. The captain recounted my story in a few words , which afforded a good deal of diversion , and afterwards ob- served that I dit not want merit : but I was at that time cured of my vanity , and could hear myself praised without danger. Not one of them was silent on the subject ; they said, I seemed born to be their cup-bearer ; that I was worth an hundred of my predecessors ; and although Dame Leonarda ( since his death ) had been honoured with the office of presenting nectar to these infernal gods , they divested her of that glorious employment, in which they installed me , like a young Ga- nymed succeeding an ancient Hebe, A great dish of roast meat , served up after the ragouts , finished the repast of those gor- mandizing thieves ; who , drinking in pro* portion to their gluttony , soon became fro- lick , some made a hellish noise , and spoke all together : one began a story , another broke a jest , a third shouted , a fourth sung; so that there was nothing but riot and confu- sion. At length Rolando , tired of a scene in which he was so little regarded , cried , (with a voice that silenced the whole com- pany ) : — « Gentlemen , I have a proposal to make ; instead of stunning one another in this manner , by speaking all together ,. would it not be better to entertain ourselves lika E5 ( io6 ) seasonable creatures ? There is a thought come into my head : since the time of our association , we have never had the curiosity to know what families we are derived from , and by what train of adventures we have been severalty led to embrace this way of life ; as these things seem worthy to be known , let us , for our diversion 9 commu- nicate them tho one another. » The lieute- nant , and the rest , as if they had someting very entertaining to relate , embraced , with great demonstrations of joy r the proposal of their chief , who began his own history in these words: « Gentlemen* , you must know that I am the only son of a rich citizen of Madrid j the day of my birth was celebrated in. the family by vast rejoicings. My father , pretty well stricken in years , was ravished at sight of an heir ; and my mother undertook to suckle me at her own breasts : her father , vho was still alive , was a good old man r who meddled with nothing but his beads ^ and recounted his own warlike exploits , having been many years in the army ;so that becoming insensibly the idol of these three persons , I was incesantly dandled in their arms. Lest study sould fatigue me in my tender years , I was allowed to spend them in the most childish amusements 5. my father observing , that children ought not to apply seriously to any thing , until time should have ripened their understanding. In. ( *°7 ) expectation of this maturity , I never lear- ned to read nor write ; but , nevertheless , made good use of my time ; for my father taught me a thousand differend games. I be- came perfectly acquainted with cards , was no stranger to dice ; and my grandfather filled my head with romantic stories of the military expeditions in which he had been concerned. He sung the same catches over and over , and when I hat got ten or twelve lines by heart , by dint of hearing them re- peated for three months together, my memory became a subject for admiration to my pa- rents , who seemed no less satisfied wirh my genius. When , profiting by the liberty I en- joyed of speaking what came uppermost , I used to interrupt their discourse with my nonsensical prattle. — Ah ! what a charming creature it is ! Would my father cry , ( looking at me with inexpressible delight) ; while my mamma overwhelmed me with ca- resses , and my old grandsire wept with joy, I committed , in their presence , the most indecent actions with impunity : every thing was forgiven ; and , in short , they adored me. In the mean time , having attained my twelfth year, without being put to school , a master was at length provided ; but he recei- ved precise orders to instruct me without using any violence, being ony permitted to threaten me sometimes with a view of inspi- ring me with awe. This permission had not E. 6 ( io8 ) the most salutary effects upon me, who either laughed at his menaces , or , whit tears in my eyes , went and complained to my mother and grand-papa of his barbarity. It was in vain for the poor devil to deny the accusation ; he was looked upon as a tyrant , and my as- sertion always believed , in spite of his re- monstrance. I happened one day to scratch myself, upon which , setting up my pipes as if he had flayed me , my mother came running in , and tourned my master out of doors , though he protested , and took Heaven to witness r that he had not touched my ski n. » Li the same manner I got rid of all my preceptors , until such an one as I wanted presented himself : this was a batchelor of Aicala ; an excellent tutor for a person of fashion's child ! he was a lover of play wo- men and wine , consequently the fittest person in the world for me. The first thing he set about was y to gain my affection , in which he succeeded ; and by these means gained the love of my parents , who left me en tirely to his management. Indeed , they had no cause to repent of their confidence ; for , in a very little time , he made me perfect in the know- ledge of te world. By dint of carryng me along with him to the places he frequented , I imbibed his taste so well , that , except in Latin > I became an universal proficient j and when he found I had no farther occasion fo? ( ^g ) his instructions , he went to offer them else- where. If, during my childhood , I had lived pretty freely , it was quite another thing •when I became master of my own actions : I every moment ridiculed my parents , who did nothing but laugh at my sallies , which were the more agreeable , the more insolence they contained. Meanwhile I committed all kinds of debauchery in the company of other young men of the same disposition ; and as our parents did not supply us with money sufficient to support such a delicious life , every one pilfered what he could at his own home ; but that being also insuffi- cient , we began to rob iii the dark ; when 7 unfortunately , the corregidor got notice of us , and would have caused us to be appre- hended , had we not been informed of his treacherous design ; upon which we consul- ted our safety in fight , anh transferred the scene of our exploits to the highway. Since w T hich time , gentlemen , God has given me grace to grow old in my profession , in spite of the dangers to which it is exposed. » Here the captain left of speaking ; and the lieutenant > taking his turn , began with — « Gentlemen , an education quite opposite to that of Signior Rolando has , nevertheless 9 produced the same effect. My father was a butcher of Toledo 3 reckoned the greatest brute in the whole city ; nor was my mother's dis- ( »o) position much more gentle. While I was a child , they whipped me as if it had been through emulation , at the rate of a thousand stripes a day : the least fault 1 committed was attended with the most severe chastisement ; and it was in vain for me to ask pardon , with tears in my eyes , and protest that 1 was sorry for what I had done ; far from being forgiven , I was often punished without a cause : while my father belaboured me , my mother , ( as if he ad not exerted himself , ) instead of inter- ceding for her child , frequently came to his assistance. This treatment inspired me with- such aversion to my paternal habitation , that I ran away before I had attained my four- teenth year ; and taking the road of Arragon <, went to Saragossa , subsisting on charity by the way. There I consorted with beggars , who led a pretty comfortable life ; they taught me to counterfeit blindness 9 to appear lame 9 and afflict my limbs with fictitious ulcers, etc. In the morning , (like players , who disguise themselves in order to appear upon the stage,) we prepared ourselves for the different parts we intended to act, and every one ran to his post : in the evening we met again , and enjoyed ourselves all night , at the expence of those who had compassion on us in the day. Tired , however, of living among those wretches , and ambitious of appearing in a higher sphere , I associated myself with some knights of the post ? who taught me a great ( si* ) many stratagems ; but we were , in a very short time , obliged to quit Saragossa , having quarrelled with a certain justice , whose pro= tection we had enjoyed. Every one took his own course : for my own part , I engaged myself in a company of brave fellows , who put travellers under contribution ; and liked their manner of living so well , that hitherto I hava never felt the least inclination to seek another. I am , therefore , gentlemen , very muche obliged to the barbarity of my parents i for had they treated me a little less savagely,, instead of being an honourable lieutenant , I should have been , doubtless , at this day , a miserable butcher. » The next that spoke was a young thief; who p sitting between the captain and lieutenant^ said , « Gentlemen , the stories we have heard are neither so complicated, nor so cu- rious as mine. I owe my being to a peasant's wife,, who lived in the neighbourhood of Se- ville : three weeks after she had brought ms into the world y ( being still young , hand- some , and healthy, ) it was proposed to her to nurse a man of quality's only son , lately born in Seville. This proposal my mother cheerfully accepted , and went to fetch the child; which being committed to her care , she no sooner brought it home to her house , thaa perceiving some small resemblance between u&, she was tempted to make me pass lot the iaJkat of qaality , in hopes that she should cms ( H2 ) day be well rewarded by me for that kind office 5 my father , who was not more scru- pulous than his neighbours, approved of the deceit ; so that, after having made us exchange swaddlingclothes , the son of Don Kodrigo de Herrera was sent to another nurse under my name , and my mother suckled me under his. » Notwithstanding all the fine things that are said of instinct , and the force of blood , the little gentleman's parents swallowed the change with great ease : they had not the least suspicion of the trick that was played upon them j for, till I was seven years old , I was scarce ever out of their arms. Their intention being to make me a compleat cavalier , all sorts of masters were provided ; but I had no great inclination for the exercices I learned , and still less relish for the sciences they ex- plained ; I loved much better to game with the servants , for whose company I frequented the kitchen and stable : but play was not long my predominant passion ; for before I was seventeen years of age , I got drunk daily , seduced all the women in the housse , but atta- ched myself chiefly to the cook-maid, who seemed to merit my principal regard : she was a fat jolly wench , whose pleasantry and fleek- ness pleased me much ; and I made love to her with so little circumspection , that Don Rodrigo himself perceived it. He reprimanded me sharply j reproached me with the baseness ( »5) bl my inclinations ; and, lest the sight of this amiable object should render his remonstran- ces ineffectual , turned my princess out of doors. » I was disgusted at this piece of conduct , for which I resolved to be revenged : with this view , I stole his lady's jewels , and running in quest of my fair Helen , who had retired to the housse of a washer- woman of her acquain- tance, I carried her off, at noon-day, tho the end that nobody might be ignorant of my pas- sion. That was not all : I conducted her into her own country , where I married her in a solemn manner , that I might not only give Herrera the more vexation , but also afford such a worthy example to the children of no- blemen. Three months after my marriage , I was informed of Dan Rodrigo's death ; a piece of news I dip* not receive with indifference ; but repairing instantly to Seville , in order to de- mand his estate , I found things strangely alte- red. My mother , who was dead , had been silly enough , on her death , to confess the whole affair , in presence of the curate of the village , and other credible witnesses ; in con- sequence of which , theVue son of Don Ro- drigo was already in possession of my place , or rather of his own ; and had been received with the more joy , on account of their being dissatisfied with me. Wherefore , having no- thing to expect from that quarter , and no Ion- . ger feeling any inclination for my fat spouse t ( 2X4 ) i joined some gentlemen of the road , with whom I began my expeditions. » The young robber having ended his story, another informed us , that he was the son of a merchant at Burgos , and prompted by au inconsiderate devotion , had takeu the habit , and professed a very austere order , from which , in a few years , he apostatized. In short , those eight highwaymen spoke in their turns ; and when I had heard them all, I v was not all surprized to find them together. The discourse was afterwards changed ; they brought upon the carpet several .projects for their next excursions , and after having come lo a determination , got up from table , in or- der to ga to rest. Having lighted their W'ax candles, and withdrawn , I followed Captain Rolando into his chamber , where , while I helped to undies him ; « Well , Gil Bias , sayd he ,, thou, seest how we live : we are al- ways merry , and hatred and envy never get footing among us : we never have the least quarrel with one another , but are more uni- ted tham a convent of monks : thou wilt , my child, » pursued hg^.« lead a very agreeable life ia this place ; QR don t believe thee fool enough to boggle at living with robbers. Eh ! dost thou think there any honester people in the world than we I No , my lad , every one loves to prey upon his fellows ; it is an universal principle , though variously exerted^ Conquerors (for example) seize upon the terxi* ( 1x3 ) tories of their neighbours; people of quality bor- row without any intention of repaying; ban- kers , treasurers , exchange-brokers, clerks 7 and all kinds of marchants , great and small 9 . are not a whit more conscientious. As for your limbs of the law , I need not mention them ;, every body knows what they can do : I must own ,howewer, that they are somewhat more humane than we ; for we often put innocent people to death, and they sometimes save the lives of the guilty. Smollett, Tentative dc Gil Bias pour sechapper* When the captain of the thieves had made this apology for his profession , he went to bed , and I returned into the hall , where I uncovered the table , and put every thing in order ; from thence I went into the kitchen ? where Domingo (so was the old negro cal- led ) expected me to supper. Though I had no appetite , I sat down w T ith them ; but as I could not eat, and appeared as melancholy as I had cause to be so , these two apparitions r equally qualified, undertook to give me conso- lation. « Why do you afflictyourself , child !» said the old lady : « you ought rather to rejoice at your good fortune. You are young , and seem to be of an easy temper ; consequently would have been in a little time , lost in the World : there you would have fallen into th& ( it6 ) hands of libertines , who would have enga- ged you in all manner of debauchery ; whe- reas , here your innocence finds a secure ha- ven. » — « Dame Leonarda is in the right , » said the old black-a-moor , with great gravity j « and let me add , the world is full of affliction : thank Heaven , therefore , my friend , for ha- ving delivered thee all at once from the dan- gers 5 difficulties , and miseries of live. » I bore their discourse with patience , because to fret myself would have done me no ser- vice : at last Domingo having eaten and drunck plentifully , retired into the stable ; while Leonarda , with a lamp in her hand , conducted me into a vault , which ferved as a fourying-place to the robbers who died a na- tural death , and in which I perceived a mise- rable truckle-bed , that looked more like a tomb than a couch : « Here is your bedcham- ber , » « said she : « the lad , whose place you have the good fortune to supply , slept here , as long as he lived amongst us ; and now that he is dead , rests in the same place. He stipped away in the flower of his age : I hoppe you will not be so simple as to follow his exam- le. » So saying , she put the light into my hand , and returnati into te kitchen; while I> setting the lamp upon the ground , threw my- self upon the bed , not so much in expectation of enjoying the least repose , as with a view to indulge my melancholy reflections. « O Heaven ! cried 1 , was ever destiny so ten ibis ( "7 ) as mine ! I am banished from the fight of the sun > and , as if it was not enough to be bu«* ried alive at the age of eighteen , I am moreo- ver condemned to serve thieves, to spend the day among highwaymen , and the night among the dead ! » I wept bitterly over these suggestions, which seemed to me, and were, in effect , extremely shocking. A thousand ti- mes I cursed my uncle's design of sending me to Salamanca : I repented of my flying from justice at Cacabelos , and even wished I had submitted to the torture. But recollecting that I injured myself in vaiu complaints to no purpose , I began to think of some means by which I might escape. What , said 9 I to my- self, is it then impossible to deliver myself ! the thieves are asleep ; the cook-maid and ne- gro will be in the same condition presently; cannot I , while they are all quiet , by the help of my lamp , find out the passage through which I descended into this infernal abode ! It is true , indeed , I don't think myself strong enough to lift the trap-door that covers the entry ; but , however , that I may have no- thing to reproach myself with , I will try ; my despair will , perhaps , supply me with strength , and who knows but I may accom- plish it ! » Having then projected this great design , I got up , when I imagined Leonarda and Do- mingo were at rest j and taking the lamp in < "8 ) tnv hand , went out of the vault , recommen- ding myself to all the saints in heaven. It was not without great difficulty that I found again all the windings of this new labyrinth, and arrived at the door of the stable ; where , at last , perceiving the passage I was in search of , I w r ent into it , advancing towards the trap , with as much nimblemess as joy : but, alas ! in the middle of the entry I met with a cursed iron gate, fast locked, and consisting of strong bars , so close to one another, that I could scarce thrust my hand between them. I was confounded at the sight of this new obsta- cie , which I had not observed when I came in , the grate being then open : I did not fail, however , to feel the bars and examine the lock, which I even attempted to force: when all of a sudden, I felt, accross my shoulders, five or six lusty thwacks with a bull's pizzle; upon which , I uttered such a dreadfulyell , that the whole cavern echoed with the sound; and looking behind me, perceived the old ne- gro in this shirt , with a dark lanthorn in one hand , and the instrument of execution in the other, « Ah , ah ! Mr. Jackanapes , said he , you want to make your escape 9 hah ! You mnust not imagine that I am to be caught nap- ping. I he.ird you all the while. I suppose you thought the grate was open , did n't you I Know, my boy , that henceforth thou shaft always find it shut j and that , when we de~ ( "9 5 tain any body here against his inclination , he must be more cuning than thou , if ever he gets off. » In the mean time , two or three of the thie- ves , starting out of their sleep , at the noise of cries , and believing that the holy brother- hood was coming souse upon them , got up in a hurry , and alarmed their companions. In an instant all were a foot ; and , seizing their swords and carbines , advanced half naked to the place where Domingo chastised me ; but they no sooner understood the cause of the noise they had heard , than their uneasiness was changed into fits of laughter. « How , Gil Bias ! said the apostate thief to me , thou hast not been here six hours , and want'st to take thy leave of us already ! Sure thou must have a great aversion to a retired life 9 bah I What wouldst thou do , if thou wert a Carthusian friar I Go to bed ; thou art quit for once , on account of the stripes Domingo has bestowed on thee ; but if ever thou should'st make another effort for escape, by St. Bartho- lomew ! we will flay thee alive ! » This said, he withdrew ; the other thieves retired into their apartments ; the old negro , proud of his exploit , returned into his stable ; and I snea- ked back to my Golgotha , where I spent the remaining part of the night in sighs and tears* Smollet* ( I2Q ) De ce que fit Gil Bias ne pouyant jaitc mieux* During the first days of my captivity , I was like to sink under the sorrow that oppressed me , and might have been said to die by in- ches ; but at last , my good genius inspired me with the resolution to dissemble : I affec- ted to appear less sad than usual ; I began to laugh and sing, though, God knows, with an aching heart. In a word , I counterfeited so well , that Leonarda and Domingo were deceived , and believed that the bird was at last reconciled to his cage. The robbers were of the same opinion; for I assumed a gay air when I filled wine for them , and mingled in their conversation , whenever I found an op- portunity of acting the buffoon. This free- dom , far from displeasing , afforded ihem in- version* It was within, an hour of day-break when, we arrived at our habitation ; and the first thing we did was, to lead our beasts into the stable , where we were obliged to tie them to the rack , and take care of them with our own hands , the old negro having hwn th^ee days before seized with a fit of the ( >3i ) gout and rheumatism , that kept him abed , deprived of the use of his limbs j the only member at liberty was his tongue , which he employed in testifying his impatience by the most horrible execrations. Leaving this mise- rable wretch to swear and blaspheme , we went to the kitchen , where our whole at- tention was engrossed by the lady , and we succeeded so well as to bring her out of her fit ; but when she had recovered the use of her senses , and saw herself in the hands of several men whom she did not know , she perceived her misfortune , and was seized with horror ! The mots lively sorrow and direful despair appeared in her eyes , which she lifted up to heaven , as if to reproach it with the indignities that threatened her; then giving way of a sudden to these dismal apprehensions, she relapsed into a swoon , her eye-iids closed , and the robbers imagined that death would deprive them of their prey. The captain , thinking it more proper to leave her to herself, than to torment her with their assistance 5 ordered her to be carried to Leo- narda's bed , where she was left alone > at the hazard of what might happen. We repaired to the hall , where one of the thieves, who had been bred a surgeon , dressed the lieutenant's wound : after which , being desirous of seeing what was in the trunks , we found some of them filled with lace and liaen „ others with clothes ; and the last we F 6 ( 132 ) opened contained some bags full of pistoles ; at sight of which , the gentlemen concerned were infinitely rejoiced. This enquiry being made , the cook-maid furnished the side-board, laid the cloth , and served up supper. Our conversation at first turned upon the great victory we had obtained j and Rolando ad- dressing himself to me , « Confess , Gil Bias », said he , « confess that thou wast horribly afraid. » I ingenuously owned , that what he said was very true ; but that when I should have made two or three campaigns , I would fight like a knight errant : whereupon the whole company took my part , observing that my fear w 7 as excusable ; that the action had been very hot ; and that, considering I was a young fellow who had never smelled gun- powder, I had acquitted myself pretty welk The discourse afterwards turning upon the mules and horses we had brought into our retreat , it was agreed that tomorrow before day we should all set out togetheter , in order to sell them at Mansilla ; which place , in all probability , the report of our expedition had not yet reached. This resolution being taken , we- finished our meal , and returned into the kitchen to visit the lady , whom we found still in the same situation. Nevertheless, tho' it was with difficulty we could perceive any signs of life in her , some of the villains did not scruple to regard her with a prophage eye , and even to discover a brutal desire 2 ( r33 ) which they would have satisfied immediately, had not Rolando prevented it , by representing to them , that they ought , at least to wait until the lady should get the better of that oppres- sion of sorrow which deprived her of reflec- tion. The respect they had for their captain restrained their incontinence ; otherwise , no- thing could have saved the lady , whose ho- nour death itself, perhaps , would not have been able te secure. We left this unfortunate gentlewoman in the same condition in which we found her ; Rolando contenting himself with laying in- junctions on Leouarda to take care of her , while every one retired into his own apart- ment. Foi my own part , as soon as 1 got to bed , instead of resigning myself to sleep , I did nothing but think of the lady's misfor- tune : I never doubted that she was a person of quality, and looked upon her situation as the more deplorable for that reason. I could not , without shuddering , represent to myself the horrors to which she was destined , and felt myself as deeply concerned for her as if I had been attached by blood or friendship. At last , after having bewailed her hard fate, I began to revolve the means of rescuing her honour from the danger in which it was , and of delivering myself at the same time from the subterranean abode. I recollected that the old negro was not in a condition to move | and that , since his being taken, ill , ( m y the cook-wench kept the key of the grate* This reflection warmed my imagination, and made me conceive a scheme which I digested so well , that I proceeded to put it in practice immediately in the following manner. Pretending to be racked with the cholic , I began with complaints and groans-; then raising my voice , uttered dreadful cries , that awakened the robbers , and brought them in- stantly to my bed-side. When they asked what made me roar so hideously , I answe- red that I was tortured with an horrible cho- lic ; and , the better to persuade them of the truth of what I said , grinded my teeth , made frigthful grimaces and contortions , and writ- hed myself in a strange manner ; then I became quiet all of a sudden, as if my pains had given me some respite. In a moment after, I began again to bounce upon the bed , and*twist about my limbs ; in a word , I placed my partjso well , that the thieves , cunning as they were , allowed themselves to be deceived , and be- lieved , in good earnest , that I was violently griped. In a moment , all of them were busied in endeavours to ease me : one brought a bottle of usqiiebaugh , and made me swallow one half of it; another , in spite of my teeth , in- jected a clyster of oil of sweet almonds; a third warmed a napkin , and applied it broi- ling hot to my belly. I roared for mercy ia vain : they imputed my cries to the cholic ;> and continued to make me suffer real pains , ( x35) in attempting to free me from one I did not feel. At last , being able to resist them no longer, I was fain to tell them that the gripes had left me , and to conjure them to give me quarter. Upon which they left off tormenting me with their remedies , and I took care to trouble them no more with my complaint 9 for fear of undergoing their good offices a se- cond time. This scene lasted almost three hours ; after which, the robbers, judging that day was not far off, prepared themselves to set out for Mansilla : I would have got up T to make them believe I was desirous of accompanying them ; but they would not suffer me to rise , Signior Rolando saying. « No, no , Gil Bias! stay at home , child ; thy cholic may return, Thou shalt go with us another time : but thou art in no condition to go abroad to-day. « I was afraid of insisting upon it too much , lest he should yield to my request : therefore I only appeared very much mortified , because I could not be of the party. This I acted so naturally , that they went out of the cavern without the least suspicion of my design. After their departure , which I had endeavoured to- hasten by my prayers t I said to myself ?: « Now, Gil Bias l now is the time for thee to have resolution : arm thyself with courage r to finish that which thou hast so happily be- gun. Domingo is not in a condition to oppose ihv enterprise , and Leoaarda cannot hiiidejr ( 136) its execution. Seize this opportunity of esca- ping , than which , perhaps , thou wilt never find one more favourable. » These sugges- tions filled me with confidence ; I got up , took my sword and pistols , and went first towards the kitchen ; but before I entered , hearing Leonarda speaking , stopped in order to listen. She was talking to the unknown lady ; who having recovered her senses , and understood the whole of her misfortune, wept in the utmost bitterness of despair. « Weep , my child, » said the old beldame to her ; «dis- - solve yourself into tears , and don't spare sighs j for that will give you ease. You have had a dangerous qualm ; but now there is no- thing to fear , since you shed abundance of tears. Your grief will abate by little and lit tie, and you will soon accustom yourself to live with our gentlemen, who are men of honour. You will be treated like a princess , meet -with nothing but complaisance , and fresh proofs of affection every day. There are a great many women who would be glad to be in your place. » I did not give Leonarda time to proceed ; but entering, flapped a pistol to her breast , and with a threatening look , commanded her to surrender the key of the grate. She was confounded at my behaviour; and, though al- most at the end of her career , so much atta- ched to life , that she durst not refuse my de- mand. Having got the key in my possession , ( i3 7 ) I addressed myself to the afflicted lady , say- ing , « Madam , Heaven has sent you a de- liverer ; rise , and follow me , and I will conduct yon withersoever you shall please to direct. » The lady did not remain deaf to my words ; which made such an impression on her , that summoning up all the strength she had left , she got up , and ihrowingt herself at my feet, conjured me to preserve her honour. I raised her , and assured her that she might rely npon me : then taking some cords which I perceived in the kitchen , with her assis- tance , 1 tied Leonarda to the feet of a large table, swearing that , if she opened her mouth, I would kill her on the spot. I afterwards lighted a flambeau , and going with the Lady into the room where the gold and silver was deposited , filled my pockets with pisto- les and double pistoles ; and to , induce the lady to follow my example , assured her, that she only took back her own. When we had made a good provision of this kind , we went to- wards the stable , which I entered alone with my pistols cocked , firmly persuaded that the old negro , in spite of his gout and rheuma- tism , would not suffer me to saddle and bri- dle my horse in quiet ; and fully resolved to cure him off all his distempers , if he should take it into his head to be troublesome : but by good luck , he was so overwhelmed with the pains he had undergone , and those he still suffered , that I brought my horse out of the (.138 ) stable , even without his seeming to perceive it ; and the lady waiting for me at the door , we proceeded , with all dispatch , through the passage that led out uf the cavern ; arri- ved at the grate , which we opened ; and at last came to the trap-door , which we lifted up with great difficulty; or rather , the desire of escaping lent us new strenght , without which we should not have been able to suc- ceed. Day^began to appear just as we found our- selves delivered from the jaws of this abyss ; and as we fervently desired to be at a greater distance from it , I threw myself into the sad- dle , the lady mounting behind me , and follo- wing the first path that presented itself, at a round gallop , got out of the forest in a short time , and entered a plain , divided by several roads, one of which we took at random. I was mortally afraid that it would conduct us to Mansilla , where we might meet with Rolan- do and his confederates j but happily my fear was vain. We arrived at the town of Astorge , at two o'clock in the afternoon , where peo- ple gazed at us with extreme attention > as if it had been an extraordinary thing to see a woman on horseback , sitting behind a man. We alighted at the first inn we came to , where the first thing I did , was to order a partridge and a young rabbit to the fire ; and while this was doing , I conducted the lady into a chamber , where we began to converse ( i3 9 ) with one another j for we had rode so fast , thdt we had no discourse upon the road. She- shewed how sensible she was of the service I had done her ; and observed , that after I had performed such a generous action , she could not persuade herself that I was a com- panion of the thieves from whom I had res- cued her, I told her my story , in order to con- firm the good opinion she had conceived of me j and , by that means , engaged her to ho- nour me with her confidence , and inform me of her misfortunes , which she recounted , as I shall relate in the following chapter. Smollett* U is to ire de la dame Mencia, « I was born at Valladolid , and my name is Donna Mencia of Mosquera. Don Martin, my father , after having spent almost his whole patrimony in the service of his king, was killed in Portugal , at the head of his own regiment , and left me so moderately provided , that though I was an only child , I was far from being an advantageous match. I did not want admirers , however, in spite of the lowness of my fortune ; a good many of the most considerable cavaliers in Spain paid their addresses to me : but he who attracted my attention most, was Don Alvaro Mello;. he was > indeed , more handsome than any ( Mo ) of his rivals ; but more substantial qualifica- tions determined me in his favour ; he was endued with wit , prudence , probity , and va- lour , and withal the most gallant man in the world. When he gave entertainments , no- thing could be more elegant ; and when he ap- peared at tournaments , every body admired his vigour and address : I preferred him , therefore , to all others , and married him accordingly. » A few days after our marriage , he hap- pened to meet with Don Andrea de Baesa , who had been one of his rivals , in private place ; where quarrelling with each other , they came to blows, and Don Andrea lost his life in. the rencounter. As he was nephew to the corregidor of Yalladolid , a violent man , and mortal enemy to the family of Mello, Don Alvaro knew he could not leave the city too soon : he returned home in a hur- ry; and, while they saddled his horse, told me what had happened. " My dear Mencia , ,, said he , we must part! you know the corre- gidor ; don't let us then flatter courselves , for he will prosecute me with the utmost ran- cour ; and as you are not ignorant of his cre- dit , you know I cannot be safe in this king- dom. ,, a He was so much penetraded with his own sorrow , and with that which he saw take possession of my breast , that he could say no more ; and when I had prevailed upon him to furnish himself with some money and ( Hi ) jewels , he clasped me in his arms , and du- ring a whole quarter of an hour we did no- thing but mingle our sighs and tears. At last, being tojd the horse was ready, he tore him- self from me ; he departed , and left me in a condition not to be described. Happy ! had the excess of my affliction, at that time , put and end to my life ! what troubles and sor- rows would my death have prevented ! Some hours after Don Alvaro was gone , the corre- gidor being informed of his flight , orderet him to be pursued ; and spared nothing to have him in his power : bnt my husband al- ways baffled the pursuit , and kept himself se- cure, in such a manner, that he judge found himself obliged to limit his revenge to the sole satisfaction of ruining the fortune of a man whose blood he wanted to shed : his efforts were not unsuccessful , ail the effects of Don Alvaro being confiscated. „ Left in a most afflicting situation , and having scarce wherewithal to subsist , I be- gan to live a very solitary life , all my atten- dants being reduced to one servant maid : I spent the day in bemoaning — not an indi- gence , which I could have borne with pati- ence — but the absence of my dear husband 5 whose condition I was utterly ignorant of, al- though he had promitted , in his last melan- choly adieu , that he would take care to in- form me of his lot , into whatever part of the world his cruel fate should conduct him. ( H2 ) Nevertheless , seven long years elapsed , w': thout my hearing the least account of him ; and this uncertainty of his destiny plunged me into an abyss of sorrow. At last I was told that , in nghtingt for the King of Por- tugal in Fez , he had lost his life in battle : a man lately returned from Africk confirmed this report , assuring me , that he was per- fectly well acquainted wih Don Alvaro de Melio , had served with him in the Portu- guese army , and even saw him fall in the action : to this he added many other circums- tances , which persuaded me that my husband was no more, „ At that time , Don Ambrosio Mesia Ca- rillo , Marquis of Guardia , came to Valla- dolid : he was one of those old lords who , by the politeness and galantry of their man- ners , make people forget their age , and con- tinue still agreeable to the ladies. One day , hearing by accident the story of Don Alvaro , and being desirous of seeing me , on account of the picture wich had been drawn of me , for the satisfaction of his curiosity , he enga- ged one of my relations 9 who invited me to her house. Seeing me there , I had the for- tune to please him , in spite of the remarkable impression which grief had made on my coun- tenance. But why do I say , in spite of it ? Derhaps he was touched alone by my sad and languishing air , which prepossessed him in favour of my fidelity j his love 1 in all pro- ( i43 ) babiiity, was the effect of my melancholy J for he told me more than once , that he re- garded me as a miracle of constancy ; and that , for this reason , he even envied the fate of my husband , how deplorable soever it was in other respects : in a word , he was struck at first sight of me , and had no occasion to see me a second time , in order to take the resolution of making me his wife. ,, He chose the intercession of my kinswo- man, towards obtaining my consent she came to my lodgings accordingly , and represented tome, that my husband having ended his days in the kingdom of Fez , as we had been in- formed , it was not reasonable that I should bury my charms any longer ; that I had suf- ficiently bewailed the fate of a man with whom I had been united but a few moments; and that I ought to profit by the occasion that now presented itself; by which means I should be the happiest woman in the world. She then extolled the great family of the old Marquis 9 his vast estate , and unblemished character : but her eloquence in displaying the advantages he possessed was in vain ; it was not in her power to persuade me : not that I doubted the death of Don Alvaro , or was restrained by the fear of seeing him again , when I should least expect him ; the little inclination , or rather the reluctance , I felt for a second mar- riage , after having suffered so many infor- tunes by my first 3 was the ouly obstacle my ( H4 ) relation had to remove. She did not despair for all that ; on te contrary , it redoubled her zeal for Don Ambrosio , she engaged my whole family in the interest of that lord - y my relations pressed me to accept of such an ad- vantageous match ; I was every moment be- sieged , importuned , and tormented ; and my misery , which dailhy encreased , contributed not a little to overcome my resistance. ,, Being unable , therefore , to hold out any longer, I yielded to their pressing instances , and married the Marquis of Guardia ; who , the day after our nuptials , carried me to a very fine castle which he had situated near Burgos , between Grajal and Rodillas. He conceived the most violent passion for me , and I observed , in the whole of his beha- viour , the utmost desire of pleasing me. His sole study, was to anticipate my wishes : no hudsband had ever such a tender regard for his wife : and no lover ever shewed more complaisance to his mistress. I should have been passionately fond of Don Ambrosio , notwithstanding the disproportion of our years , had I been capable of loving any one after Don Alvaro j but a constant heart can never change. The endeavours of my second husband to please me were rendered ineffec- tual by the remembrance of my first; so that I could only requite his tenderness with pure sentiments of gratitude. ? , I was in this disposition , when , one day , ( U$ j viay , taking the air at the window of m y appartment , I perceived in the garden a kind of peasant who earnestly looked at me : thirt- king he was the gardener's servant , I took no notice of him ; but next day being again at the window, I saw him in the same place, and he seemed to view me with uncommon attention : struck with this circumstance , I looked at him in my turn , and after having some time considered him , thought I reco- gnized the features of the unfortunate Don Alvaro, This apparition raised an inconcei- vable tumult within me ; I shrieked aloud > but luckily there was nobody present , except Inez, who , of all my servants , enjoyed the greatest share of rny confidence. When I im- parted to her the suspicion that alarmed me , she laughed at my apprehension , believing that my eyes were imposed upon by some slight resemblance. " Recollect yourself, Ma- dam , ,, said she , u and don't imagine you have seen your former husband : what likeli- hood is there , that he should be here in the dress of a peasant I or , indeed , what pro- bability is there of his being alive I I will go down into the garden, ,, added she , " and talk to this countryman 5 and when I have learned who he is , come back , and let you know. ,, Inez accordingly went into the gar- den , and soon after returned to my apart- ment in great emotion , saying , " Madam f vour suspicion is but too just ! it is Don Al- G ( H6 ) varo himself whom you have seen ! he has discovered himself , and demands a secret interview. ,, 9 , As I had , at that very time , an oppor- tunity of receiving Don Alvaro , the Marquis being at Burgos , I ordered my maid to bring him into my closet , by a private stair-case. You may well think that I was in a terrible agitation, and altogether unable to support the presence of a man who had a right to load me with reproaches. As soon as he ap- peared , I fainted away. Inez and he flew to my assistance ; and when they had brought me out of my swoon , Don Alvaro said , " Madam , for Heaven's sacke , compose your- self ; let not my presence be a punishment to you j I have no intention to give you the least pain. I come not as a furious husband, to call you to an account of your plighted truth , and upbraid you with the second engagement you have contracted. I know very well that it was the work of your relations ; I am ac- quainted with all the persecutions you have suffered on that score : beside , the report of my death was spread all over Valladolid, and you had the more reason to believe it true 9 as no letter from me assured you of the contrary : in short , I know in what manner you have lived since our cruel separation , and that necessity , rather than love , has thrown you into the arms of — „ " Ah , Sir ! „ cried T } interrupting him , " why will you ( H7 ) excuse jour unhappy wife ! She is criminal . since you life ! Why am I not still in that miserable situation in which I lived , before I gave my hand to Don Ambrosio I Fatal nuptials ! I should then , at least , have had the consolation in my misery , to see you again without a blush. ,, " My dear Mencia ! „ replied Don Alvaro ? w T ith a look that testified how much he was affected by my tears , " I do not complain ; and far from reproaching you with the splen~ did condition in which I find you , by all my hopes , I thank Heaven for it ! Since the me- lancholy day of my departure from Vallado- lid , fate has been always adverse , and my life but a chain of misfortunes ; and , to crowii my misery , it was never in my power to let you hear from me ! Too confident of your love , I incessantly repsesented to myself the condition to which my fatal tenderness had reduced you. My imagination painted Donna, Mencia in tears! you was the greatest of all my misfortunes j and sometimes , I must con- fess , I have looked upon myself as a criminal , in having had the good fortune to please you : I have wished that your affection had inclined towards some one of my rivals , since the preference you gave to me had cost you sq dear. Nevertheless , after seven years of suffe- ring , more in love then ever , 1 was resolved to see you. I could not resist the desire H/ich ; at the end of a long slavery ^ having G 3 ( H* ) an opportunity to satisfy, I went , in this dis* guise , to Valladolid, at the hazard of my life : there being informed of every thing , I came hither, and found means to introduce myself into the family of the gardener , who has hired me to work under him. You see in what manner I have conducted myself to ob- tain this private interview; but do not ima- gine that my design is to disturb the felicity you enjoy, by remaining in this place. No i I love you more than myself ; I have the utmost regard for your repose ; and now that I have had the melancholy satisfaction of con- versing with you , will go , and finish at a distance , that miserable life , which I sacrifice to your quiet. » « No, Don Alvaro ! no ! » cried I at these words j I will not suffer you to leave me a second time ! I wil go along with you , and death alone shall divide us ! » «, Take my advice, » said he , « and live with Don Am- brosio ; do not associate yourself with my misfortunes , but leave me alone to support the weight of them. » He said other things to the same purpose : but the more he seemed willing to sacrifice himself to my happiness , I felt myself the less disposed to consent to it : and when he saw me firmly resolved to follow^ him , he changed his tone all of a sud- den , and assuming a more serene air , said , 4 Madam , since you have still so much love for Don Alvaro , as to prefer his misery to ( 149 ) the prosperity you now enjoy , let us go and live at Betancos , at the farther end of the kingdom of Galiicia , where 1 have a secret retreat. Although my misfortunes have ruined my estate , they have not yet deprived me of friends 5 I have still some faithsul ones remai- ning, who have put me in condition to carry you off: by their assistance , I have provided a coach at Zamora , bought mules and horses , and am accompanied by three resolute Galli- cians , armed with carbines and pistols , who now wait for my orders at the village of Ro- dillas. Let us therefore , » added he , « take the advantage of Don Ambrosio's absence : I will order the coach to come to the castle- gate , and we will set out instantly* » « I con- sented ; Don Alvaro flew to fiodillas , and returned in a short time, with his three atten- dants , to carry me off from the midst of my Women ; who , not knowing what to think of this event , ran all away in the utmost con- sternation. Inez alone was privy to it , but re- fused to attach herself to my fortuness , because she was in love with the valet de chambre of Don Ambrosio. « I got into the coach with Don Alvaro , carrying nothing with me but my own cloaths, and some jewels I had before my second mar- riage ; for I would take nothing that the Mar- quis had given me on that occasion. We took the road to Galiicia , without knowing if we §hould be so happy as to reach it $ having G 5 ( i5o ) reason to fear that Don Ambrosio , at his re- turn , would pursue us with a great number of people , and overtake us. Nevertheless , we continued our journey two days , without seeing one horseman behind us ; and , in hopes that the third would pass in the same manner , were conversing with each other in great tran- quillity. Don Alvaro had just recounted the melancholy adventure which had given rise to the report of his death ; and how , after having been a slave Rve years , he had reco- vered his liberty ; when yesterday , on the road to Leon,we met those thieves with whom you were in company. He is the person whom they murdered , with all his attendants , and for whom these my tears are shed. Smollett. De quelle maniere desagreable fat inter* rompue la conversation de Gil Bias avec la Dame. Doimna Mencia having ended her relation 9 shed a torrent of tears : while I , letting her give a free vent to her sighs , w r ept also ; so natural is it to interest one's self for the unfor- tunate j especially for a fine lady in distress. I was going to ask what she intended to do in the present conjuncture ; and perhaps she was about to consult me on the same subject ; when our conversation was interrupted by a great noise in the inn 9 which 3 in spite of us , { isi.-y attracted our .attention. This noise was occa» sioned by the arrival of the corregidor , fol- lowed by two alguazils ( j)and a guard , who^ without any ceremony , entered the room where we were. A gentleman who accompa- nied them , approached me first , and exami- ning my dress , had no occasion to hesitate long , but cried , « By St. Jago I this is my individual doublet; as easy to be known again as my horse. You may apprehend this gallant on my testimony ; he is one of the thieves who have an unknown retreat somewhere in this country. » At this discourse , by which I understood he was the gentleman who had been robbed , and whose spoils I was unluckily in possession of , I was suprized , confouded , and dis- mayed. The corregidor , whose office obliged him to put a bad construction on my disorder, rather than interpret it favorably, concluded that I .was not accused without reason ; and presuming that the lady might be an ; accom- plice , ordered us to be imprisoned separately. This judge, far from being one of those who assume a stern countenance , was all softness and smiles ; but God knows if he was a bit the better for that ; for I was no sooner com- mitted , than he came into the jail with his two terriers , ( I mean the alguazils , ) who , not fovgetting their laudable custom, began (i) Alguazils are attendants of justice , whose ofEce resembles that of our bailiffs, G4 ( *5d ) to rummage me in a moment. What a glo- rious windfall was this for those honest gent- lemen ! I do not believe that ever they got such a booty before : at every handful of pis- toles they pulled out , I saw their eye^ sparkle wi'h joy ; the corregidor , in particular, was transported : « Child, » said he , with a voice full of meekness y « we must do our duty ; but be not afraid : if thou art innocent t thou shall sustain no harm. » In the mean time 9 with all their gentleness f they emptied my pockets , and even robbed me of that which the thieves had respected ; I mean my uncle's forty ducats : their greedy and indefatigable hands searched me from head to foot ; they turned me about on all sides ; and even strip- ped me , tho see if I had any money between my shirt and my skin. Wen they had dexte- rously acquitted themselves in this manner 9 I was interrogated by the corregidor , to whom I ingenuously recounted every thing that had happened to me. He ordered my de- position to be taken in writing , and then went avay with his attendants and my coin y leaving me entirely naked among ths straw* « O life ! » cried I , when I found myself alone in this condition, « how full of capri- cious accidents and disappointments art thou ! Since I left Oviedo, I have met with nothing but misfortunes ! Scarce had I got out of one danger , when I fell into another ! and when ( i5».) I came into this town , I was far from thin- king that I should so soon become acquainted with the corregidor. » While 1 made these vain reflections ,1 put on again the cursed doublet , and the rest of the dress which my evil genius had lent me ; then exhorting my- self to take courage. « Come , Gil Bias , » said I to myself, « display thy fortitude : it will ill become thee to despair in an ordinary prison , after having put thy patience to such a severe trial in the subterranean abvss. But alas ! « added I in a sorrowful tone , I abuse myself \ how shall I escape from hence when I am utterly deprived of the means \ » In effect , I had too much reason to say so ; for a prisoner without money is like a bird whose wings are clipped. Instead of the partridge and rabbit I had bespoke , they brought me a little brown bread and a pitcher of water , and left me to fret at leisure in a dungeon ; where I re- mained fifteen whole days , without seeing a human creature 5 except the turnkey, who came every morning to renew my provision. As often as I saw him , I endeavoured to speak to and enter into conversation with him , in order to divert me a little; but this venerable person made no answer to what I said ; I could not extract one word from him ; nay , for the most part , he came in and went out without so much as deigning me a look. On the sixteenth day* tke corregidor coming in p G 5 ( i54) said , « Thou mayest now give # loose to joy. I bring thee agreable tidings. I have or- dered the lady who was along with thee to be conducted to Burgos. I examined her be- fore her ^departure , and her answers have exculpated thee. Thou shalt be enlarged this very day , provided that the muleteer, whilh whom ( as thou sayest ) tqou earnest from Penuaflor to Cacabelos , confirms thy depo- sition. He is now in Astorga , and I have sent for him ; and if he agrees with thee in the adventure of the rack , I will instantly set the free. » These words gave me infinite joy ; I looked upon myself as already acquitted ; I thanked the judge for his just and expeditious deci- sion ; and had not yet quite finished my com- pliment, when the carrier, conducted by two soldiers, arrived. I remembered his face im- mediately ; but he having , without doubt 7 sjld my portmanteau , and all that was in it, was afraid of being obliged to restore the mo- ney he had received for it , if he should own that he knew me 5 and therefore affirmed y with astonishing assurance , that so far from knowing me, he had never seen me before, « Ah , traitor ! » cried I , « rather confess that thou hast sold my goods, and bear witness to the truth. Look at me again. I am one of the young people whom you threatened with the torture at the borough of Cacabelos , and frightened very much. » The carrier answered ( i$5 ) coldly , that I talked of an affair of which he was utterly ignorant; and , as he maintained to the last , that I was unknown to him , my enlargement was deferred till another time ; so that I was obliged to arm myself with pa- tience anew , and resolved to regale myself still with my bread and water , and a sight of the silent turnkey. The thoughts of being unable to free myself from the claws of jus- tico , although I was not guilty of the least crime , threw me into despair. I wished my- self again in the cavern, « where, in the main, » said I to myself, I was less disa- greeably situated than in this dungeon. There I ate and drank in plenty, conversed with the robbers , and lived in the sweet hope of ma- king my escape ; instead of which, notwith- standing my innocence, I shall, perhaps, think myself happily quit , to get out of this place in order to be sent to the gallies. » Smollett. Comment Gil Bias sortit de la prison. While I passed my days in entertaining myself with these reflections , my adventu- res, such as appeared in my deposition, spread all over the town j upon which many people , being curious to see me , came and presented themselves one after another, at a small chink, through which the light was conveyed into my prison $ and afier having observed me for G6 ( i56 ) some time , went away. I was surprized a* this novelty; for since the day of my impri- sonment , I had not before seen a living soul at that window , which served to enlighten a court where horror reigned m silence. Gues- sing from this , that I made some noise in town , I did not know whether to interpret it as a good or bad omen. One of the first that offered themselves to my view , wss the little ballad-singer of Ma. donedo , who , having been equally afraid of the torture , had fled as welt as I. I knew him again immediately ; and , as he did not pretend to have forgot me, we saluted one another j and falling into a long conversation , I was obliged to repeat my adventures anew. For his part , he informed me of what had hap- pened at the inn of Cacabeios , between the carrier and the new-married wife , after we had been driven away by a panic : hi aword' 9 he acquainted me with the wl ole of what 1 have already rehearsed on that subject. Af- terwards , taking leave of me for the present,, he promised , without loss ol time , to labour for my deliverance : and every body who came (as lie did) through curiosity , seemed affected with my misfortune , and even assu- red me, that they would join the little ballad- singer , and do all that lay in their power to procure my enlargement. Thev kept their promise effectually , and spoke in my behalf to the corrigidor ? . who ( x5 7 ) afio longer doubting my innocence , especially when the ballad-singer had told him what he knew of the matter , at the end ol three weeks came into the prison ; and said, « Gil Bias, I dou't chuse to protract things : go, thou art free , and mayest quit the prison when thou wilt. Bus tell rne , » pursued he , « if thoa shouldst be brought to the wood in which the subterranean retreat is, couldst thou not find it out T » « No Sir , » I replied ; «, for as I 'went in at night , and came out before day, it would be impossible for me to fix upon the spot. » Upon this the judge withdrew ; telling me that he was going to order the turnkey to set the prison doors open for me. In effect , the gaoler came into my dungeon a moment after , with one of his men carrying a bundle of clothes ; and stripping me ( with a grave and silent air ) of my doublet and breeches 9 which were made of fine cloth , and almost new , they put me on a shabby footman's frock , and pushed me out by the shoulders* The joy that prisoners commonly feel iti recovering their liberty , was moderated by my confusion in seeing myself so poorly equip- ped ; anil I was tempted to leave the town instantly, that I might withdraw myself from the eyes of the people , whose looks I could scarce endure : but my gratitude got the better of my shame ; I went to thank the ballad- singer , to whom I was so much obliged $ audi jbe ce*)kl uQt help laughing, when ha saw me* ( i5S ) c< What a strange figure you are ! » said he r & Justice , I see , has been done you in all her forms. » I do not complain of justice , » I replied, «she is most equitable : I wish only that all her officers were honest men. They ought at least to have spared my cloaths , which I think I paid for pretty handsomely. » « I think so too , » said he ; « but they will tell you , these are formalities which must be observed. What ! do you think ( for exam- ple ) that your horse has been restored to the right owner I not at all ; I assure you , he is now actually in the stable of the townclerk , where he has been deposited as a proof of the robbery ; and I don't believe the poor gent- leman wil ever retrieve so much as the crup- per. But let us shift our discourse , » conti- nued he. « What is your design I what sche- me do you intend to prosecute at present ? » « I want to go to Burgos , » said I , « in order to find out the lady I delivered , who will give me a few pistoles , with which I will purchase a new cassock , and repair to Salamanca , where I will endeavour to make my Latin turn to some advantage. All I am concerned at is , that I am at some distance from Burgos , and shall want subsistence on the road » « I understand you , » he replied, « Here is my purse ; 'tis , indeed , a little low j but a ballad-singer ? you know, is not a bis- hop. » At the same time he slipped into my Jiand so cbearfully , that I could not for my . ( l5 9 > . soul refuse the offer, such as it was. J thanked him as much as if he had given me all the gold in Peru , and made a thousand profes- sions of service , which I never had an oppor- tunity to perform. Then , bidding him fare- well 9 I left the town, without having visited those other persons who had contributed to my enlargement ; contenting myself with be- stowing on them in my thoughts a thousand benedictions. The little ballad-singer w~as in the right to speak modestly of his purse, in which I found very little money : but happily for me , I had been used ten months to a very frugal diet : and I had still some rials left , when I arrived at the borough of Ponte de Mula , which is but a little way from Burgos. Here I halted to enquire about Donna Mencia , and going into an inn , the mistress of which was a little , lean, fierce , insolent creature, I per- ceived at once, by the disdainful look she dar- ted at me , that my frock was not at all to her liking ; a disgust which I forgave with all my heart. I sat down at table : where I ais some bread and cheese, and swallowed a few draughts of execrable wine , which they brought for me ; and during this repast, which was very well suited to my dress , I wanted to enter into conversation with my landlady. II begged her to tell me if she knew the Mar- quis of Guardia ; if his castle was far from the boroug ; and ? in particular 9 if she had ( i6o ) heard what had become of the Marchioness his lady. u You ask a great many questions , „ replied sbe with a scornful look. She told me, however ( though with a very bad grace , ) y that the castle of Don Ambrosio was but a short leage from Ponte de Mula. When I had done eating and drinking , ( it being by this time pretty late, ) I expressed a desire of going to rest , and bade them shew me into a bed-chamber. « A bed-chamber for you ! » said the landlady, darting at me a look full of haugtiness and contempt; « I have no bed-chambers for people who sup on a morsel of cheese. All m'y beds are bespoke. I expect gentlemem of importance to lodge here to- night ; so that all I can do for you is , to quar- ter you in the barn ; audit wont't , I suppose > be the first time you have slept upon straw. » She did not know how true she spoke : but I made no reply , and very wisely condescen- ded to sneak into the straw J where , in a very short time , I slept like one who had suffered much fatigue. Smollett. Reception que Jit a Burgos la dame Mencia* I did not lie a-bed like a sluggard next mor- ning , but went to reckon with my landlady ^ who seemed less proud and snappish than she had been the night before \ a change that I ascribed to the presence of three honest sol- diers belonging tho the holy brotherhood ,,wh# ( i& ) €onwersed with her in a very familiar man- ner. They had lodged all night at the inn ; and it was , doubtless , for these gentlemen of importance that all the beds had been bespocke, , Enquiring in the borough , the way to the castle whither I wanted to go , I addressed myself by accident to a man of the character of my landlord at Pennaflor ; not contented with answering the question I asked , he let me know that Don Ambrosio was dead three weeks ago , and that the Marchioness , his lady , had retired into a convent at Burgos , which he named. I repaired immediately tho that city, instead of following the road to the castle , as I formerly intented ; and flying directly to the convent where she was , begged the fa- vour of the portress to tell her , that a young man , just released from the gaol of Astorga 9 desired to speak with her. The nun went im- mediately to do what I desired , and retur- ning ; introduced me into a parlour , where I had not been long , when I saw the widow of Don Ambrosio appear at the grate in deep mourning. » You are welcome , said the lady to me , « Four days ago I wrote to a person at Astor- ga , desiring him to go to you from me , and tell you that I shonld be glad to see you , as soon as you should be released; and I did not doubt of your being enlarged in a very little lime j what I said to the corregidor in your ( 162 ) behalf having been sufficient for that purpose. In answer to this he wrote , that you had re- covered your liberty ; that nobody knew whiter you was gone j so that I was afraid I should never see you again , and consequently be deprived of the pleasure of manifesting my gratitude. Don't be ashamed , ,, added she , ( observing my confusion , on account of ap- pearing before her iu such a miserable dress ;) « let not your present condition give you the least uneasiness. After the important services you have done me , I should he the most un- grateful of all women , if I neglected to do something for you. I intend to extricate you out of the wretched situation in which you are ; it is my duty , and I am able to perform it ; the considerable wealth I am now mis- tress of , impowering me to acquit myself towards you , without incommoding myself. « You know , » continued she , « my ad- ventures to the day on which we were both imprisoned ; and I will tell you what has happened to me since. When the corregidor of Astorga had ordered me to be conducted to Burgos , after having heard from my mouth a faithful relation of my story , I repaired to Don Ambrosio's castle, w r here my return oc- casioned extreme surprize, though I was told it was too late j for the Marquis, thunder- struck at te news of my flight , had fallen ill , and the physicians despaired of his life. This was fresh cause for me to complain of tho ( r63 ) rigour of my fate : nevertheless , having ad- vertised him of my arrival , I entered his chamber , and running to his bedside , threw myself on my knees , my face bathed in tears , and my heart oppressed wit the most afflic- ting grief ! '< What brings you hither I „ said he when he perceived me ; " are you come to contemplate your own work I Was it not sufficient for you to deprive me of live , but you must also have the satisfaction of being an eyewitness of my death I ,, " No , my lord , ,, I replied. " Inez must have told you, that I fled with my husband ; and had it net been for the dismal accident which has rob- bed me of him , you never should have seen me again ! „ At the same time I let him know , that Don Alvaro had been murdered by rob- bers , who afterwards carried me into their subterranean retreat : and , in short , infor- med him of all that had happened. When I had done speaking , Don Ambrosio stretched out his hand to me , saying , with the utmost tenderness , l< I am satisfied ; I will not com- plain : why should I reproach you I having found again a husband whom you dearly lo- ved , you abandoned me to follow his fortune : ought I to blame you for such a conduct I No ? Madam , I should have been in the wrong to murmur at it, therefore would not suffer you to be pursued : I revered the sacred rights of your ravisher, and even your inclination to- wards him. In flue ? I do you justice ; and by ( i64) your return , you have retrieved all my ten- derness , Yes , my dear Mencia , your presence owerwhelms me with joy ! but, alas ! it will not last long. I feel my last hour approaching ! Scarce are you restored to my arms , when I must bid you an eternal adieu ! ,, At these af- fecting words my tears redoubled ; I felt and expressed an immoderate affliction ! I question if the death of Don Alvaro, whom I adored , had cost me more sighs ! Don Ambrosio's pre- sage of his own death was but too true : he expired next day ; and I remained mistress of a considerable estate , which he had settled upon me at our marriage. I intend to make no bad use of it. The world shall not see me (though I am still young ) throw myself into the arms of a third husband : for , besides that I think such conduct would be inconsistent with the virtue and delicacy of my sex , I own I have no longer any relish for the world j but design to end my days in this convent , and become a benefactress. ,, Such was the discourse of Donna Mencia ; who , taking out a purse from under her robe ? put it in my hand, saying, " Here are an hundred ducats , which I give you only to buy cloaths. Come and see me again , after you have equipped yourself; for I do not intend to confine my gratitude within such narrow bounds. ,, I gave the lady a thousand thanks; and swore I would not depart from Burgos without taking leave of her. After this oath , ( i65) which, I had no intention to break , I went in quest of an inu , and going into the first I perceived , demanded a room , telling the landlord ( to prevent the bad opinion the migth conceive of me , from the shabby frock) that, notwithstanding me appearance , I was in a condition to pay handsomely for my lodging. At these words , the inn-kepper , whose name was Majuelo , naturally a great w r ag , sur- veying me from top to bottom , answered dryly , with a sarcastic sneer , there was no occasion for such an assurance to persuade him that I should spend like a prince in his house ; for he discovered something noble in me , by my dress ; and , in short , did not doubt that I was a gentleman of a very independent for- tune. I could easily perceive that the rascal rallied me , and , in order to put an end to his witticisms , shewed him my purse. I even counted my ducats on a table before him ; and observing tfiat my coin altered his opinion very much in my favour, desired he would recommend me to a taylor. u You had better,» said he, « send for a broker, who will bring along with him all kinds of apparel ready made , and fit you in a trice. ,, 1 approved of his advice , and resolved to follow it : but the day being near a close , deferred my purchase till next morning, and thought of nothing but making a good supper , to indemnise me for the sorry meals I had made since my delive- rance from the cavern. Smollet. '( iM ) ISouveaux presens de la Dame a Gil Bias . et son depart de Burgos* They brougt for my supper a huge fricas- see of sheep-trotters , which I picked to the bones ; and having drank in proportion , betook myself to rest. As I had the conve- nience of a good bed , I was in hopes of en- joying a sound sleep : but for all that could not close my eyes 9 my thoughts being engros- sed in determining upon the dress I was to chuse. " What must 1 do I ,, said I to myself, a prosecute my first design, buy a cassock , and go to Salamanca in quest of a tutor's place I But why should I take the habit of a licentiate I Am I ambitious of consecrating myself tho the church j or have I the least bias that way I No. I feel myself, on the contrasy , quite otherwise inclined : I will turn gentle- man , and endeavour to make my fortune in the world. ,, Having resolved upon this , I longed for day with the utmost impatience ; and no sooner perceived the glimpse of light , than I got up , and made so much noise in the inn , that I wakened all those who were asleep. I called the waiters , who were still a-bed , and who loaded me with curses by way of answer. They were obliged to rise , however ; for I gave them no quarter , until one of them had gone for a broker , who soon appeared , ( 1 67 ) followed by two apprentices , carrying each a great green bag on his shoulders. He salu- ted me with great civility , saying , " Signior Cavalier; you are very happy in having ap- plied to me rather than to any other body. I don't chuse to disparage my brethren. God forbid that I should prejudice their reputation" ia the least ; but , betwen you and me, there is no conscience among them. They are all as abandoned as Jews. I am the only honest broker in town. I confine myself to a mode- rate profit ; being satisfied with a pound in the shilling — I mean a shilling in the pound. Thank Heaven ! I deal upon the square with all mankind. ,, The broker , after this preamble , wich I took for gospel , ordered his men to untie the buudles , and shewed me suits of all colours. Some which were of plain cloth I rejected with disdain , as being too mean ; but they made me try one which seemed to have been made exactly for my shape , and which struck my fancy , although somewhat worn. It consisted of a doublet with slashed sleeves , a pair of breeches , and a cloak ; the whole of blue velvet embroidered with gold. Fixing on this , I cheapened it ; and the broker, per- ceiving I was bent upon it, observed that I had an excellent taste. «, Odds bodikins ! » cried he , « one may see you know what you are about. I can tell you , that suit was made for one of the greatest lords in this kingdom , (;l68 ) who never had it three times on his hack, Examine the velvet , nothing can be finer j and as for the embroidery , you must confess the work is exquisite. » « What will you sell it for I » said I. He answered , « Sixty ducats : I am a rogue if I have not refused the money. » The alternative was plain. I offered five-and- forty, which might be'about double the value. « M r . What-d'ye-call-um, » replied the bro- ker , with an air of indifference , « I never exact too much ; I am always at a word. Here, » continued he , shewing me some of those I had refused , « buy this, I'll sell it a pennyworth. » This was only to excite my desire of purchasing that which I had cheape- ned j and accordingly imagining that he would not abate one farthing of his price , I counted into his hand the sixty ducats. When he saw me part with them so easily , I believe , in spite of his boasted honesty , he wished that he had asked a great deal more : pretty well satisfied, however , with having gained nine- teen shillings in the pound , he went away with his apprentices , whom I had not for- gotten. Having now a very handsome cloak , dou- blet , and breeches , I spent the rest of the morning in providing other necessaries. I bought a hat , silk stockings , shoos , linen , and a sword : after which 9 'having dressed , what infinite pleasure had I in beholding myself so well equipped ! My eyes (to use the expression ) ( i6 9 ) expression) could not sufficiently glut them- selves with my attire Never peacock contem- plated his own feathers with more satisfac- tion. That very day I made my second visit to Donna Mencia , who still received me very kindly, and thanked me again for the service I had done her. On that score many compli- ments passed on both sides , after which , wishing me all happiness , she bade me fa- rewell , and retired , without giving me any thing but a ring worth thirty pistoles , which she desired me to keep in remembrance of her. I looked very blank with my ring , having laid my accouut with receivings much more considerable present , and trudged back to my lodgings in a brown study , little satisfied with the lady's generosity. But just as I ente- red the inn , a man , who had followed me all the way , came in likewise , and laying aside the cloak in which he was muffled up , discovered a great bag under his arm. At the apparition of this bag , which had all the air of being full of money , I , as well as some other people who were present , stared with our eyes wide open ; and I thought I heard the voice of an angel , when the man , laying the bag upon a table , pronounced , « Signior Gil Bias , here is something that my Lady Marchioness has sent you. » I made many profound bows to the bearer , whom I over- whelmed with civility ; and he was no sooner H ( *7° 5 gone , than I darted upon the bag like a hawk upon his prey y and carrying it to my riiatn- ber , untied it , without loss of*time, and found in it a thousand ducats. I had just made an end of counting them , whem my landlord , who had heard what the porter said , came in to see the contents of the bag. Thunder- struck at the sight ot my coin spread upou the table, « Zounds , » cried he, « what a vast sum of money is here I You must be a devil among the women, » added he , with a sati- rical smile ; « for although you have not been four and-twenty hours in Burgos , you have a marchioness already under contribution. » This discourse did not disgust me 5 I was tempted to leave Majuelo in his mistake , which already gave me a sensible pleasure; so that I do not wonder that young fellows love to be thought men of intrigue. My innocence, how- ever , got the better o my vanity ; I unde- ceived my landlord , and recounted the story of Donna Mencia , to which he listened with great attention. I then disclosed the state of my affairs ; and , as he seemed to interest himself in my behalf , begged the assistance of his advice. Having mused a while, « Si- gnior Gil Bias , » said he , « I have a regard for you ; and since you have confidence enough in me , to unbosom yourself in this manner , I will , without flattery , tell you what I think you are fittest for. As you seem designed by nature for the court , I advise you to go ( »7' ) thither, and attach yourself to some grandee: but be sure either to meddle in his concerns , or enter into his pleasures ; otherwise you will lose your time. I know the great. They look upon the zeal and attachment of an honest man as nothing at all ; and miad only such as are necessary to them. » But you have another resource , » continuened he ; «you are young and handsome ; and these qualifications alone, without the least glimpse of understanding , are more than sufficient to captivate a rich widow, or some fine lady unhappily married: If love ruins gentlemen of fortune , it often maintains those who have none ; it is my ad- vice , therefore , that you go to Madrid : but you must by no means appear without atten- dants : they judge there , as in other places * by appearance ; and you will be considered only in proportion to the figure you make. I will recommend a servant to you — a faithful domestic — a prudent, sober fellow — in on© word, a man of my own making. Purchase a couple of mules , one for yourself, and ano- ther for him , and set out as soon as possible* This advice was too much to my own taste to be neglected . I therefore next morning bought two handsome mules , and hired the servant he had recommended : he was a fellow thirty years old , of a simple , religious as- pect , born ( as he said ) in the kingdom of Gallicia; his name was Ambrose de Lamela : far from being selfish 9 like other servants % H2 ( 17^ ) he made no words about his wages , but as- sured me he would be contented with what in my goodness I should think proper to bestow. Having provided myself likewise with boots , and a portmanteau to hold my linen and cash , I cleared with my landlord , and early next morning set out from Burgos , on my way to Madrid. Smollett. Description de Botany Bay. Botany Bay , so called by Captain Cook , who discovered it , from the great number of plants collected at this place , is situated on the eastern coast of New Holland, denomi- nated , by that celebrated navigator , New South Wales. The climate is undoubtedly very desirable to live in. In summer the heats are usually moderated by the sea breeze , which set in early ; and winter the degree of cold is so slight , as to occasion no inconvenience. The soil here is either swamp or light sand, and the whole face of the country is finely diversified by wood and lawn. The trees are all strait and without underwood, standing at such a distance from each other , that the whole country , at least where the swamps do not render it incapable of culti- vation , might be cultivated without cutting down one of them. Between the trees the ground is covered with grass , of which there ( »73) is great abundance , growing in tufts as large as can well be grasped in the hand , which stand very close to each other. In those places where trees are scarce , a variety of flowe- ring shrubs abound , most of them entirely new to an European , and surpassing in beauty, fragrance and number, all ever seen in an uncultivated state. Among these a tall shrub bearing an elegant white flower, which smells like English may , is particularly deli- ghtful , and perfumes the air around to a great distance. Some of our people , in the late expedition , went up the country a considerable distance; and found the soil to be much richer than that as above described by Captain Cook ; for 9 instead of sand , they found a deep black mould , which seemed very fit for the pro- duction of grain of any kind. The trees -were not of many species. Among others , there was a large one which yielded a gum not unlike that called dragon's blood. In the woods was found a tree which bore fruit , that , in colour and shape , resembled a cherry: the juice had an agreeable tartness 9 though but little flavour. Here are interspersed some of the finest meadows in the world : some places are rocky , but these comparatively few. Here are only two kinds of trees which may be considered as timber. These are as large as the English oak 5 and one of them H'5 ( i74 ) has not a very different appearance ; this is the same that yields the reddish gum , like sanguis draconis ; and the wood is heavy , hard , and dark coloured , like lignum vitce. The other grows tall and strait , something like the pine ; and the wood of this , which has some resemblance to the live oak of America , is hard and heavy. There are a few shrubs , and several kinds of palm. Mangroves abound towards the head of the bay. An officer belonging to Captain Cook , had the good fortune to kill with his gun , an animal , called by the natives kanguroo. It weighed only thirty-eight pounds , but some of them weigh not les than one hundred and fifty pounds. In running , this animal con- fines himself entirely to his hinder legs, which are possessed with an extraordinary muscular power. Their speed is very great, though not in general quite equal to that of a grey- hound : but when the greyhounds are so for- tunate as to seize them , they are incapable of retaining their hold , from the amazing struggles of the animal. The bound of the kanguroo , when pressed , has been measu- red , and found to exceed twenty feed. When young , the kanguroo eats tender , and well flavoured , tasting like veal ; but the old ones are more tough and stringy than bull- beef. They are not carnivorous , but subsist altogether on particular flowers and gras^* ( i?5 ) Their bleat is mournful , and very different from that of any other animal : it is howe- ver , seldom heard but in the young ones. Of the species of quadrupeds, there is the large uppossum , and also a kind of oppos- sum about the size of a large rat ; and what is very singular , this animal has a membra- nous bag near the stomach , in which it con- ceals and carries its young , when apprehen- sive of danger. There is a quadruped , which the natives call quoll. It resembles a pole cat. The back is brown , spotted with white ; and the belly w^hite unmixed. The only domestic animal they have is the dog , which , in their language , is called dingo and much resembles the fox dog of England. These animals are equally shy of strangers , and attached to the natives. Of bats , which hold a middle place bet- ween the beasts and the birds , there are many of differend kinds , particularly one, which is larger than a partridge. The country abounds with birds of various kinds , amongst whirh are many of exquisite beauty , particularly loriquets and cockatoos The water fowl are , gulls , shags ; soland geese , or gannets , of two sorts ; boobies , noddies , curiieus , ducks , pelicans of an enormous size , and many others. One of the most remarkable birds was black and white, much larger than a swan , and in shape H4 ( i?6) somewhat resembling a pelican. The land birds are, crows , parrots , pigeons , doves , quails , bustards ,. herons , cranes , hawks , eagles and a kind of ostrich. There are various sorts of fish; but , except the mullet , and some of the shell-fish, none of them are known in Europe. They are pa- latable , and some very delicious. Upon the shoals and reels are incredible numbers of the finest green turtle in the world , and oysters of various kinds , particularly the rock-oys- ter , and the pearl-oyster. The cockles are of such enormous size , that one of them was more than two people could eat. There are also large muscles , and stingrays , which weigh no less than 5oo pounds after the en- trails are taken out. In the rivers and salt creeks are alligators- Sharks of a very large size are found here. The Indians , probably from having felt the effects of their voracious fury , testify the utmost horror on seeing these terrible fish. Of insects , here is a very peculiar kind of ant , as green as a leaf. They live upon trees , where they build their nests. These nests are of a very curious structure : they are formed by bending down several: of the leaves , each of which is as broad as a man's hand : they glue the points of them together, so as to form a purse. The viscus used for this pur- pose is an animal juice , which nature has enabled them to elaborate* ( *77 ) Upon the leaves of the mangrove are great numbers of small green caterpillars : their foreheads are thick set with hairs , and they range upon the leaves , side by side , to the number of twenty or thirty together : the hair of their bodies , on touching them , have the quality of a nettle , and give a more acute, though less durable pain. The weapons used by the natives of Botany Bay are spears or lances , and these are of dif- ferent kinds. Some of th^m have four prongs, pointed with bone , and barbed. Others have but one point. The shaft is strait and light and from eight to fourteen feet long. These spears, or lances are dreadful weapons ; for, W^hen once they have taken place , they can never be drawn back , without tearing away the flesh , or leaving the sharp ragged splin- ters of the bone , or shell , which forms the beard , behind them in the wound. They are thrown with great force and dexterity. If intended to wound at a short distance, bet- ween ten and twenty yards , simply w jfh the hand ; but if at the distance of fourty or fifty , with an instrument called a throwing- stick. The principal means of annoying their European visitors , was by setting fire to the high grass in the neighbourhood of the place where the tents were fixed , which , being very dry , burnt whith great rapidity ■ and did much damage. H5 ( '78 ) Captain Cook during his stay in Botany Bay , caused the English colours to be dis- played on shore every day; and , at his de- parture , on the 6 th of May , 1770 , he orde- red the ship's name , and the date of the year , to be inscribed upon one of the trees near th watering place. Mullel Du port Jackson. As Botany Bay was the spot destined for the planting a new colony in this part of the globe , the fleet , fitted out by government for the expedition , sailed from England lit March , 1787 j and having , in the course of their voyage , tourhed at Teneriffe , Piia de Janeiro in the Brazils , and the Cape of Good Hope , reached and anchored in the bay 011 the 20 th of Jannuary , 1 788 , after a passage tit thirty-six weeks , in which a most arduous undertaking was effected with more success y and less loss, than hardly ever af-mded a fleet in such a predicament* Previous to the settlement on the spot under immediate consideration , an expedition up, the bay was deemed expedient , in order to explore the nature of the country , and select a place for carrying into execution their plan and design. None being discovered that ap- peared very convenient for the purpose, the governor and the lieutenant-governor pro- ceeded ia a boat to examine an opening to ( 179 ) which Captain Cook had given the name of Port Jackson , presuming that good ancho- rage might be found within. Nor did they search in vain ; for such was their account of the harbour , and the advantages attending the place upon their return , that a resolution was formed of evacuating Botany Bay the ensuing morning. At day break a general alarm was given , by te appearance of two ships of considerable size , standing in for the mouth of the bay , it being the prevailing opinion that they were Dutchmen , sent to assert a claim to the country. Their agitation of mind , however, ceased when the ships were found to be French , sent out by his most Christian Ma- jesty , under the command of Monsieur de Peyrouse. They dropped anchor the next mor- ning , just as our fleet got under weigh to work out of the bay , so that for that time , nothing more than salutations could pass bet- ween them. The passage from Botany B.:y to Port Jack- son was both speedy and pleasant. Having passed between the capes w r hich form its en- trance , the fleet arrived in a port , superior in extent and excellence , to all that had been observed before. During a run up the harbour of about four miles , in a westernly direction , a luxuriant prospect presented itself on the shores, covered with trees to the water's edge , among which , many of the Indians H 6 ( *8o ) Were frequently seen , till the fleet arrived »t a small snug cove to the southward on the banks of which the plan of operations was destined to commence. A small stream of fresh water runs into the head of the cove on which the establishment is fixed , and serves to divide the adjacent country to a little dis- tance , in the direction of north and south* On the east side of this rivulet the governor fixed' his place of residence. An officer ? with a body of men , was ordered to pat-role the country around ;. and the convicts were in- formed , that transgressors w r ould meet with the severest punishment. In spite , however , of all precautions , they soon found the road to Botany Bay in visits to the French ', though, from their known character , their company could not be very agreeable. During the time of their being on board ship , the two sexes had been kept most rigo- rously apart; but when landet, their sepa- ration was impraticable. To palliate, there- fore , the evils of their intercourse , marriage was recommended , and such advantages heki out to those who aimed at reformation , as have greatly contributed to the good order of the settlement. The necessary previous business having been transacted upon an appointed day , the commissions were read , and possession was* taken of the settlement in form. The marine battalion being, drawn up , and the convicts ( i«i ) assembled on the occasion. His Majesty's com« mission was read, appointing His Excellency Arthur Philip , Esquire, Governor and Cap- tain General in and over the territory of New South Wales and its dependencies $ together with the acts of parliament for establishing trials by law within the same ; and the pa- tents under the great seal of Great Britain , for holding civil and criminal courts of judi- cature , by wich all cases of life and deaih , as well as matters of property , were to be decided. The extent of this authority is defined in the governor's commission , to reach from the latitude of 4^ degrees 49 minutes south , being the northern and southern extremities of New Holland. It commences again at the i55 th de- gree of longitude east, and proceeding in an easternly direction , comprehends all islands within the limits of the above specified lati- tudes in the Pacific Ocean. As the discoveries of English navigators alone are comprised in this territory , it is presumed this partition will obviate all cause of future litigation bet- ween us and the Dutch. Appears , from the commission , considered in the whole , that government have been no less attentive in arming Mr. Philip with plenitude of power ^ than extent of dominion. It was found necessary to enforce the ri- gour of the law, in order to restrain the violation of public security. A set of despe- ( i8a) rate and hardened miscreants leagued them-? selves for the purpose of depredation ; and , as is generally the case , had insinuation enough to entice others , less versed in iniquity , to become instrumental in carrying it on. Their progress , however , was not of long dura- tion , as they were detected in stealing a large quantity of provisions at the time of serving them out , and being apprehended , one of the convicts impeached the rest , and disclo- sed the whole scheme. Of the four who were arraigned for the offence , three were con- demned to die 5 and the fourth to receive a severe corporal punishment. The governor however , desirous of trying the effects of lenity was pleased to order one only for exe- cution , which took place a little before sun- set , on the day the sentence was pronounced. The criminal was an old and desperate offen- der , and died with that hardy spirit which is too often found in the most flagitious and abandoned men. Two more the following day , were condemned to die for a similar offence. The approach of winter pointed out to the adventurers the necessity of interior quarters , as a security against the inclement weather they were taught to expect in this hemisphere though in so low a latitude. The erection of barracks , for the soldiers, was therefore pro- jected. But as these habitations were designed by ( i83 ) tlie governor merely to answer the exigency of the moment , the plan of the town was drawn , and the ground , on which it was hereafter to stand , surveyed and marked out. The governor invariably intent on explo- ring the country, having formed a party, with unwearied industry and great toil , tra- versed an extensive track of ground , whhh appeared , from such observations as could be made , capable of producing every thing which a happy soil and genial climate can bring forth. The face of the country was snch as to promise success , whenever it should be cultivated r*but the itinerants , to their great disappointment , finding not a single rivulet, were under the necessity of supplying them- selves with water from standing pools 9 with whi( h they met in vallies , supposed to be formed by the rains that fell at particular sea- sons of the year. The only quadrupeds they saw worth no- tice , were a few kanguroos. They observed, to their great surprise , indisputable tracks of the natives having been lately there ; though , in their whsle route r none of them were to be seen , nor any means to be traced , by which they could procure subsistence so far from the sea shore. A vessel sailed to an adjacent island to pro- cure turtle for the settlement , but after wak- ing there several days , returned without one, ewi^g, as was apprehended, to the advanced ( i84 ) season of the year. Fresh provisions were now become scarcer than in a blockaded town. The little live stock which , at so much ex- pence and with so many difficulties, had been brought on shore here , prudence for- bade the use of, and fish, which for a short time , had been tolerably plenty , were be- come very sarce ; so that had it not been for a stray kanguroo , which fortune now and then threw in the way , the people would, in general , have been strangers to the taste of fresh food. No wonder that the scurvy began its usual ravages , and extended its baneful influence through all descriptions of persons. To add to the calamity , the eatable vegetable productions of the country , neither abound nor are efficatious in the removal of this iisease. During these transactions , few enormous crimes were commit-ted by the convicts. A petty theft was sometimes heard of , and a* refractory spirit occasionally observed in some individuals I but only one execution took place. The crime was burglary ; the sufferer a young man , who met his fate with a hard- ness and insensibility , to be deplored in one educated , as he was , in a Christian country. The anniversary of the king's birth was celebrated with every expression of joy. The officers in general, were regaled at the go- vernor's table. Among other public toasts , was prosperity to Sidney Cove , ia Cumber- ( 135) land County , now so named by authority- Nor were the rejoicings confined to the officers. Four unhappy wretches , under sen- tence of banishment , were freed from their fretters , to rejoin their former society ; and three days given as holydays to every convict in the colony. Hospitality was universally ex- tended ; for each prisoner, male and female , received an allowance of grog ; and every non-commissioned officer ,andprivatesoldiar, had the honour of drinking prosperity to his royal master in a pint of porter, served out at the flag staff, in addition to the custumary allowance of spirits. Except in a single ins- tance, no bad consequence , nor unpleasant remembrance flowed from an indulgence so amply bestowed. Soon after this scene of hilarity , a melan- choly event took place. The whole stock of black cattle , consisting of five cows and a bull , had strayed into the woods , and, not- withstandind the most diligent search could not be found. A male convict , accused of theft , having eloped nearly at the same time, it was at first imagined that he had taken the desperate measure of driving off the cattle 9 in order to subsist on them as long as possi- ble , or perhaps to deliver them to the natives* Parties were sent in quest of him in vaia ; but, in the course of about twelve days , the crimi- nal made his appearance near a farm belon- ging to the governor , and intreated a con-* ( i86) Vict , who happened to be on the spot , to give him some food , as he was perishing with hunger. The man under pretence of compliance , went away , and gave neces- sary information 5 in consequence of which , a party under arms , was sent out , and ap- prehended him. When the poor wretch was brought in , he was greatly emaciated , and almost famished ; but , through the efficacy of proper restoratives , he was so far recove- red in the course of four days , as to be able to stand his trial , when he pleaded guilty to the robbery with which he stood charged , and received sentence of death; though it ap- peared evidently , in the course of his exa- mination , he had not the least concern in driving off the cattle. Another convict , who had sentence of death passed on him at the same time , for a burglary , was executed with his unfortunate fellow criminal on the following day. They both discovered an exemplary penitence. For the advancement of the progress of the settlement ^ the male convicts were divided into gangs , over each of which a person , se- lected by themselves , was appointed snpe- rintendaut. It is however candidly affirmed , to the honour of these unhappy people , that the behaviour of ail classes of them , since their arrival in the settlement , has been much better than could have been expected. MlLLEHj ( i87) De la Chine » China , an extensive empire in Asia , boun- ded on the north by Tartary , from which it is separated by a great wall , 5oo leagues in lenght j on the east by the Yellew Sea and the China Sea ; on the south by the latter sea , and the kingdoms of Tonquin , Laos , and Burmah j and on the west by Thibet. It is 2000 miles from north to south , and i5oo from east to west , and divided into i5 pro- vinces , which contain 4402 walled cities , divided into classes, the civil and military : the civil class contains 2045 , and that of the military 2557. The civil class is again divided into three other classes , namely , the first class , which are called fou ; the second, called tcheou ; and the third , which are called bicn. According to the statement of the popula- tion of China , delivered to Lord Macartney , at his request , by Chowta-zhin , a Chinese mandarin , and which was founded on docu- ments taken from one of the public offices in Pekin , the number of inhabitans in China is no less than 353,ooo,ooo. This estimate Sir George Staunton defends , and gives a variety of reasons , from circumstances almost pecu- culiar to China , to account for this wonder- ful population j observing , in conclusion , that from this statement it appears , that China ( i88 ) contains , upon an average , about one third more inhabitants , than are found upon aa equal quantity of land , in the most populous country in Europe. The climate and soil are various , as the different provinces are nearer to , or remote from , the south ; severe cold being felt at Pekin , while the southern provinces are ex- posed to excessive heat. Here are several large rivers , and where these are wanting , there are fine cannals. In several of the provinces , the land yields two crops a year; yet, though the husbandman cultivates it with such care , as not to lose the smallest portion of ground , China has been often desolated by famine. Its numerous mountains ( which are chie- fly in the north and west parts of the empire) contain mines of iron , tin , copper , quick- silver , gold and siiver : but those of gold and silver are not permitted to be opened ; the em- perors having alvays feared 3 that if the peo- ple should be exposed to the temptation of these artificial riches , they would be indu- ced to neglect the more useful labours of agri- culture. Quarries of marble, coal mines , la- pis lazuli , rock crystals , precious stones , and a kind of sonorous stoues , of which mu- sical instruments are composed , are abun- dant in China. They have potters earth too , of such various and superior kinds , that their celebrated fine poi'celain will ever remain unrivalled. ( 1 89 ) Beside the fruits , peculiar to the country, China produces the greater part of those ot Europe ; but ( excepting the grapes and po- megranates ) they are much inferior, Oran- ges were first brought us from China. They have also lemons , citrons , the tsetse , a kind of fig peculiar to China ; the li-tchi , of the size of a date , its stone covered with a soft juicy pulp of an exquisite taste , but dan- gerous when eaten to excess ; the long-yen , or dragons-eyes , its pulp white , tart, and juicy , not so agreable to the taste , but more wholesome than the li-tchi. The Chinese surpass us in the art of mana- ging kitchen gardens 3 and have a number of vegetables unknown to us. They cultivate even the bottom of their waters j the beds of their lakes , ponds , and rivulets , producing crops unknown to us , particularly of the pitsi , or water chestnut , the fruit of which ( found in a cover formed by its root ) is exceedingly wholesome and of a very delicate taste. Among the trees peculiar to China is the tallowtree , the fruit of which is contained in a husk , divided into three spherical segments 9 which open , when it is ripe , and discover three white grains of the size of a small wal- nut , the pulp of which has all the properties of tallow ; the wax-tree , producing a kind of white wax , almost equal to that made by bees ; the tsi-chu , or varnish-tree , which produces the admirable Chinese varnish : the ( *9° ) tic-ly-mon , or iron wood , the wood of which is so hard and heavy , that it sinks in water , and the anchors of the Chinese ships of war are made of it; the camphire- tree ; the bamboo-reeds , which grow to the height and size of a large tree , and beside being used as natural pipes to convey water , are employed for numberless other purposes ; the tea-plant, etc. with cotton , betel and ta- bacco : the flowering shrubs , flowers , herbs , and medicinal plants are too numerous to be recited. The mountains and wast forests abound of wild animals of every species ; but that va- luable quadruped , the musk deer , is peculiar to this country. Of their birds , the most beautiful in China, and perhaps in the world, is the kinhi , or golden fowl. The complexion of the Chinese is a sort of tawny , and they have large foreheads , small eyes , short noses , large ears , long beards , and black hair ; and those are thought to be the most handsome who are the most bulky. The women affect a great deal of modesty , and are remarkable for their little feet. The men endeavour to make as pompous an appea- rance as possible , when they go abroad ; and yet their houses are mean and low , con- sisting only of a groundfloor. Learning , with the arts and sciences in ge- neral , is much cultivated in this country. The governement is absolute , and tha emperor ( x 9 i ) has the privilege of naming his successor ; but the chief mandarin has permission to tell him of his faults. He looks upon his subjects as Lis children , and professes to govern them with paternal affection. Their empire is very an- cient , and they pretend that it existed many thousand years before Noah's flood : it is ge- nerally allowed to have continued /jooo years. The annual revenues of the crown , accor- ding to Sir George Staunton , are said to be 66,000,000 pounds sterling j and the army in the pay of China , including Tartars , amount to r, 000,000 infantry and 800,000 cavalry. Their religion is paganism. They allow po- ligamy , and keep their wives pretty close. The Chinese pretend to have a great vene- ration fort their ancestors ; and some keep images of them in their houses , to which they pay a sort of adoration. They have laws which regulate the civilities ad ceremonious salutations they pay to each other , for which reason they appear to be extremely good-na- tured ; and yet they are as deceitful as any people in the world, Their writing is very particular ; for every letter is a word , and consequently they have as many letters , or characters , as words in their language. All their towns are so much alike , that those who know one P are acquainted with all. ( '9* ) Description de Pekin* Pekin the metropolis of the empire of China, seated in a fertile plain, in the province of Petcheii , fifty miles from the great Wall. It forms an exact square , and is divided into two cities ; the first inhabited by Chinese , the second by Tartars. These two cities , exclu- sive of the suburbs , are computed to be six leagues in circumference. The height and thickness of the walls of the Tartar city ex- cite admiration : twelve horsemen might ea- sily ride abreast on them ; and there are spa- cious towers , a bowshot distant from each other. The gates of this city are high and well arched , supporting buildings of nine stories high ; the lowest of which is for the soldiers when they come off guard : they are nine in number , and before each is an open space , which serves for a parade. The streets in general eare as straight as a line. The grand street is 120 feet wide : and a league in lenght. The shops on each side of the street, furnished with a beautiful va- riety of porcelain , varnished ware , aud the richest silks , exhibit a most pleasing picture. Every tradesman places a shop-board before the door of his shop , containing , in large characters 7 an account of the different ar- ticles of trade that he has to dispose of. Incredible numbers of passengers throng the OgS ) the streets , but not a single woman is seen among the multitude. Persons who ride in chairs are often under the necessity of having a horseman to go before them to clear the way. Several causes combine to produce these crowds : as for example , besides the wast number of peasants who repair hither from the neighbouring country places , with their camels , horses , mules , and other beasts of burden , the greatest part of the mechanics instead of keeping to their shops , go about town in quest of business , carrying with them the several implements of their respec- tive professions. Barbers, for instance, g* about ringing bells to get customers ; they carry with them a stool , bason , towel , pot and fire ; and when any person calls to them t they run up to him , and placing their stool in a convenient place in the street , they shave the head , clean the ears , put the eye* brows in order, and brush the shoulders, all for the value of little more than an half-penny. They then ring their bell again ; and are ready for another customer. The tailors , who ply in the streets , go home to the houses of their customers , and do their work tl ere : they do not use thimbles as ours do , but tie a rag upon their thumbs j nor do they sit down to their work but sew standing , except when they grow tired ; the work is upon a table , and they stand close to it. All the great streets are guarded hy soldiers-, I ( '94 ) who patrole night and day with swords by their sides , and whips in their hands , to chastise those who make any disturbance , or take them in custody. The little streets have lattice-gates at their entrance into the great streets , which are shut up at night , and guarded by soldiers , who suffer no assemblies in the streets at that time. The emperor's palace and garden is sur- rounded by a brick wall , two miles in lenght, with pavilions at each corner , encompassed by galleries supported by columns : the archi- tecture of the stupendous pile of buildings of which the palace consists , is intirely different from that of the Europeans ; and they are co- vered with tiles of a shining beautiful yellow. The temples , and the towers of this city , are so numerous, that it is difficult to count them. The country about it , is sandy, and not very fruitful ; yet provisions of all kinds are exceedingly plentiful , they being , as well as the merchandise , brought from other parts by canals cut from the rivers , and always crowded with vessels of different sizes. An earthquake , which happened here in i65r, buried above 100,000 persons in the ruin of the houses. The inhabitants , of Pekin are estimated at two millions. A Russian church is established here whh a seminary, in which the students are permitted to reside for the purpose of ( J

and discovers the majesty of St. Paul's in a very striking manner. The cathedral of St. Paul is one of the most capacious, magnificent, and regular Protestant churches in the world. It is built of Portland stone , according to the Greek and Roman orders , in the form of a cross , after the model of St. Peter's at Rome , to which in some respects , it is deemed superior. This edifice is the principal work of Sir Christo- pher Wren , and undoubtedly the only work of the same magnitude that ever vas comple- ted by one man. He lived to a great age , and finished the building 5.7 years after himself laid the first stone. The expence of rebuil- ding it after the fire of London , was defrayed by a duty on coals , and is computed at a million pounds sterling. Westminster abbey is a venerable pile of building in the Gothic taste. It was first built by Edward the Confessor. King Henry 111 % rebuilt it from the ground ; and Henry VII > added a fine chapel to the east end of it > which Lei a nd calls << The Wonder of the world. » This is the depository of the decea- sed British kings and nobility , and here are also monuments erected to perpetuate the me- mories of poets , philosophers , heroes , and patriots. The inside of the church of St. Stephen % Walbrook , is admired for its lightness and ( 205 ) elegance. The steeples of St. Mary-le-Bow and St. Bride's are supposed to be the most complete in their kind of any in Europe. Few churches in or about London are without some beauty. Several of the new ones are built in elegant taste ; and even some of the ■chapels have gracefulness and proportion to recommend them. The parish churches in the Bills of Morta- lity, amount to, 146 j namely, 97 within the walls , 16 without the walls , 20 out pa- riches in Middlesex and Surry, and 10 in the city and liberties of Westminster. Beside these churches , is one belonging to the Tem- ple , a celebrated seat of law. It was foun- ded by the Knights Templars , in the reign of Henry II , upon the model of that of the Holy Sepulchre , at Jerusalem. There are likewise a great number of chapels for the established church, foreign protestant chur- ches, Roman catholic chapels, meetings for dissenters of all persuasions , and three syna- gogues fort the jews. The public schools are , that of St. Paul j Merchant Tailors school , in Suffolk- lane , near Cannon-street. The Charter-house ; the Royal school in Westminster ; and St. Mar- tin's school , near the Ring's Mews. The royal palace of St. James's is an an- cient building , on the north side of a small park? mean in external appearance ; but the apartments are said to be the best calculated ( 206 ) for regal parade of any in Europe. The royal town residence is a house at the west side of St. James's park, built by the duke of Buck- ingham , and purchased by the king in 1761 , when it received the appellation of the Queen's palace ; but is still frequently called Buckin- gham House. Carlton House , the residence of the prince of Wales , to the east of St. James palace , is a stately building, on which vast sums have been expended , but it is not yet completed. The Banqueting House , at Whi- tehall , begun in 1619, is only a small past of the wast plan of a palace , intended to be worthy of the residence of the British mo- narchs , but left incomplete. Westminster-hall , though on the outside it makes no very advantageous appearance , is a noble Gothic building , and deemed the largest room in the world , whose roof is not supported with pillars. Here are held the coronation feasts of the kings and qneens : also the courts of chancery, king's bench , common pleas , and excheqner , and adjoi- ning to which are the Houses of Lords and Commons. That beautiful column called the Monu- ment , erected at the charge of the city to perpetuate the memory of the dreadful fire of London In 1666 , is worthy of notice. This monument was begun by Sir Christopher Wren in 671 , and finished by him in 1677. The Pioyal Exchnge is a large and noble ( 20 7 ) edifice calculated for the transaction of corn, mercial business between the merchants of London and other places. To these may be added the Tower of Lon- don , an ancient fortress 9 once a royal pa- lace , now containing some public offices , a magazine and arsenal , the regalia of the kingdom , the mint , and a menagerie- The Bank of England Guildhall , the College of Physicians in Warwicklane , Christ's Hospi- ta, the College of Heralds ,the New Treasury, the Admiralty office , the Horse Guards at Whitehall , the Mansion-house ? or the house of the Lord Mayor , the Custom - house f Excise-office , India-house , Inns of court ? a great number of other public buildings , be- sides the magnificent edifices raised by the nobility and gentry. In the center of the town , and upon the banks of the noblest river in Europe 7 was a chain ot inelegant ruinous houses , known by \hc names of Durham-yard , the Savoy , and Sommerset-house. The first being private pro- perty, engaged the notice of an ingenious architect , who opened the way to a piece of scenery which no city in Europe can equal* On the side of Durham-yard was raised upon arches the pile of the Adelphi , celebrated for its enchanting prospect , the utility of itb wharfs , and its subterranenous aparte- ments , answering a variety of purposes of general benefit. ( 208 ) Contiguous to the Adelphi stands the Savoy, the property of government , hitherto a nui- sance ; and adjoining to the Savoy , towards the Temple , stood Somersethouse , where , being the property of government also , a new pile of buildings for public offices has been erected ; and here , in a very magnifi- cent edifice , called Somersethouse , are ele- gant apartments appointed for the use of the Royal Society , the Royal Academy of Pain- tings and Sculpture , and the Society of Antiquaries. Among the list of improvements worthy notice , may be included the Six Clerks-office in Chancery-lane ; and that very substantial building in the Old Bailey , which does ho- nour to a people celebrated for their clean- liness and humanity. Here the unfortunate debtor will no longer be annoyed by the dreadful rattle of chains , and by the more horrid sounds issuing from the lips of those wretched beings who set defiance to all laws , human and divine ; and here also the offen- der , whose crime is not capital 3 may enjoy a free open air. In the metropolis , and its environs , are many excellent charitable foundations ; parti- cularly St. Bartholomew's Hospital , near SmithlieM ; the Smallpox Hospital , in Cold- bath-fields , and another near Battle-bridge- Wells ; the Lying-in Hospital in BroWnlow- street , Longacre $ another in the City Road $ ( 2°9 ) ^nd a third near Westminster-bridge ; St* Thomas and Guy's hospitals in Southwark ; St. George's and the Lock near Hide-Park- corner ; the Middles ex Hospital in Totten- ham- Court - Road; the London Hospital at Mile end ; the Magdalen , for the reformation of prostitutes and the Asylum for the recep- tion of female orphans , in St. George's Fields. To these must be added , Bedlam , or Beth- lem Hospital , for lunatics , in Lower Moor- fields ; and St. Luke's , lately in LIpper Moor- fields , but now erected upon a large and ex- tensive plan in Old-street Road. The Foundling Hospital merits equal notice , as its plans and erections are equally laudable and liberal. The new buildings in the liberty of West- minster have , within these few years , increa- sed to a prodigious degree. Among them are several magnificent squares , as those of Ha- nover , Berkeley , Grosvenor , Cavendish , Portman , and Manchester. To the east of this last is Portland Place , the buildings , in which are deemed superior in grandeur to any in Europe. Besides the above squares there are St. James's , Soho , Leicester , Golden ; Bloombsbury 5 and Bedford ; to which may be added the magnificent square called Lincoln's - Inn - Fields , and several others of less note , both in the city and suburbs. The very elegant method of paving and en- ligthening the streets is felt in the most sen- ( 2X0 ) sible manner by all ranks and degrees of peo- ple. The roads are continued for several miles around upon the same model , and , exclusive of lamps regularly placed on each side , at short distances , are rendered more secure by watchmen stationed within call of each other, Nothing can appear more brillant than the lights when viewed at a distance , especially when the roads run across ; and even the principal streets , such as Pall - Mall , New te Bond-street, Oxford - street , etc. convey an idea of elegance and magnificence. The trading part of the city of London is divided into a number of companies. Of those there are 12 principal ; the mercers , grocers, diapers , fishmongers, goldsmiths, stationers ; merchant- taylors., haberdashers , salters , ironmongers , vintners and clothworkers. The city magistrates are the lord-mayor , 26 aldermen , 256 common-council men , a re- corder, two sheriffs , a chamberlain , a com- mon- Serjeant, and town-clerk. The city and liberties of Westminster are governed by a high-steward , a head-bailiff, a high-constable and 14 burgesses. Learned bodies of men , besides the clergy , are , the Royal Society , she College of Phy- sicians , and the Society of Antiquarians. The British Museum in Great Russei-street , Bloomshury ; and the Leverian or Parkinson's Museum in Great Surry-street ; Black-friars, are perhaps , the noblest of their kind in Eu- rope* ( 211 ) Such on a cursory of it , is the metropolis of great-Britain , to the extent and opulence of which many causes have contributed. From the openness of the country round , especially on the London side , and a gravelly soil , it is kept tolerably dry in all seasons , and af- fords no lodgment fort stagnant air or water. Its cleanliness , as well as its supply of wa- ter , are greatly aided by to situation on the banks of the Thames , and the New River , with many good springs within the city it- self , further contributes to the abundance of that necessary element. All these are advan- tages , with respect to health , in which this metropolis is exceeded by few. With regard to the circumstance of naviga- tion , it is so placed on the Thames , as to possess every advantage that can be derived from a seaport , without its dangers ; and at the same time , by means of its noble river > enjoys a very extensive communication with the internal parts of the country , which sup- ply it with all sorts of necessaries , and , in return , receive from it such commodities as they require. London is the seat of many considerable manufactures ; some almost peculiar to itself, others in which it participates with the ma- nufacturing towns in general. The most important of its peculiar manu- factures is the silk-weaving , established in Spitaifields by refugees from Fiance. A va- riety of works in gold ? silver , and jewelle- ry ; the engraving of prints ; the making of prints ; the making of optical and mathema- tical instruments , are likewise principally or solely executed here , and some of them in greater perfection than in any other country. The porter-brewery , a business of very great extent , is also chiesHy carried on in London. To it^port are likewise confined some branches of foreign commerce 5 as the vast East-India trade , and those to Turkey and Hudson's Bay. Thus London has risen to its present rank to the first city in Europe , with respect to opulence , and number of in- habitants. MULLER. Description de Pqris. Paris , the metropolis of France, is situated on the river Seine in the Isle of France , being one of the largest and finest cities in Europe. It derives its name from the ancient Parisis , and had formely , as it is imagined , the Latin name of Lutetia, from the wordlutum , which implies mud , as it was originally founded on a marshy soil. Paris has been the residence of the French monarchs for upwards of 800 years , that is ever since the reign of Hugh Capet. The river Seine , which crosses it , forms two small islands j and it is six leagues in ( 213 ) circumference , including the suburbs. The inhabitants are computed to be 800,000. There are nine principal bridges in Paris , two of which , and the most distinguished , occupy the whole breadth of th,e Seine ; na- mely , Pont Neuf and Pont Royal ; to which may be added , the new bridge 5 begun in 1787 , and called Pont de Louis Seize. But it is here to be observed , that all the names of buildings , squares , streets , etc. in compli- ment to royalty , have been changed , since tbe abolition of monarchy in 1792. The other bridges are, Pont St. Michel , Pont au Change , Petit Pont , Pont Notre Dame , Pont de la Tournelle , Pont Marie , and Pont Rouge, This last which is a timber bridge , painted red , is the point of communication between the Isle du Palais and Isle St. Louis. Among a great number of public fountains , tvyo only merit notice ; tliat of the Innocents, in which among other fine pieces of sculpture, is a Galatea by Goujeon ; and that of Gre- nelle, the performance of the celebrated Bou- chardon. There are three triumphal arches , erected to Lewis XIV , and known hy the names of Porte St. Bernard , Porte St. Denis, and Porte St. Martin. Of the squares in Paris ( once adorned with the statues of their mo- narchs ) the finest is the Place de Louis XV , of an octogon form , in which was an eques- trian statue , in bronze , of that monarch. This square , now called the Place de la Re- ( 214 ) volution , was the fatal scene ofihe execution of Lewis XVI , of his consort Marie Antoi- nette , and of his sister the princess Elisabeth. Beside the cathedral of Notre Dame , one of the largest in Europe , Paris has many fine churches. The new church of St. Genevieve, (now called the Pantheon) was destined by the National Assembly, in 1791 , to receive the remains of such great men as had meri- ted well of their country. The remains of Rousseau , Voltaire , and Descartes 4 , have ac- cordingly been removed hither. The cele- brated orator Mirabeau , and the sanguinary Marat were enterred here 5 but their bodies have been since removed and it has been decreed , that no person shall receive the honours of the Pantheon , until he has been dead ten years. The finest college in Paris is that of the Four Nations , called also Mazarin, from the cardinal , its founder. Among the public li- braries , that lately called the kings , holds the first rank , in respect both to the extent of the buildings , and the number of volumes. The Royal ( now National ) Observatory is built of freestone and neither iron nor wood has been employed in the erection. The Bo. tanical Garden is worthy of its late appella- tion of Royal. The four principal palaces are the Louvre ; the Tuileries , now the Palais National ; the Palais Royal , now the Palais d'Egalite ; and the Luxemburg , which has been recently con- ( 2i5 ) Verted into a revolutionary prison. The garden of the Tuileries in front of the palace , and on the banks of the Seine , is the finest public walk in Paris. The Palais Royal was long the property of the late dukes of Orleans ; and the interior courts have been embellished with many beautiful buildings , with shops , cof- ' fee-houses , and a garden , which render it like a perpetual fair. The Hotel-des-Invalides , for the wounded and superannuated soldiery , is a magnificent structure , built by Lewis XIV ; as is the Mi- litary School , in the Champ de Mars , founded by Lewis XV. The two principal theatres are the Theatre de la Nation and the Italian Theatre ; which , in point of elegance and convenience , are worthy of the capital of a great nation. The Monnoie or Mint , is also a noble building , situated on that side of the Seine , opposite the Louvre. The Hotel de Ville is an ancient struc- ture , in the Place de Greve , which was the common place of execution , till lately when the Place de la Revolution , and afterwards the site of the Bastile , were appropriated to that purpose. The most interesting of the manufactures of Paris is that of the Gobelins ( so called from a family of celebrated diers settled here in 1460 ) in which tapestries are made after the pictures of the greatest masters , to such perfection 9 that one , representing Lewis X V , ( ai6) a whole length , framed , and placed among the masterpieces of painting , was taken for many days , by multitudes of visitors , for a finished piece. The manufacture of plate-glass likewise merits attention. Paris is an archbis- hopric , and the seat of a university. It now forms , with a small district round it , one of the departments of France. Muller. Constantinople. Constantinople , the ancient Byzantium , one of the most celebrated cities in Europe , in Romania , and capital of the Ottoman em- pire. It is seated on a neck of land , which advances toward Natolia , from which it is separated by a strait , a mile in breadth. The sea of Marmora washes its walls on the south , and a gulf^of the strait of Constantinople does the same on the north. It is delightfully situa- ted between the Black Sea and the Archipe- lago. Constantine the Great chose this place for its residence , and rebuilt it after the model of Rome. It was taken , in i453 , by the Turks , who have kept possession of it ever since. The number of houses in Constantinople must be prodigious ', but ,|in general , they are mean , especially on the outside , were there are few or no widows , and the streets being narrow, gives them a melancholy appearance. They reckon that there are 5770 streets and lanes , ( 217) lanes , but they are seldom or never clean ; and the people are very often infested with ihe plague. The inhabitants , who are said to amount to 900,000 are half Turks , two thirds of the other half Greeks or Armenians , and the rest Jews. Here are a great number of ancient monu- ments still remaining, and particularly the su- perb temple of St. Sophia, which is converted into a mosque , and surpasses all the rest. It was built by the emperor Justinian, and tha Turks hold it in the same veneration as the Christians did , the grand Signior going there in person every Friday; the revenue belonging to it is very great , and it will contain 100,000 persons convenient^. The bazars , or bezesteins , are the markets for merchandise : they are large square build- ings covered with domes , supported by ar- cades and containing all sorts of goods, which are there exposed to sale. There is a market for slaves of both sexes ; and the Jews are the princial merchants , who bring ihem here to be sold. A great number of girls are brought from Hungary , Greece , Candia , Circassia , Mingrelia , and Georgia , for the service of the Turks , who generally buy them for their seraglios. The great square , near the mosque of sultan Bajazet , is the place for public di- versions. The grand signior's palace , called the K ( 218 ) seraglio , is on the seaside, and is surrounded by walls flanked with towers > and separated from the city by canals. It stands on the site of ancient Byzantium , and consists of an as- semblage of palaces and apartments placed by the side of one another without symetry and without order. The principal entrance of this palace is of marble , and is called Capi , that is , the port or gate , a name used frequently to express the court , or the empire. The ladies of the haram , or seraglio, are a collection of beautiful young women sent as presents from different provinces. Their num- ber depends on the taste of the reigning mo- narch. It has been from 200 to 5oo. On their admission they are committed to the care of eunuchs and old ladies , taught every accom- plishment , and furnished with the richest clothes. They sleep in separate beds , and bet- ween every fifth there is a preceptress. They are allowed no servants and therefore obliged to wait on one another by rotation. They are scarcely ever suffered to go abroad , except when the grand seignior removes from one place to another , when a troop of black eu- nuchs conveys them to the boats which are enclosed with lattices , and linen curtains. When they go by land they are put into close chariots , and signals are made at certain distances to give notice that none approach the roads through which they march. Among ( 2T 9 ) the emperor's attendants are numbers of mu- tes , who act and converse by signs , and some dwarfs for his own diversion. The circumference of this city is said to be 1 5 miles , and 5o with the suburbs included: the suburb , called Pera , is the place w T here the foreign ambassadors reside , two thirds of which was detroyed by a fire in March 1799. The city is built in the form of a trian- gle ; and as the ground rises gradually , there is a wiev of the whole town from the sea. It is surrounded with walls of free stone , here and there mixed with bricks , and flan- ked by 25o towers. There are 22 gates , six on the land-side , and the rest towards the sea. The palaces , mosques , bagnios , and caravansarais , are many of them magnificent* Mt T LLER. Des Pjramides d'Egypte. These pyramids are constructed on that ridge of rocks , which is the boundary of Libya , and generally called the pyramids of Giza. They are about 20 in number , but two of them have been principal objects of atten- tion. The folloving account concerning them , is related by a character eminent for rank and litterature. He writes thus : « We left Giza an hour after midnight 5 and scarcely had pro- ceeded a quarter of a league before we per- ceived the tops of of tha tw r o grand pyramids 5 K z ( 220 ) we were but three leagues from them , and the moon shone on them with full splendour. They appeared like two pointed rocks , with their summits in the clouds ; and the aspect of these antique monuments , which have survi- ved nations , empires , and the ravages of time , inspired veneration. We approached the pyramides , which , with aspect varying , according to the win- dings of the plain we traversed , and the situation of the clouds , became more and more distinct. At half past three in the mor- ning we found ourselves at the foot of the greatest. We left our cloaths at the door where it entered , and descended each with a torch. We proceeded till we came to a place where we were obliged to crawl , to pass into the second entry , which correspon- ded to the first. We then ascended on our knees , supporting ourselves with our hands against the sides , otherwise we were in dan- ger of sliding precipitely down an inclining plane, the notches or steps of which dit not afford certain foot - hold. We fired a pistol about the middle , the fearful noise of which was long reverberated among the cavities of this immense edifice , and which awakened numbers of bats , which were very large , that darting up and down , beat againts our hands and faces , and extinguished several of our lights. When come to the top we entered, through a Yery low door 7 a great oblong ( 221 ) chamber , entirely of granite. Seven enor- mons stones , crossing from one wall to the other , formed the ceiling. A sarcophagus , cut from a block of marble , is placed at one end. It has been violated by man , for it is empty , and the lid has been torn off. Bits of earthen vases are scattered round. Beneath this chamber is a lesser one , where is the entrance of a conduit full of rubbish. After examining these caverns , where the light of day never enters , and the shades of eternal night grow more thick and dark , we descended by the way we came , taking care not to tumble into a well which is on the left ? and reaches to the bottom of the pyramid. The air within this edifice being never changed, is so hot and foul as almost to suffocate. When \ye came out we were bathed in sweat , as pale as death , and might have been taken spectres rising from the abyss of darkness. Having eagerly breathed the open air , and refreshed ourselves , we hastened to scale , this mountain of man. It is composed of more than two hundred layers cf stone, that recede in proportion to their height, which is from four feet to two. These enormous steps must all be mounted to arrive at the summit , and this we untertook , begining at the north- east angle , which is the least damaged , but did not accomplish our task till after half an hour's severe labour. Day began to break , and the east gradually R3 ( 222 ) assumed more glowing colours. We sat enjoy- ing a pure air , and most agreeable coolness. The sunbeams soon gilded the top of Mokka- tam (a mountain which overlooks Grand Cairo) and soon rose above it in the horizon. We received the first rays , and beheld at a dis- tance , the tops of the pyramids of Saccara, three leagues from us in the Plain of Mummies The rapid light discovered every moment new beauties. The herds left the hamlets , the boats spread their sails , and our eyes followed the vast winding of the Nile. On the north were sterile hills , and barren sands ; on the south the river and waving fields. To the east stood the small town of Giza j and the towers of Tostat , with the castle of Salah Eddin , ter- minated the prospect. The universe contains not a prospect more variegated , more mag- nificent or more awful. Having engraved our names on the top of the pyramid , we cautiously descended, for the deep abyss lay be fere us : a piece of stone breaking under our hands , or beneath our feet , would have cast us down headlong. Once more safe at the bottom , we made the tour of the pyramid , contemplating it with a kind of terror. On a near view it seems composed of detached rooks ; but at ioo paces distant the largeness of the stones is lost ia the immensity of the structure and they ap- pear very small. » Many travellers and learned men , from ( 223 ) the time of Herodotus , the Greek historian , to the present date, have measured the grand pyramid, and the difference of their calcula- tions , far from removing , has but augmen- ted doubt concerning it. A modern writer of repute says that its perpendicular height is near 5oo feet. The second pyramid is about ten yards south of the first* The archildcture of it is much like the former , but it is greatly infe- rior m size. The third pyramid is said tho exceed the others in the beauty of its workmanship , but the rest contain no particulars worthy of de- scription. Each pyramid has its catacombs ( grottos or subterraneous cavities for the burial of tho mummies , or embalmed bodies ) The ope- ning at the side is hollowed in such a de- clined direction , that a person cannot descend into it, without being let down by a rope. Execution de Marie , reine d'Ecosse j son caractere* The earls of Shrewsbury and Kent , being introduced to Mary , told her to prepare for death next morning at eight o'clock. She seem'd not terrified , though somewhat sur- prised , with the intelligence. She said , with a cheerful, and even a smiling countenance, K 4 (224 ) that she did not think the queen her sister 3 whould have consented to her death , or have executed the sentence against a person who not subject to the laws and jurisdiction of England. « But as such is her will , » said she 4 death, which puts an end to all my mise- ries , shall be to me most welcome ; nor caa 1 esteem that soul worthy the felicities of heaven , which cannot support the body un- der the horrors of the last passage to these blissful mansions. » She then requested the two noblemen that they would permit some of her servants , and particularly her con- fessor , to attend her : but they told her , that compliance with this last demand was contrary to their conscience , and that Dr. Fletcher , dean of Peterborough , a man of great learning , should be present , to instruct her in the principles of true religion. Her re- fusal to have any conference with this divine , inflamed the earl of Kent's zeal ; and he bluntly told her , that her death would be the life of their religion ; as on the contrary , her life would have been the death of it. Mention being made of Babington , she constantly de- nied his conspiracy to have been at all known to her j and the revenge of her wrong , she resigned into the hands of the Almighty. When the earls had left her , she ordered supper to be hastened , that she might have the more leisure to finish the few affairs , which remained to her in this world , and ( 225 ) to prepare for her passage to another. It was necessary for her , she said , to take some sustenance , lest a failure of her bodily strength should depress her spirits on the morrow, and lest her behaviour should thereby betray a weakness unworthy of herself. She supped sparingly , as her manner usually was ; and her wonted chearfuluess did not even desert her on this occasion. She comforted her ser- vants under the affliction which overwhelmed them , and which was too powerful for them to conceal from her. Turning to Burgoin , her physician , she asked him , whether he did not remark the great and invincible force of truth. « They pretend , » said she , « that I must die , because I conspired against the queen's life : but the earl of Kent avowed 9 that there was no other cause of my death, but the apprehensions , which , if I should live , they entertain for their religion. My constancy in the faith is my real crime : the rest is only a colour , invented by interested and designing men. » Towards the end of supper she called in all her servants , and drank to them : they pledged her , in order on their knees ; and craved her pardon for any past neglect of their duty : 3ke deigned , in return , to ask their pardon for her offences towards them $ and a plentiful effusion or tears attended this last solemn farewel , and exchange of mutual forgiveness. Her care of her servants was the sole re- K 5 ( 226 ) maining affair , which employed her concern in this world. She perused her will , in which she had provided for them by legacies : she ordered the inventory of her goods , cloaths , and jewels to be brought her j and she wrote down the names of those to whom she be- queathed each particular : to some she distri- buted money with her own hands ; and she adapted the recompense to their different de- grees of rank and merit. She wrote also letters of recommendation for her servants to the French King, and tho her cousin the duque of Guise , whom she made the chief executor of her testament. At her wonted time she went to bed , slept some hours , and then rising ^ spent the rest of the night in prayer. Having foreseen the difficulties of exercising the rites of her religion , she had had the precaution to obtain a consecrated hoste from the hands of Pope Pius , and she had reserved the use of it , for this last period of her life. By this ex- pedient she supplied , as much as she could , the want of a priest and confessor , who was refused her. Towards the morning she dressed herself in a rich habit of silk and velvet , the only one which she had reserved to herself. She told her maids , that se would willingly have left them this dress rather than the plain garb which she wore the day before : but it was necessary for her to appear at the ensuing solemnity in a decent habit. ( «7 ) Thomas Andrews , sheriff of the county entered the room , and informed her , that tho hour was come , and that he must attend her to the place of execution. She replied , that she was ready ; and bidding adieu to her ser- vants, she leaned on two of Sir Amias Paulet's guards , because of an infirmity in her limbs; and she followed the sheriff with a serene and composed aspect. In passing through a hall adjoining to her chamber ,she was met by the earls of Shrewsbury and Kent. Sir Amias Pau- let , Sir Drue Drury , and many other gentle- men of distinction. There she also found Sir Andrew Melvil , her steward , who flung himself on his knees before her : and wrin- ging his hands , cried aloud : « ah ! Madam ! unhappy me ! what man was ewer before the messenger of such heavy tidings as I must carry, when I shall return to my native coun- try , and shall report , that I saw my gracious queen and mistress beheaded in England I » His tears prevented further speech ; and Mary too felt herself moved , more from sympathy than affliction. « Cease , my good servant , » said she , « cease to lament : thou hast cause rather to rejoice than to mum : for now shalt thou see the troubles of Mary Stuart receive their long expected period and completion. » Know continued she , « good servant , that all the world at best is vanity , and subject still to more sorrow than a whole ocean of tears is able to bewail. But I pray thee , carry Ktj ( 228 ) this message from me , that I die a true wo- man to my religion , and unalterable in my affections to Scotland and to France. Heaven forgive them , that have long desired my end , and have thirsted for my blood , as the hart panteth after the water brooks. » O God ! added she r « thou that art the author of truth , and truth- iself , thou knowest the inmost recesses of my heart : thou knowest t that I was ever desirous to preserve an entire union between Scotland and England , and to obviate the source of all these fatal dis- cords. But recommend me , Melvil , to my son , and tell him , that notwithstanding all my distresses , I have done nothing prejudi- cial to the state and kingdom of Scotland. » After these words , reclining herself ,. with weeping eyes , and face bedewed with tears , she kissed him. « And so , » said she , « good Melvil, farewel; once again, farewel good Melvil > and grant the assistance of thy pra- yers to thy queen and mistress. » She then turned to the noblemen who atten- ded her, and made a petition in behalf of her servants , that they might be well treated , that they might be allowed to enjoy the pre- sents which she had made them r and be sent safely into their own country. Having recei- ved a favourable answer, she moved another request , that they might be permitted to attend at her death : in order , said she , that their ®y$s may behold , and their hearts bear wit- ( 229 ) ness , how patiently their queen and mistress can bear her execution , and how constantly she perseveres in her attachements to her reli- gion. The earl of Kent opposed this desire , and told her , that they woul be apt , by their speeches and cries , both to disturb herself and spectators : he was also apprehensive y lest they should practise somme superstition . un- meet for him to suffer ; such as dipping their handkerchiefs in her blood: for that was the- instance which he made use of, « M v lord , » said the queen of Scots , « I will give my word ( although it be but dead) that they shall . not incur any blame in any of the actions which you have named. But alas ! poor souls , it would be a great consolation to them , to bid their mistress farewel. » And I hope , ad- ded she , « that your mistress being a maiden queen , would vouchafe , in regard of wo- manhood, that I should have some of my own people about me at my death ; I know , that her majesty hath not given you any such strict command, but that you may grant me a re- quest of far greater courtesy , even though I were a woman of much inferior rank to that which i bear. » Finding that the sari of Kent persisted still in his refusal , her mind , which had fortified itself against the terrofs of death , was affected by this circumstance of indignity , for which she was not prepared. « I am cou- sin to your queen , » ciied she , and descended from the blood-royal of Henry the s^enlb* ( 23o ) and married queen of France , and an anoin- ted queen of Scotland. » The commissioners perceiving how invidious their obstinacy would appear , conferred a little together , and agreed , that she might carry a few of her servants along with her. She made choice of four men , and two maid-servants , for that purpose. She then passed in another hall , where wa3 erected the scaffold , covered with black ; and she saw with an undismayed countenance , the two executioners, and all the preparations of death. The room was crowded with spec- tators , and no one was so steeled against all sentiments of humanity , as not to be moved , when he reflected on her royal dignity , con- sidered the surprising train of her misfortu- nes , beheld her mild but inflexible constancy, recalled her amiable accomplishments , or surveyed her beauties , which tough faded by years , and yet more by her afflictions , still discovered themselves in this fatal moment. Her warrant for her execution was read to her ; and during this ceremony she was silent , but shewed in her behaviour , an indifference and unconcern , as if the business had no wise regarded her. Before the executioners perfor- med their office , the dean of Peterborough stepped forth ; and though the queen fre- quently told him , that he needed not concern himself about her , that she was settled in the ancient Catholic and Roman religion , and ( 23l ) that she meant to lay down her life in defence of that faith j he still thought it his duty to persist in his lectures and his exhortations , aud to endeavour her conversion. The terms which he employed , were , under colour of pious instructions , very cruel insults on her unfortunate situation ; and , besides their own absurdity may be regarded as the most mor- tifying indignities , to which she was ever yet exposed. He told her ? that the queen of Eng- land had in this moment shewn a tender care of her j and notwithstanding te punishment justly to be inflicted on her , for her manifold trespasses , was determined to use every ex- pedient for saving her soul from that destruc- tion with which it was so nearly threatened i that she was now standing upon the brink of eternity , and had no other means of escaping endless perdition , but by repenting herself of her former wickedness , by justifying the sen- tence pronunced against her y by acknowled- ging the queen's favours, and by exerting a true and lively faith in Christ Jesus : that the scriptures were the only rule of doctrine, the merits of Christ the only means of salvation , and , if she trusted in the inventions or devices of men , she must expect in a moment to fall into utter darkness , into a place where shall be weeping , howlitig and gnashiug of teeth : that the hand of death was upon her , the ax was laid to the root of the tree , the throne ©f the great judge of heaven was erected 3 the ( 232 ) book of her live was spread wide , and the particular sentence and judgement was ready to be pronounced upon her : and that it was now during this important moment , in hep choice , either to rise the resurrection of life , and hear that joyful salutation : Come , ye blessed of my Father 5 or to share the resurrec- tion of condemnation , replete with sorrow and grief; and to suffer that dreadful denun- ciation , Go, ye cursed, into everlasting fire, During this discourse the queen could not forbear sometimes betraying her impatience ? by interrupting the preacher - 9 and the dean , finding that he profited nothing by his lec- ture , at last bid her change her opinion , re- pent her of her former wickedness , and settle her fait upon this ground , that only in Christ Jesus could she hope to be saved. She ans- wered , again and again T with great earnest- ness : « trouble not yourself any more about the matter : for I was born in this religion , I have lived in this religion , and in this reli- gion I am resolved to die. » Even the two earls perceived , that it was fruitless to harrass her any further wilh theological disputes , and they ordered the dean to desist from his unseasonable exhortations , and to pray for her conversion. During the deau's prayer , slie employed herself in private devotion from the office of the Virgin ; and after he had finished , she pronounced aloud some peti- tions in English, for ths afflicted church, £or ( 233' ) an end of her own troubles , for her son , and for queen Elisabeth ; and prayed God , that the princess might long prosper , and be em- ployed in his service. The earl of Kent obser- ving that in her devotions she made frequent use of the crucifix , could not forbear repro- ving her , for her attachment to that popish trumpery , as he termed it ; and he exhorted her to have Christ in her heart , and not in her hand. She replied wiih presence of mind , that it was difficult to hold such an object in her hand without feeling her heart touched with some compunction. She now began , with the aid of her two wom3n , to disrobe herself; and the execu- tioner also lent his hand , to assist them. She smiled , and said , that she was not accusto- med to undress herself before so large a com- pany , nor to be served by such valets. Her servants , seeing her in this condition , ready to lay her head upon the block , burst into tears and lamentations : she turned about to them ; put her finger upon her lips , as a sign of imposing silence upon them ; and having given them her blessing , desired them to pray for her. One of her maids, whom she had appointed for that purpose , covered her eyes with a handkerchief ; she laid herself down, without any sign of fear or trepidation; and her head was severed from her body at two strokes by the executioner. He instantly held it up to the spectators ? streaming with blood ( 234 ) and agitated with the convulsions of death : the dean of Peterborough alone exclaimed : « So perish all queen Elizabeth's enemies : » the earl of Kent alone replied , « Amen : » the attention of all the other spectators was fixed on the melancholy scene before them j and zeal and flattery alike , gave place to present pity and admiration of the expiring princess. Thus died , ( 1687) in the forty- fifth year of her age, and the nineteenth of her captivity in England 7 Mary Queen of Scots ; a prin- cess of great accomplishments , both of body and mind , natural as well as acquired ; but unfortunate in her life , and during one period , very nnhappy in her condnct. The beauties of her air , combined to make her the most amiable of women , and the charms of her adress and conversation , aided the impression which her lovely figure made on the hearts of all beholders. Ambitious and active in her temper , yet inclined to chearfulness and so- ciety j of a lofty spirit , constant and even vehement in her purpose ; yet polite , and gentle , and affable in her demeanor ; she seemed to partake only so much of the male virtues as to render her estimable , without relinquishing those soft graces which compose the proper ornaments of her sex. In order to form a just idea of her character , we must set aside one part of her conduct , while she abandonned herself to the guidance of aprofli- / ( 235 ) gate man , and must consider these faults , whether we admit them to be imprudences or crimes , as the result of an inexplicable , though not uncommon inconstancy in the human mind , of the frailty of our nature , of the violence of passion , and of the influence , which situations , and sometimes momentary incidents have on persons , whose princi- ples are not thoroughly confirmed by expe- rience and reflexion. Enraged by the ungra- teful conduct of her husband , seduced by the treacherous counsels of one in whom she reposed confidence , transported by the vio- lence of her own temper , which never lay sufficieutly under the guidance of discretion $ she was betrayed into actions , which may , with some difficulty be accounted for , but which admit of no apology , nor even of alleviation. An enumeration of her qualities might carry the appearance of a panegyric , an account of her conduct must in some parts , wear the aspect of a severe satire and invective. Her numerous misfortunes , the solitude of her long and tedious captivity , and the per- secutions to which she had been exposed on account of her religion , had wrought her up to a degree of bigotry during her latter years ; and such was the prevalent spirit and princi- ples of that age , that it is the less wonder , if her zeal , her resentment , and her inte- rest uniting, induced her te give consent to a ( 236 ) design , which conspirators , actnated only by the first of these motives , had formed against the life of Elizabeth. Mulllr. Conquete du Mexique. The great and extensive empire of Mexico was under the sole government of its own monarchs , till the Spaniards , under the com- mand of Fernando Cortez , invaded , and con- quered it. This expedition was undertaken with only 5o8 foot , 16 troopers and 108 seamen. Cortez with his forces landed on the coast of the bay of Campeachy , and having dispersed the natives with his artillery , mar- ched to the city of Tobasco , which he seized upon. The next day ihe Indians assembled an army of 4o,ooo men , with which they at- tacked the Spaniards ; but Cortez , at the head of the horse attacking them in the flank , they retired. The day after the battle the ca- cique , or prince , sent a solemn embassy to Cortez , to implore peace , attended with a present of such fruits and provisions as his country afforded , together with jewels , plu- mes and painted cotton linen , and whatever he thought most acceptable to the conquerors. The ambassadors approached Cortez as they used to do their gods , with golden pads or censers , in which they burnt aromatic gums , and other incense : the cacique afterwards came in person , and made his submission , ( 23 7 ) bringing him 20 bountiful Indian virgins 9 which he made Cortez a present of. One of these , whom the general afterwards caused to be baptized by the name of Donna Marina , served him , during the whole expedition , in the double capacity of concubine and in- terpreter , for she was a native of Mexico , a female of ready w T it , and understood the customs of the country , and the language perfectly well ; and indeed to her merit and address the Spaniards ascribe the success of their arms in a great measure. When the ca- cique of Tobasco camo to make his submis- sion , Cortez let him know , that he came from a powerful prince ; and that his princi- pal view was to make them all happy in this worih and the next , by making them sub' jects of the same sovereign , and converting them to the true religion. To this the frighted cacique answered , that he and his people should think themselves happy in obeying a king whose power and greatness appeared to such advantage in the valour of his subjects : but as to the point of religion , he gawe very little hopes of their conversion. Cortez , being about to advance still farther with his fleet on the Mexican coast , was un- der the greatest concern that he must leave those people before he had fully instructed them in the Catholic religion ; and on Palm Sunday, the day he appointed to embaik his troops he first caused an altar to be erec- ( 238 ) fed in the open field , where he celebrated high mass in the presence of the Indians , and all his troops marched in their ranks to the altar , with boughs or palms in their hands 7 to celebrate that festival : the procession see- med to excite to the natives the utmost awe and reverence , insomuch that some of them cried out* M This must be a great God , that such brave men adore. u Cortez sailed to the port of St. John de Ulva , where he landed , and Donna Marina acted as interpreter. When the general was informed that Montezuma , the emperor of Mexico , had sent to know the reason of the Spaniards invading his coun- try , he answered ambiguously , but still pre- served his design of penetrating iuto the coun- try. Montezuma, in all his messages , tried to prevent the Spaniards from coming to Mexico 9 and Cortez as inflexibly persisted in thatintent. Cortez foresaw that the Mexicans would not be able to prevent his approaching Mexico, especially as he was joined, about this time, by a cacique, or prince of the country , named Zempoala , who offered to enter into un alli- ance with Cortez against Montezuma , whom he represented as a cruel tyrant and oppressor. The cacique furnished him with 400 men to carry his baggage , and others to draw his artillery , there not being any beasts in this part of the country fit to di\^w carriages ; but every thing of this kind was done by the strength of men* ( 2 3g ) The general continuing his march by the seacoast to Vera Cruz , was joined there by about 3o caciques from the mountains , who re-inforced his troops with 100,000 men ; and some parties of Europeans hearing of the success of Cortez also voluntarily followed him thither , and joined his troops : whereu- pon he became so confident of his success , that he burnt all his ships , and having for- tified Vera Cruz , in which he left a small garrison , he began his march directly for the city of Mexico , being joined by the people of Tlascala , a country of great extent , who offered to become subjects of the king of Spain , at which Montezuma was so alarmed , that he offered to pay the Spaniards an annual tribute, amounting to one half of his reve- nues ; and when he found it;in vain to oppose the general's march , he thought fit to give him an invitation to his capital ; but Cortez , who was determined to have file plunder of the capital city , pretended that the Mexi- cans were not sincere in their invitation , but had entered into conspiracy to surprize the Spaniards , when they had drawn them into an ambuscade, and massacre them > and the- refore , immediately began hostilities , and cut to pieces some thousands of Montezuma's sub- jects. After this , the Spaniards , continuingi their march , were attended by several other caci- ques , and lords of the country , who com- ( 240 ) plained of the intolerable oppressions of Mon- tezuma; telling Cortez, that they looked upon him as their deliverer , sent from heaven , to restrain and punish the injustice and cruelty of tyrants : to whom he promised his pro- tection , and drawing near to Mexico , in order to strike the greater terror into the na- tives , he ordered his artillery , and small arms to be dtscharged , and caused several In- dians to be shot , that approached too near his quarters , w x hile he lay encamped at Ame- meca , on the borders of the Mexican lake. Here prince Cacumatzin , the nephew of Montezuma , attended by the Mexican nobi- lity , camo to the general , and bid him wel- come ; assuring him that he would meet with a very kind and honourable reception from the emperor ; but intimated , that there ha- ving been lately a great scarcity of provisions in the city of Mexico , occasioned by unsea- sonable weather , they could not accommo- date them as they desired ; and , therefore , entreated he woulhd defer his entrance into that capital , if he did not thiuk fit entirely to decline going thither. But Cortez appearing determined to advance , the prince seemed to acquiesce ; and the preparations for the re- ception of the Spaniards were continued. Cortez being arrived at Quitlavaca , a city situated on an islaud in the great lake , five or six leagues from Mexico , had some ap- prehensions that the Mexicans would break down ( 241 ) down the causeway , and remove the bridges on it j which would very much have embar- rassed him , because he could neither have advanced or retired in that case , especially with his horse and artillery. But the cacique of Quitlavaca , who appeared to be a friend of the Spaniards , very much encouraged th® general , telling him , he had nothing to fear ; that the prodigies in the heavens , the ans- wers ofthe oracles, and the fame of the great actions and surprizing arms of the Spaniards , had perfectly dispirited their emperor , and disposed him to submit to whatever the gene- ral should impose on him. Soon after Cortez entered Mexico , at the head of 45o Spaniards , and 6000 Tlascalans | when they were met by Montezuma himself , who was brought in a chair of beaten gold,, on the shoulders of his favourite courtiers. The conference between the emperor and the general was short , their speeches were suitable to the occasion , and the emperor commanded one ofthe princes , his relation , to conduct the general to the palace assigned for his residence , and then returned to his own palace. It was about noon that the Spaniards were brought to the royal house appointed for their reception , which was so spacious , as to con- tain all the Europeans and their auxiliaires : it had thick stone walls , flanked with to- wers : the roof of the palace was flat 9 and L ( 242 ) defended by battlements and breast-work | insomuch , that when the general had plan- ted his artillery , and placed his guards , it had very much the appearance of a fortress. Hither Montezuma came the same evening , and was received by Cortez in the principal square of the palace ; and that monarch having entered the room of state , and seated himself, ordered a chair for Cortez , and a signal was made for his courtiers to retire to the wall : whereupon the Spanish officers did the same ; and Cortez being about to begin his speech by his interpreters , Montezuma prevented him 5 by speaking as follows : « Illustrious and valiant stranger ! Before you disclose the important message , the great monarch you came from has given you in command , it is necessary some allowance be made for what fame has reported of us on either side. You may have been informed by some , that I am one of the immortal gods j that my wealth is immensely great , and my palaces covered w r ith gold : and on the other hand , you may have heard that I am tyran- nical , proud and cruel. But both the one and the other have equally imposed upon you : you see I am a mortal of the same species with other men ; and though my riches are considerable , my vassals make them much more than they are ; and you find that the walls of my palaces are nothing more than plain lime and stone. In like manner , no ( 243 ) doubt , has the seventy of my government been magnified ; but suspend your judgment of the whole, till you have an opportunity of informing yourself concerning it ; and you will find that what my rebellious subjects call oppression , is nothing more than the ne- cessary execution of justice. « After the same manner have your actions been represented to us : some speak of you as gods ; affirming that the wild beasts obey you : that you grasp the thunder in your hands , and command the elements , while others assure me , you are wicked , revengeful , proud , and transported with an insatiable thirst after the gold our country produces. s> I am now sensible ye are of the same composition and form as other men , and distiuguishedfrom us only by accidents which the difference of countries occasions. >> These beasts ( horses ) that obey you f are probably, a large species of deer, that you have tamed and bred up in such imper- fect knowledge as may be attained by ani- mals : your arms are made of a metal, indeed ? unknown to us , and the fire you discharge from them , with such an astonishing sound 9 may be some secret taught by your magicians. As to your actions , my ambassadors and ser- vants inform me , that you are pious , cour- teous, and governed by reason : that you bear hardships with patience and cheerfulness 9 and are rather liberal than covetous so that L 2 (244) we must, on both sides , lay aside our preju- dices and prepossession , and rely only on what our eyes and experience teach us » To this the general answered , a That it was true , various were the reports they had heard : some endeavoured to defame and asperse him , while others adored him. But the Spaniards , who were endowed with a penetrating spirit , easily saw through the different colours of discourse , and the deceit of the heart that they neither gave gredit to his rebellious subjects , or those that flattered him ; but came in his presence , assured that he was a great prince , and a friend to reason ; but very well satisfied , however , that he was a mortal , as they themselves were 5 that the beasts which obeyed him were not deer , but fierce and genejous animals , inclined to war , and seemed to aspire after the same glory as their masters. That their firearms were , indeed , the effect of human industry, and owed nothing to the skill of the magi- cian , whose arts were abominated by the Spaniards. » Having thus given some answer to the em- peror's speech , Cortez proceeded to inform him , « That he came ambassador from the most potent monarch under the sun , to desire his friendship and alliance : that there might be a communication and intercourse between their respective dominions ; and by that means , the Christians might have an oppor- ( ^4" ) iunity of convincing them of their errors , and, instead of blocks of wood , ( the works of men's hands ) instruct them to worship and adore the true God , the creator of the whole universe. That this was the first and principal thing fhe king his master commanded him to insist on , as the most likely means of esta- blishing a lasting amily ; that being united in principles of religion , their alliance might become indissoluble. » Montezuma replied , that « he accepted the alliance proposed by the king of Spain ; but as to the overture concerning religion, he totally objected to it ; » and making Cortez a rich present , returned to his palace. Cortez continued, for some time , very in- timate with Montezuma , often visiting the Mexican court ; and that monarch frequently came to the Spanish quarters , making pre- sents to the general , and to his officers and soldiers , exhibiting shews and entertaiments for their diversion. The Mexicans still treated the Spaniards with a respect that savoured of great humility and condescension. Monte- zuma spoke of their king with the greatest veneration. His nobility paid a profound res- pect to the Spanish officers , and the people bowed the knee to the meanest Spanish sol- dier. But an accident happened which very much lessened the esteem , or rather dread , the Mexicans at first entertained of these foreigners. L5 ( M6 ) * One of the emperor's generals , levying the? annual tax imposed on the vassal princes in that part of the countny , which lay in the neighbourhood of the Spanish garrison of Vera Cruz , these caciques , who had thrown ©ff their subjection to the Mexican empire , and entered into an alliance with -the Spa- niards , applied themselves to John de Esca- lante , governor of Vera Cruz , for protec- tion ; who thereupon marched out of that fortress , with 4 Q Spaniards , and 5 or 4«oo confederate Indians, to their assistance ; and though he had the good forrune of defeat the Mexican general , yet one of the Spaniards was killed, and his head sent up to the court 5 and the governor , with five , or six more of his garrison , were mortally wounded. This neyys being brought to Cortez , gave him grea£ uneasiness ; and the more , because he was informed , by the confederate Indians , that the Mexicans were consulting how to drive him out of their territories , which they did not apprehend to be impraticable since the engagement near Vera Cruz. The Spanish general , therefore , finding it impossible to maintain his authority among the Indians any longer, without entering on some action that might give them fresh cause of astonishment 9 and recover that reputation they seemed to have lost by that unfortunate accident , resolved to seize the person of Mon- tezuma , and bring him prisoner to his quar- ( 247 ) ters ; and accordingly , at an hour when the Spaniards were used to pay their court to that prince , Cortez , having given orders for his men to arm themselves without noise , and possess themselves of all the avenues leading to the palace , in small parties , that no no- tice might be taken of it , went to the Mexican court , attended by several of his officers , and 5o soldiers , whose resolution he could rely on , ftnd being admitted to the emperor's presence , he complained of the violation of the peace between them , hy one of the Mexican generals falling upon his confede- rates , and afterwards killing a Spaniard he had taken in cold blood. To which Monte- zuma answered , « That if any thing of that nature had been done , it was without his or- ders j and he was ready to make satisfaction for any injury that might have been done undesignedly , either to the Spaniards or their allies. » But Cortez gave him to understand, that nothing would satisfy them but his sur- rendering himself into their hands , and resi- ding with them in the palace assigned to the Spaniards for their quarters. Montezuma at first seemed astonished at the insolent demand , and remained for some time silent ; but recovering from his surprize , he said that princes of his rank were not accu- stomed to yield themselves up to a prison ; nor would his subjects permit this , even if he should forget his dignity so far. Cortez an- L 4 ( 248 ) swered , « if he would go along with them voluntarily , they were not afraid of any op- position his subjects should make ; and they would treat him with all the regard due to his dignity : lie might continue to exercise his authority as formerly, and no restraint should be put on his actions ; only for their security , he insisted that the emperor should reside amongst them. » Montezuma , still refusing to put himself into their hands , was given to understand , that if he would not , they would carry him off by force , or murder him if they were opposed ; whereupon he submitted to do what he found it was im- possible to avoid ; and gave orders to his officers to prepare for his removal to the Spanish quarters , whither he went in the usual state and voluntarily , to all appea- rance , except that he was attended by a company of Spaniards , who surrounded his chair. Montezuma , as must be easily supposed, , was rendered very miserable by this indi- gnity ; and his servants, lamenting their em- peror's hard fate , threw themselves at his feet , endeavouring to ease him of the weight of his fetters $ and though when he recovered from his first amazement , he began to express some impatience , yet, correcting himself, he acquiesced in his misfortunes , and waited the event ? not without apprehensions that there was a design against his lite : but Cortex ( *49 ) having seen his plan performed , by which he found he had struck such a terror into the Mexicans , that little was to be feared from them , he returned to Montezuma's apartment, and ordered his fetters to be taken oft ; and as some writers relate , he fell on his knees , and took them off with his own hands ; for which favour the emperor embraced and thanked him. But what is still more difficult to be believed , they assure us , that Cortei gave the emperor leave to return to his palace, and that he refused the offer out of regard to ihe Spaniards , telling them , he knew very well that as soon as he was put out of their power , his subjects vould press him to take up arms againts them , to revenge the wrongs he had suffered : nay , the Spanish historians positively affirm , that , notwithstanding all the injuries and indignities they had' offered to Montezuma , he expressed a more than ordinary friendship and regard for them , preferring their interest to that of his own subjects. De Solis , the Spanish historian 9 says, that Cortez gave Montezuma leave to go whiiher he pleased , which he seems to contradict in a very few lines afterwards : for he tells us , when that prince only desired to perform his devotions in one of his temples, it was gran- ted upon certain conditions , namely , that he should give his royal word to return to the Spanish ciuaters again , and from that day L5 ( 25o ) abolish human sacrifices $ and we make no doubt but they insisted on a third , viz. That he should take a guard of Spaniards with him ; for they acknowledge that a body of Spaniards actually attended him to the temple, Which they could do with no other view than that of securing their prisoner : though de Solis says indeed, it was at the request of Montezuma , that they went with him : nor did he ever go abroad without a Spanish guard , or without asking leave of Cortez ; or ever lay one night out of their quarters , by their own confession ; which they w^ould have us ascribe purely to choise , and his affection to the Spaniards , who had put such indignities upon him. They add that Cortez was now become his prime minister ; that $11 post of honour or profit were disposed of by him and his principal officers , who Were courted by the Mexican nobility, when they saw that no places or preferment could be had but by their interest ; which possibly might be true ; but surely it is much mure probable that Montezuma was influenced more by hk> fears than his affection for the Spa- niards. And we may observe from hence , that, with all these advantages , Cortez , and his Spaniards , might have established their poAver upon such a foundation , as could not easily have been overthrown , without such a deluge of blood as they spilt afterwards , if Cortez had been as able a politician as he was ( *5i ) soldier ; or if his benevolence and humanity had exceeded his cruelty and avarice. He seems to have left scarce any means untried for his security and establishment but the principal , namely , gaining the affection of the Indians , and winning them over to his party, as wel as to the Christian religion, by acts of generosity and beneficence. He was so careful of himself, that he caused some brigantines to be built on the lake of Me- xico , wereby he intirely commanded the lake , and the causeways leading to the city, and at the same time he increased his reputa- tion with the Mexicans by the artful manage- ment of those vessels ; for the Indians were , at this time , ignorant of the use of sails and rudders. ^ Don Diego Velasques , governor of Cuba , being informed that Cortez had met with great success in Mexico , and was endeavou- ring to render himself independent of him , declared him a rebel , and send Pamphilio da Narvaez, with 800 men , to reduce him , and take upon him the command ot the Spanish forces in Mexico. Whereupon Cortez leaving a garrison in the city of Mexico , and confi- ning Montezuma there , marched to meet Narvaez his rival , surprised him in the night- time , made him prisoner , and so corrupted the officers of the troops that came over with Nervaez , by the rich presents he made them, that they agreed to join Cortez. Thus re-in- L6 ( aS forced , he returned to the city f Mexico* again and now imagining himself powerful enough to subdue that empire by force , with- out courting Montezuma or his subjects , hQ treated that Monarch with great contempt. But some of the Spanish historians observe ^ that in this he committed a very great error : for had the general , on his returning in. triumph with such an addition of forces ,. entered into a treaty with that emperor and his nobility , they wrould have yielded to al- most any terms ; and he might have gained the dominion of that empire , for the king, of Spain ^ his master <> without any blood- shed. But he was too much elated with suc- cess to think of pacific measures. On the con- trary , he resolved to give the Mexicans all manner of provocations , and even rendered them desperate, that he might have a colour to destroy them , and seize all their posses- sions , whether lands or treasure. He found a garrison of 80 Spaniards able to repel the whole force of Mexico ; and he did not doubt , now he saw himself at the head of 1 100 Spa- nish horse and foot r with a multitude of con-' federate Indians , he should be able by force ^ to reduce the Mexicans ,. and make slaves of them. But he was near paying very -dear for his presumpiion ; for sending out a detachment of 400 Spaniards and confederate Indians in search of the enemy r who were retired, to* iarihest prfcqf the city , they wexe §ui> ( ^53 ) rounded , and in danger of having their re- treat cut off; and he himself , with the rest of his troops , very narrowly escaped being starved , or cut in pieces ; for the Mexicans , rendered brave by their despair , were not afraid to attack Cortezinhis quarters, though defended by a numerous garrison , and a train of artillery ; and when at any time , he- made a sally , he found intrenchments in the streets , and the bridges broken down , which rendered his cavalry , in a manner useless £ and though he usually came off victorious ? he found he had committed a very great error in shutting himself up in Mexico, from when- ce it was almost impossible to make his re- treat , and where he found it impracticable to fetch in provisions j the enemy being mas- ters of all the causeways that lead to the town t and of all the boats upon the lake ; so that if his people were not destroyed by the con- tinual attacks of the enemy , they must cer- tainly , in a short time be reduced by fa- mine. In this distress Cortez thought fit to endea- vour a reconciliation with Montezuma, and make use of the authority he still retained among his subjects , to induce them to lay- down their arms r and permit the Spaniards to march out of Mexico . , which,, it was pre- sumed , they would readily have come into , that they might get rid of a people; so much. dreaded , aa well as. hated % by them. Accox- (254) dingly , a parley being proposed and agreed to, Montezuma appeared on te battlements of the palace, and some of the Mexican nobi- lity advancing to hear what overtures he would make them , te Spaniards tell us , their emperor made a speech to his subjects , w T he- rein he greatly reprimanded them for taking up arms without his leave , though it was with an intention to obtain the liberty of their prince, declaring that he was, in reality, under no manner of restraint , but remained wih the Spaniards from choice j that he thought him- self obliged to shew the Spaniards this favour, on account of the respect they had always paid him, and out of duty to the prince that had sent them ; that their embassy being dis- patched , he was about to dismiss these fo- reigners from his court , and desired his sub- jects would lay down their arms , and not interupt their march, and he should readily pardon their having taken up arms , or to that effect. The Mexicans paid little regard to this speech. Whatever their emperor's words Were , they knew they wero put into his mouth by the Spaniards , whose prisoner he Was , and tended only to procure them a safe retreat ; and they were sensible , if they lost the advantage they had , they must never ex- pect such another opportunity of getting rid of these unwelcome guests. They had them now cooped up in this fortress ; where no ( 255 ) relief could be brought them and from whence it was scarce possible for them to retreat , if the Mexicans broke down the bridges and causeways upon the lake, and made such dit- ches and trenches in the streets , as the Spani- ards themselves had taught them , but foresaw if ever their enemies got over the lake again, they might not only receive fresh re-inforce- ments from Spain and their Indian allies , but they must engage them to great disadvantage in their open country , having nothing to op- pose their horse and artillery. The Mexicans resolved therefore , not to consent to a ces- sation of arms , but rejected the overture with disdain , as being framed only to give their mortal enemies an opportunity of escaping out of their hands 5 and re-inforcing them- selves to the destruction of their country 5 and they were so enraged at the overture , that they shot at their emperor for making it to them , and mortally wounded him. Cortez finding the Mexicans were not to bo amused with insidious proposals, from what hand soever they came , that his provisions were almost spent , and that it would be im- practicable to make his retreat in the day- time , resolved to attempt in the dark night. Having divided the treasure , therefore 9 amongst his men , w r ith which they were pretty well loaded , for it amounted to an im- mense sum , he issued out of his quarters at. midnight , the weather being extremely tern- ( 256 ) pestuous , whereby his march was for some time concealed ; but he had not advanced a mile upon the causeway , before he found himself attacked on every side by the Mexi- cans both by land and water , the lacke being: filled with their canoes or boats ; and as they had broke down the bridges , and cut the 1 cause-ways through , in several places , the Spaniards were in great danger of being enti- rely cut off. Cortez indeed ? had foreseen this , and provided a portable bridge to pass the breaches in the causeway , which was of great use to him in several places : but the Indians found means to destroy this bridge before they were all passed over , and their rear guard , consisting of 200 or 5oo Spa- niards , and 1000 confederate Indians , were cut in pieces. They also lost their artillery ,. prisoners , baggage , and treasure , with 46 horses. Cortez , however , with the best part of his force, broke through the Indians, and escaped to the other side of the lake. Some impute this loss to the avarice of his soldiers $ who were so loaded with gold and silver r that they could scarce make use of their arms; and possibly there may be some truth in it j but we believe, every one who considers his circumstances , must be of opinion , that he was very fortunate in escaping so well. Had the enemy provided a body of forces to op- pose him on the further side of the lake , he must inevitably have perished. % but they di$ ( 2 5 7 ) not expect his sallying out so suddenly , es- pecially in that tempestuous season , and were not therefore , provided to attak him. De Solis , the historian , endeavours to give us a very particular account of this ac- tion ; he admires the valour and conduct of Cortez and his officers , and informs us how every one distinguished himself in this memo- rable rereat. He proceeds to inform us, that they arrived just as it w r as day-light on firm land , and thought themselves very happy that there was no army to oppose ihem there , and that they were pursued no further , till they had time to form and recover them- selves from their consternation. This good fortune , it seems , w r as owing to the compassion the Mexicans expressed for the tw r o sons of Montezuma , and several princes of the royal blood , whom they found slaughtered among the Spaniards , w r hen ihe day-light appeared. The Mexicans relate that Montezuma himself was of this number ; and that the Spaniards murdered both him and his sons, when they found they could not carry them off. The Spaniards , on the other hand , say , that Montezuma was killed before by the arrows of the Mexicans : and that the princes , also , were accidentally killed in the engagement while it was dark , and they could not distinguish friends from foes. But however that was , it is agreed the princes ware found dead , pierced through with many ( 2 58) Wounds ; and te Mexicans deferred the pursuit of the Spaniards , to solemnize the obsequies of those two princes, or of Montezuma him- self. To which piece of piety Cortez and the Spaniards who were left aliye , in a great measure , owed their safety. The Spaniards having halted some time to refresh themselves, and taken care of their wounded men, continued their march towards Tlascala , the country of their faithful allies and confederates : but they had not advanced many leagues before they were again overta- ken , and attacked by the Mexicans , at a time when they were so fatigued and haras- sed , that had not Cortez taken possession of a temple, that very fortunately lay in his way , he would have found it difficult to have repulsed the enemy. But the Mexicans , finding they could make no impression on the Spaniards , as they lay intrenched within those walls, thought fit to sound a retreat. However , Cortez apprehending he should be distressed here for want of provisions , began his march again at midnight , with great si- lence , in hopes to have got the start of the enemy so far , that he should have reached the Tlascalan territories before they could have overtaken him ; but , to his great sur- prize , being arrived on the top of a very high mountain , he discovered the whole for- ces of the Mexicans , consisting of 200,000 inen , drawn up in battalia in the valley of (&9-) Otnmba , through which it was necessary fo pass r in his way to TIascala , whereupon Cortez made only this short speech to his officers , « We must either die or conquer ; » and finding an uncommon ardour in his sol- diers to engage , he immediately led them on. The fight was for some time bloody and obstinate ; and Cortez apprehending his men would be wearied out by the continual sup- plies of fresh forces , which the Indians pou- red in upon him , gave a surprising turn to the battle , by attacking the imperial standard, carried by the Mexican general , who was sourrounded by the nobility ; for having rou- ted them , killed the general , and taken the standard , the rest ot their troops turned their backs and fled , and were pursued with incre- dible slaughter by the Spaniards and their Indian allies , who made themselves ample amends with the spoils of the enemy , for the treasure they lost on retiring from the city of Mexico. Cortez now found it necessary to cultivate a good understanding with the caciques and princes of the country ? and to take their troops into his service ; and made himself master of such posts as might be of most ad- vantage to him reducing the city of Mexico $ and as he could not approach it by land , but on the causeways , he built i3 brigantines and sloops , whereby he became master of the navigation of the lake 9 and then attaked the ( 260 ) town by water as well as on the land side, having about iooo Spaniards in his army , and 200,000 Indian allies. He took the city by storm on the i5 th of August , i52i. One hundred thousand Mexicans perished in defence of the city ; and this conquest was attended with the submission of most of the neighbouring provinces , who consented to acknowledge themselves subjects to the king of Spain , ( the then emperor Charles V. ) The city of Mexico being thus reduced , Cortez distributed the plunder among his soldiers , reserving only a fifth , with the most remarkable curiosities , for the king , which he sent to Spain by some of his prin- cipal officers , together with an account of his conquest , and the state of that country , desiring his majesty would confirm the ma- gistrates he had appointed to govern it , with the grants of the conquered lands , and In- dian slaves he had made , to his soldiers. Among the rich jewels Cortez sent to the emperor . it is said , there was a fine eme- rald , of a pyramidal form , as large as the palm of a man's hand at the biggest end ; a noble set of gold and silver vessels ; several things cast in gold and silver , viz. beasts , fishes, fruits , and flowers ; bracelets , rings , pendants and other ornamental pieces of plate and jewels; some of their idols, cotton vestments of their priests, furs, and feathers oi various colours. ( 36i ) The general requested his imperial majesty to sent over persons qualified to survey the country , that it might be improved to the best advantage with the priests and missiona- ries for the conversion of the people ; as also cattle , with seeds and plants to improve the lands : but , it is said , he provided par- ticularly against the sending over physicians or lawyers. What could have been his reason against sending physicians is not easy to be conceived ; but he had certainly all the reason In the world to desire that neither laws or lawyers should be admitted there , having determined to treat the natives as slaves , and seize both their persons and possessions , and , indeed, to usurp an arbitrary dominion over both Spaniards and Indians in the New World. Mulleb. Portrait de la famille de Wakefield. I was ever of opinion that the honest man who married , and brought up a large family, did more service than he who continued single, and only talked of population. From this mo- tive , I had scarce taken orders a year , before I began to think seriously of matrimony , and chose my wife as she did her wedding-gow r n , not for a fine glossy surface, but such qualities as would wear well. To do her justice, she was a good-natured notable woman ; and 2 as for ( 262 ) breeding , there were few country ladies who at that time rould shew more. She could read any English book Avithout much spelling; but for pickling, preserving , and cookery , none could excel her. She prided herself much also upon being an excellent contriver in house- keeping; yet I could never find that we grew richer with all her contrivances. However, we loved each other tenderly, and our fondness encreased with age. There was in fact nothing that could make us angry with the world or each other. We had an elegant house , situated in a fine country 9 and a good neighbourhood. The year was spent in a moral or rural amusement; in visiting our rich neigh- bours , and relieving such as were poor. We had no revolutions to fear , nor fatigues to undergo ; all our adventures were by the fire- side , and ail our migrations from the blue bed to the brown. As we lived near the road , w T e often had the traveller or stranger visit us to taste our goose- berry wine , for which we had great reputa- tion ; and I profess with the veracity of an historian , that I never knew one of them find fault with it. Our cousins too , even to the for- tieth remove , all remembered their affinity , without any help from the Herald's office, and came very frequently to see us. Some of them did us no great honour by these claims of kindred ; for, literally speaking , we had tfae lame , the blind , and the halt , amongst ( 263 ) the number. However , my wife always insis- ted , that , as they were the same flesh and blood , they should sit with us at the same table. So that if we had not very rich , we generally had very happy friends about us ; for this remark will hold good through life , that the poorer the guest , the better pleased he ever is with being treated : and as some men gaze with admiration at the colours of a tulip , and others are smitten with the wing of a butterfly , so I was by nature an admirer of happy human faces. However, when any one of our relations w^as found to be a person of a very bad character , a troublesome guest , or one we desired to get rid of, upon his leaving my house for the first time ? I ever took care to lend him a riding-coat , or a pair of boots, or sometimes a horse of small value , and I always had the satisfaction of finding he ne- ver came back to return them. By this the house was cleared of such as we did not like ; but never was.the family of Wakefield known to turn the traveller or the poor dependant out of doors. Thus we lived several years in a state of much happiness ; not but that we sometimes had those little rubs which providenco sends to enhance the value of its favours. My orchard w r as often robbed hy schools - boys , and my wife's custards plundered by the cats or the children. The 'Squire vould sometimes fall asleep in the most pathetick parts of my ser- ( 264 ) in on , or his lady return my wife's civilities at church with a mutilated curtesy. But we soon got over the uneasiness caused by such accidents , and usually in three or four days we began to wonder how they vext us. My children , the offspring of temperance , as they were educated without softness , so they were at once well formed and healthy ; my sons hardy and active , my daughters beau- tiful and blooming. When I stood in the midst of the little circle , which promised to be the supports of my declining age , I could not avoid repeating the famous story of Count Abensberg , w T ho , in Henri II's progress through Germany , while other courtiers came with their treasures brought his thirty two children , and presented them to his so- vereign as the most valuable offering he had to bestow. In this manner , though I had but six , 1 considered them as a very valuable present made to my country , and conse- quently looked upon it as my debtor. Our eldest son was named George , after his uncle , who left us ten thousand pounds. Our second child , a girl , I intended to call after her aunt, Grissel ; but my, wife , who during her pregnancy , bad been reading romances , in- sisted upon her being called Olivia. In less than another year we had a daughter again , and now I was de termined that Grissel should be her name j but a rich relation taking a fancy to stand godmother , the girl was , by her di- rections , < a65 ) nections , called Sophia : so that we had tw© romantick names in the family ; but I solem* nly protest I had no hand in it. Moses was our next > and , after aa interval of twelve years , we had two sons more. It would be fruitless to deny my exultation when I saw my little ones about me ; but the vanity and the satisfaction of my wife were even greater than mine. When our visitors would usually say : « Well , upon my word , Mrs. Primrose , you have the finest children in the whole country. » = « Ay , neighbour , she w r ould answer , they are as heaven made them , handsome enough , if they be good enough ; for handsome is , that handsome does. » And then she would bid the girls hold up their heads ; who , to conceal nothing , were cer- tainly very handsome. Mere outside is so very trifling a circumstance with me , that I should scarce have remembered to mention it 9 had it not been a general topick of conversation in the country , Olivia , now about eighteen , had that luxuriancy of beauty with which pain- ters generally draw Hebe ; open , sprightly , and commanding. Sophia's features were not so striking at first ; but often did more cer- tain execution , for they were soft , modest 9 and alluring. The one vanquished by a sin- gle blow , the other by efforts successively- repeated. The temper of a woman is generally for- med from the turn of her features ; at least it M ( 266 ) was so with my daughters. Olivia wished for many lovers ; Sophia to secure one. Olivia was often affected from too great a desire to please ; Sophia even represt excellence from her fears to offend. The one entertained me with her vivacity , when I was gay ; the other with her sense , when I was serious. But these qualities were never carried to ex- cess in either j and I have often seen them exchange caracters for a whole day together. A suit of mourning has transformed my co- quet into a prude 9 and a new set of ribbands has given her younger sister more than na- tural vivacity. My eldest son George was bred at Oxford , as I intended him for one of the learned professions. My second boy Moses , whom I designed for business , received a sort of miscellaneous education at home. But it would be needless to attempt describing the particular characters of young people that had seen but very little of the world. In short, a family likeness prevailed through all ; and, properly speaking , they had but one charac- ter , that of being fall equally generous , cre^ duious , simple , and inoffensive. Olivier Goldsmith. Malheur de la famille TVakejield. The temporal concerns of our family were chiefly committed to my wife's management ; as to the spiritual, I took them entirely un- ( 26 7 ) der my own direction. The profits of my li- ving , which amounted to but thirty -five pounds a year , I gave to the orphans aud wi- dows of the clergy of our diocese ; for , ha- ving a sufficient fortune of my own , I was careless of temporalities , and felt a secret pleasure in doing my duty without reward. I also set a resolution of keeping no curate , and of being acquainted with every man in the parish, exhorting the married men to tem- perance , and fhe bachelors to matrimony : so that in a few years it was a common say- ing , that there were three strange wants at Wakefield , a parson wanting pride ^ young men wanting wives 9 and ale-houses wanting customers. Matrimony was always one of my favou- rite topicks , and I wrote several sermons to prove its utility and happiness : but there was a particular tenet which I made a point of supporting ; for I maintained with Whiston , that it was unlawful for a priest of the church of Englang , after the death of his first wife 9 to take a secound ; or , to express it in one word , I valued my self upon being a strict monogamist. I was early initiated into this important dispute , on which so many laborious volu- mes have been written. I published some tracts, upon the subject myself, which , as they ne- ver sold , I have the consolation of thinking are read only by the happy Few. Some of my M2 ( 268 ) friends called this my weak side ; but alas ! they had not like me made it the subject of long contemplation. The more I reflected upon it , the more important it appeared. I even went a step beyond W histon in displaying my principles : as he had engraven upon his wife's tomb that she was the only wife of William Whiston , so I wrote a similar epitaph for my wife , though still living , in which I ex- tolled her prudence , (economy , and obe- dience till death ; and having got it copied fair , with an elegant frame , jt was placed over the chimney-piece , where it answered several very useful purposes. It admonished my wife of her duty to me , and my fidelity to her ; it inspired her with a passion for fame , and constantly put her in mind of her end. It was thus , perhaps , from hearing mar- riage so often recommended , that my eldest son , just upon leaving college , fixed his af- fections upon the daughter of a neigbouring clergyman , who w r as a dignitary in the church , and in circumstances to give her a large fortune : but fortune was her smallest accomplishment. Mis Arabella Wilmot was flowed by all , except my two daughters , to be completely pretty. Her youth , health , and innocence , were still heightened by a complexion so transparent , and such a happy sensibility of look, as even age could not gaze on with indifference. As. Mr. Wilmot knew ( 26g ) that I could make a very handsome settlement on my son , he was not averse to the match; so both families lived together in all that har- mony which generally precedes an expected alliance. Being convinced , by experience , that the days ot courtship are the most happy of our lives , I was willing enough to lengthen the period; and the various amusements which the young couple every day shared in each Other's company seemed to encrease their pas- sion. We were generally awaked in the mor- ning by musick , and on fine days rode a limit- ing. The hours between breakfast and dinner the ladies devoted to dress and study : they usually read a page , and then gazed at them- selves in the glass, which even philosophers might own, often presented the page of great- est beauty. At dinner my wife took the lead ; for , as she always insisted upon carving every thing herself, it being her mother's way , she gave us upon these occasions the history of every dish. When we had dined, to prevent the ladies leaving us, I generally ordered the table to be removed ; and sometimes , with the musick-master's assistance , the girls would give us an agreeable concert. Walking out , drinking tea , country-danses , and forfeits , shortened the rest of the day , without the assistance of cards , as I hated all manner of gaming , except backgammon , at which my old friend and I sometimes took a two-penny hit. Nor can I here pass over an ominous cir- M 5 ( 270 ) cumstance that happened the last time we played together. I only wanted to fling a cjuatre , and yet I threw deuce ace five times runing. Some months were elapsed in this manner, till at last it was thought convenient to fix a day for the nuptials of the young couple, who seemed earnestly to desire it. During the pre- parations of the wedding , I need not describe the busy importance of my wife , nor the sly looks of my daughterr : in fact , my attention was fixed on another object > the completing a tract which I intended shortly to publish in defence of monogamy. As I looked upon this as a master-piece both for argument and style 9 I could not in the pride of my heart avoid shewing it to my old friend Mr. Wilmot , as I made no doubt of receiving his approbation $ but too late 1 discovered that he was most violently attached to the contrary opinion , and with good reason , for he was at that time actually courting a fourth wife. This, as may he expected, produced a dispute attended with some acrimony , which threatened to inter- rupt our intended alliance : but , on the day before that appointed for the ceremony , we agreed to discuss the subject at large. It was managed with proper spirit on both sides : he asserted that I was heterodox , I retorted the charge : he replied , and I re- joined. In the mean time , while the contro- versy was hottest , I was called out by one of ( ^71 ) My relations, who, with a face of concern , advised me to give up the dispute, and allow the old gentleman to be a husband , if he would, at least till my- son's wedding was over. «How , » cried I , « relinquish the cause of truth, and let him be a husband, already driven to the very verge of absurdity ! You might as well advise me to give up my for- tune as my argument. » z=z « That fortune , » replied my friend , « I am now sorry to in- inform you is almost nothing. Your mere-hand in town , in whose hands your money was hodged , has gone off, to avoid a statute of bankrupty , and it is thought has not left a shilling in the pound. I was unwilling to shock you or the family with the account till after the wedding : but now it may serve to mode- rate your wrath in the argument j for , I sup- pose , your own prudence will enforce the necessity of dissembling at least till your sou has the young lady's fortune secure. » =: 4 Well , v> returned I , £ if wh%t J9 U JfrU P© be true , and if I am to be a beggar , it shall never make me a rascal , or induce me to dis- avow my principles. I'll go this moment and inform the company of my circumstances ; and , as for the argument , I even here retract my former concessions in the old gentleman's favour , nor will I allow him now to be a husband either de jure , de facto , or in any sense of the expression. » It would be endless to describe the different M 4 ( 272 ) sensations of both families when I divulged the news of my misfortunes ; but what others felt was slight to what the young lovers ap- peared to endure. Mr. Wilmot , who seemed before sufficiently inclined to break off the match , was , by this blow soon determined : one virtue he had in perfection , which was prudence , too often the only virtue that is left us unimpaired at seventy two. Olivier Goldsmith. La famille de Wakefield change de demeure* T he only hope of our family now was ? that the report of our misfortunes might be malicious or premature ; but a letter from my agent in town soon came with a confir- mation of every particular. The loss of for- tune to myself alone would have been triflings the only uneasiness I felt was for my family , who were to be humble without such an education as could render them callous to contempt. Near a fortnight passed away before I at- tempted to restrain their affliction j for pre- mature consolation is but the remembrance of sorrow. During this interval , my thoughts were employed on some future means of sup- porting them ; and at last a small cure of fifteen pounds a year was offered me in a. (2 7 3) distant neighbourhood , where I could still enjoy my principles without molestation. With this proposal I joyfully closed , having determined to increase my salary by mana- ging a tittle farm. Having taken this resolution , my next care w r as to get togelher the wrecks of my fortune; and all debts collected and paid, out of four- teen thousand pounds , w^e had now but four hundred remaining. My chief aitenlion there- fore was next to bring down the pride of my family to their circumstances for I well knew that aspiring beggary is wretchedness itself. « You cannot be ignorant , my children » , cried I, « that no prudence of ours could ha\re prevented our late misfortune ; but prudence may do much in disappointing its effetcs.We are now poor , my fondlings , and wisdom bids us conform to our humble situation. Let us then without repining , give up those splen- dours with which numbers are wretched , and seekin humbler circumstances that peace with which all may be happy. The poor live plea- santly 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 genti- lity ; we have still enough left for happiness , if we are wise , and let us draw upon content for the deficiencies of fortune. As my eldets son was bred a scholar 9 I Rl & ( 274 ) determined to send him to town , where his abilities might contribute to our support and his own. The separation of friends and fa- milies is , perhaps , one of the most distressful circumstances attendant on penury. The 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 w T ith kisses , came to ask a bles- sing from me. This I gave him from my heart, and which 5 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 an- cestor, 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 i it will be your comfort on the way ; these two lines in it are worth a million : I have been young , and new am old ; jet never saw I the righteous man forsaken or his seed begging their breed. Let this be your consolation 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 w T as possest of integrity and honour , I was under no apprehensions from throwing him naked into the amphitheatre of life j for 1 knew he would act a good part , whether he rose or fell. His departure only prepared the way for > I testified the pleasure I should have in his company; and , my wife and daughters joining intreaty , he w r as pre- vailed upon to stay to supper. The stranger's conversation , which was at once pleasing and instructive , induced me to wish for a continuance of it ; but it was now high time to retire and take refreshment against the fa- tigues of the following day. The next morning we all set forward to- gether : my family on horseback , while Mr. Burchell r our new companion , walked along the foot-path by the roadside, obser- ving , with a smile , that , as we were ill mounted , he would be too generous to attempt leaving us behing. As the floods were not yet subsided , we were ohliged to hire a guide r who trotted on before r Mr. Burchell and I ( 2 7 8 ) bringing up the rear. We lightened the fati- gues of the road with philosophical disputes , which he seemed to understand perfectly. But what surprised me most , was that though he was a money- borrower , yet he defended his opinions with as much obstinacy as if he had beQii my patron. He now and then also infor- med me to whom the different seats belonged that lay in our view as we travelled the road* «That » , cried he , pointing at some distance ^ « belongs to Mr. Tornhill 7 a young gentle- man who enjoys a large fortune , thoug en- tirely dependeut on the will of his uncle , Sir William Thornhill , a gentleman , who , content with a little himself, permits his ne- phew to enjoy the rest 5 and chiefly resides in town. » = « What ! » cried I , « is my young landlord then the nephew of a man whose virtues , generosity , and singularities are so universally known I I have heard Sir William Thornhill represented as one of the most ge- nerous, yet whimsical men in the kingdom; 3flBp of consummate benevolence, » = « So- mething , perhaps , too much so,» replied Mr. Burchell : « at least he carried benevolence to an excess when young ; for his passions were then strong, and as they all were upon the side of virtue, they led it up to a romantick extreme. He early began to aim at the quali- fications of the soldier and the scholar ; was soon distinguished in the army, and had some reputation among men of learning. Adulation ( 279 ) ever follows the ambitious ; for such a ? one receive most pleasure from flattery. He was surrounded with crowds, who shewed him only one side of their character ; so that he began to lose a regard for private interest in universal sympathy. He loved all mankind ; for fortune prevented him from knowing that there were rascals. Physicians tell us of a disorder in which the whole body is so exqui- sitely sensible , that the slightest touch gives pain : what some have thus suffered in their persons , this gentleman felt in his mind. The slightest distress , whether real or fictitious , touched him to the quick , and his soul labou- red under a sickly sensibility of the miseries of others. Thus disposed to relieve , it will be easily conjectured he found numbers dispo- sed to solicit : his profusions began to impair his fortune , but not his good-nature , that , indeed , was seen to encrease as the other seemed to decay : he grew improvident as he grew poor ; and , though he talked like a man of sense , his actions were those of a fool. Still however,being surrounded with importu- nity, and no longer able to satisfy every requets that was made him , instead of money he gave promises. They were all he had to bestow , and he had not resolution enough to give any man pain by a denial. By this means he drew round him crowds of dependants ? whom he was sure to disappoint , yet wished to relieve. These hung upon him for a time 9 ( 280 ) and left him for a time , and left him with merited reproaches and contempt. But in pro- portion as he became contemptible to others , he became despicable to himself. His mind had leaned upon their adulation ; and r that support taken away , he could find no plea- sure in the applause of his heart , which he had never learnt to reverence. The world now began to wear a different aspect ; the flattery of his friends began to dwindle into simple approbation , that soon took the mors friendly form of advice \ and advice , when rejected , ever begets reproaches. He now therefore found that such friends f as benefits had gathered round him , were by no means the most estimable : he now found that a man's own heart must be ever given, to gain that of another* He now found , that — that — but I forget what I was going to observe : in short , Sir , he resolved to respect himself, and laid down a plan of restoring his shat- tered fortune. For this purpose , in his own whimsical manner he travelled through Eu- rope on foot r and before he attained the age of thirty, his circumstances were more affluent than ever. At present therefore t his bounties are more rational and moderate than before ; but still he preserves the character of an hu- morist , and finds most pleasure ineccentrick virtues. » My attention was so much taken up by Mr. Burchell's account , that I scarce looked (2Bl ) forward as we went along , till we were alar- med by the cries of my family , when tur- ning , I perceived my youngest daughter in the midst ot a rapid stream , thrown from her horse , and struggling with the torrent. She had sunk twice , nor was it in my power to disengage myself in time to bring her relief, My sensations were even too violent to per- mit my attempting her rescue : she would have certainly perished , Had not my com- panion , perceiving her danger , instantly plunged in to her relief, and , with some dif- ficulty , brought her in safety to the opposite shore, By taking the curreut a little far! her up, the rest of the family got safely over > where we had an opportunity of joining our acknowledgement to hers. Her gratitude may be more readily imagined than described : sha thanked her deliverer more with locks than words , and continued to lean upon his arm f as if still willing to receive assistance. My wife also hoped one day to to have pleasure of returning his kindness at her own house, Thus , after we w T ere all resfreshed at the next inn 5 and had dined together , as he was going to a different part of the country , he took 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 up on a I ( 282 ) could not but smile to hear her talk in this strain : one almost at the verge of beggary 9 thus to assume language of the most insulting affluence , might excite the ridicule of illna- ture ; but I was never much displeased with those innocent delusions that tend to make us more happy. Olivier Goldrmith. La famille de H^pkefield trouve le bonheur dans son humble fortune. The place of our new retreat was in a little neighbourhood , consisting of farmers who tilled their own grounds , and were equal 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 s ( till retained a primaeval 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 in- tervals of idleness and pleasure. They kept ut the Christmas carol , sent true love-knots on Valentine morning , eat pencakes on Shrove-tide , shewed their wit on the first of April , and religiously cracked nuts on Mi- chc.elmaseve. Being apprized of our approach , the whole neighbourhood came out to meet their minister , drest in their finest clothes , ( 283 ) and preceded by a pipe and tabour : a feast also was provided for our reception , at which, we sat cheerfully down ; and , what the con- versation 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 be- fore j on one side a meadow , on the olher a green. My farm consisted of about twenty acres of excellent land , having given a hun- dred pounds for my predecessor's good-will. Nothing could exceed the neatness of my lit- tle inclosures : the elms and hedge-rows ap- pearing with inexpressible beauty. My house consisted of hut one story ? and was cove- red with thatch ; which gave it an air of great snugness ; the walls of the inside were nicely white - w r ashed , and my daugh- ters undertook to adorn them with pictures of their own designing. Though the same room served us for parlour and kitchen , that only made it the warmer. Besides it was kept with the utmost neatness , the dishes , plates , 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 fort my wife and me , ano- ther for our two daughters , within our own, and the third , with two beds 9 for the rest of my children. ( 284 ) The little republick to which I gave laws * Was regulated in the following manner. By sun-rise we all assembled in our common appartment ; the fire heing previously kind- led by the servant. After we had saluted each other with proper ceremony , ( for I always thought fit to keep up some meehanical forms of good breeding , without which , freedom ever destroys friendship ) we all bent in gra- titude 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 al- ways ready at a certain time, I allowed half an hour for this meal , and an hour for din- ner ; which time was taken up in innocent mirth between my wife and daughters , and in philosophical arguments between my son and me. As we rose with the sun , so we never pur- sued our labours after it was gone down , but returned home tho the expecting family , where smiling looks , a neat heart, and plea- sant fire , were prepared for our reception* Nor were we wilhoutother guests: sometimes farmer Flamborough , our talkative neigh- bour , and often the blind piper , would pay us a visit, and taste ©ur gooseberry wine ; for the making of which we had lost neither the receipt nor the reputation. These harm- less people had several ways of being good. ( 285 ) company ; while one played the pipe , ano- ther would sing some soothing ballad , Johnny Armstrong's last good night , or the , cruelty of Barbara Allen. The night was concluded in the manner we began the morning , my youngest boys being appointed to read the lessons of the day , and he that read loudest 9 distinctest , and best , was to have an 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 w^ell 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 , ribands , bugles and catgut : my wife herself retained a passion for her crimson paduasoy , because I formerly happened to say it became her. The first Sunday in particular their beha- viour served to mortify me : I had desired my girls the preceeding night to be drest early the next day , for I always loved to be at church a good while before the rest of the congre- gation. They punctually obeyed my direc- tions j but when we were to assemble in the morning at breakfast , dow r n came my wife and daughters , drest out in all their former splendour : their hair plastered up with po- matum , their faces patched to taste , their trains bandied up into an heap behind , and rustling at every motion t I could not help smi- ( 286 ) ling at their vanity , particularly that of my wife , from whom I expected more discre- tion. In this exigence , therefore , my only resource was to order my son , with an im- portant air , to call our coach. The girls were amazed at the command ; but I repea- ted it with mofe solemnity than before. — 4k 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 very children in the parish will hoot after us for a show. » — « Indeed , » re- plied my wife, « I always imagined that my Charles was fond of seeing his children neat and handsome about him. » — « You may be as neat as you please , » interrupted I , « and I shall love you the better for it ; but ail this is not neatness , but frippery. These rufflings , and pinkings , and patchings , will only make us hated by all the wives of our neighbours. No , my children , » continued I more gravely , « those gowns may be al- tered into something ot a plainer cut ; for fi- nery is very unbecoming in us , who want the means of decency. 1 don't know whether such flouncing and shredding is becoming even in the rirh , if we consider , upon a mo- derate calculation , that the nakedness of the indigent may be cloathed trom the trimmings of the vain. »» ( 2 8 7 ) This remontrance had the proper effect ; ihey went with great composure , that very instant, to change their dress ; and the next day I had the satisfaction of finding my dau- ghters , at their own request , employed in cutting up their trains into Sunday waistcoats for Dick und Bill , ths two little ones ; and what was still more satisfactory , the gowns seemed improved by being thus curtailed. Olivier Goldsmith. De Vamour conjugal. Of all the pleasures that endear human life 9 there are none more worthy the attention of a rational creature than those that flow from the mutual return of conjugal love. When two minds are thus engaged by the ties of reciprocal sincerity 5 each alternately re- ceives and communicates a transport that is inconceivable to all but those who are in this situation : hence arises that heart-ennobling solicitude for one another's welfare j that ten- der sympathy which alleviates affliction , and that participated pleasure which heightens prosperity and joy itself. A good wife makes the cares of te world sit easy , and adds a sweetness to its pleasures: she is a man's best companion in prosperity , and his only friend in adversity ; the careful- lest preserver of his healt , and the kindest ( 238 ) attendant on his sickness : a faithful adviser fai distress ? a comforter in affliction , and a prudent manager of all his domestic affairs. Good-nature and evenness of temper will give you an easy companion for life ; virtue and good sense an agreeable friend ; love and constancy a good wife or husband, A married woman should not be desirous of attracting the eyes of any man but those of her husband. He that allows himself to taste those plea- sures which he denies his wife , acts like a man who would enjoin his wife to oppose those enemies to whom he has already sur- rendered. Julius Sabinus , having engaged the interest of the Gauls , caused himself to be proclaimed emperor of Rome ; but being defeated , he fled to his country-house , and set it on fire , in order to raise a report that he had perished. This scheme answered his end , for it was believed that he had there suffered a volun- tary death. But , in the man time , he lay con- cealed with his treasures ( for he was immen- sely rich ) in a cave , which he had caused to be dug in a solitary place , and which was known only to two of his freedmen upon whose fidelity he could depend. He might ea- sily have withdrawn into Germany; bul he could not prevail on himself to abandon his wife , whom he passionately loved. Sabinus , that no one might doubt of his death , did not , for ( 28g ) for sometime , even undeceive his wife, who solemnized his obsequies with great pomp , bewailed him with many tears; and , at last, no longer able to bear the loss of a husband for whom she had the sincerest affection , re- solved no to outlive him , and began to abs- tain from all food. This news alarmed Sabinus; and therefore, by means of MaYtialis , one of his freedmen , he informed her, that he was still alive , and acquainted her with the place where he lay concealed ; desiring her , at the same time , to suppress her joy , lest te secret might thence be betrayed. Empona heard the relation with inexpressible pleasure ; and , pretending business in the country , flew to her husband. The cave to her was then pre- preferable ta a palace , for there only she was happy. She went frequently to see him , and sometimes contrived to stay whole weeks un- suspected. She had even two children by him, who were born and brought up in the cave.. When at Home, she continued to bewail him as dead , and concealed the whole with exem- plary fidelity and wonderful address ; nay , she found means to convey him into the city, upon what motive I know not , and from thence back to this cave , so well disguised that he was known by no one. But after he had passed nine years in this manner, he was at length discovered by some persons who narrowly watched his wife , upon her fre- quently absenting herself from her own house , N ( ago.) and followed her to the cave without being discovered. Sabinus was immediately seized, and sent to Home loaded with chains , to- gether with his wife ; who throwing herself at the emperor's feet , and presenting to him her two tender infants , endeavoured by her tears an intreaties to move him to compassion, Vespasian , the emperor, could not help wee- ping at so affecting an objet ; nevertheless 7 he condemned both her and her husband , and caused them soon afterwards to be executed* Cyrus , king of Persia, had taken captive the young prince af Armenia, together with his beautiful and blooming princess , whom he had lately married , and of whom he was passionately fond. When both were brought to the tribunal , Cyrus asked the prince , what he would give to be reinstated in his king- dom I He answered , with an air of indiffer- ence , « That as for his crown, and his own liberty , he valued them at a very low rate ; but if Cyrus would restore his beloved prin- cess to her native dignity and hereditary pos- sessions , he should infinitely rejoice , and would pay , ( this he uttered with tenderness and ardor) would willingly pay his life for the purchase. » — When all the prisoners were dismissed with freedom , it is impossible to bs expressed how they were charmed with ( agi ) thetr royal benefactor ^ some celebrated his martial accomplishments; some applauded his social virtues ; all were prodigal of their prai- se , and lavish in grateful acknowledgement. « And you , » said the prince , addressing himself to his bride , « what think you of Cyrus I » — « I did not observe him 9 » said the princess. — « Not observe him ! Upon vvhat then was your attention fixed ? » — & Upon that dear and generous man , who declared that he would purchase my liberty at the expense of his own life* » What an idea of chastity ! and , at the same time , what a wonderful simplicity and deli- cacy of thought are here , in the answer of the young princess , who had no eyes but for her husband ! The beauties of History. Des aff actions de parente* ■ As the vexations which parents receive from their children hasten the approach oi age and double the force of years , so the com- forts which they reap from them are balm to all other sorrows and disappoint the injuries of time. Parents repeat their lives in their off- springs j and their concern for them is so near , that they feel all their sufferings , and taste all their enjoyments , as much as if they regar- ded their own persons. However strong we may suppose the fond- ness of a father for his children , yet .they siill N2 ( ^9 2 ) find more lively marks of tenderness in the bosom of a mother. There are no ties in na- ture to compare with those which. unite an affectionate mother to her children , when they repay her tenderness with obedience and love. Solon inquiring of Thales , the Milesian philosopher , why , considering the happy situation of his affairs , be had neither wife nor children ; Thales , for the present , made him ho answer. A few days after , he intro- duced a stranger , properly instructed , who said, that he came ten days ago from Athens* Solon immediately asked him what news h© brought from thence : « I know of nothing extraordinary , replied he , « except that the whole city celebrated the funeral of a young man , the son of a citizen , most eminent for his virtues , who , it seems , went abroad upon his travels. » « Miserable man ! » cried Solon : « but did not you hear his name I » " I did , ,, returned the stranger , u but I have forgotten it ; this I remember , that he was particulary famous for his wisdom and his justice. ,, — " Was it Solon I ,, said our philosopher. — " It was , ,, answered the stranger. Upon this our legislator began to discover all the symptoms of the deepest sor- row. But Thales interposing , with a smile , addressed him thus : " These , O Solon , are things which make me afraid of marriage and children , since these are capable of af- ( 2 9 3 ) fecting even so wise a man as you ; be not however concerned, for this is all a fiction. ,, Wheter on this occasion, or on the real loss of a son , is uncertain , Solon being desired by a person not to weep , since weeping would avail nothing, he answered with much huma- nity and good sense, " And for this cause I weep. „ Universal History* Cornelia , the illustrious mother of the Gracchi , after the death of her husband , who left her twelve children , applied herself to the care of her family , with a wisdom and prudence that acquired her universal esteem. Only three out of the twelve , lived to years of maturity ; one daughter 6 Sempronia , whom she married to the second Scipio Africanus ; and two sous , Tiberius and Caius , whom she brought up with so much care , that 9 though they were generally acknowledged to have been born with the most happy geni- usses and dispositions , it was judged that they were still more indebted to education than to nature, The answer she gave a Cam- panian lady concerning them is very famous , and includes in it great instructions for ladies and mothers. That lady , who was very rich , and still fonder of pomp and show , after having dis- played , ia a visit she made her , her dia- N3 ( *9k ) monds , pearls , and richest jewels 9 earnes- tly desired Cornelia to let her see her jewels also. Cornelia dexteiously turned the conver- sation to another subject , to wait the return of her sons , who were gone to the public schools. When they returned , and entered their mother's apartment , she said to the Campanian lady, pointing to them with her hand , " These are my jewels , and the only ornaments t admire. ,, And such ornaments , which are the strength and support of society ^ add a brighter lustre to the fair, than all tha jewels of the East. The beauties of History* De V amour filial. It may be truly said , that if persons are undutiful to their parents , they seldom prove good to any other relation. The honor which children are required to give to their father and mother 9 includes in it , love , reverence 9 obedience , and relief. It is usual with Providence to retaliate men's disobedience to their parents in kind : com- monly our own children will pay us home for it. vVhere shall we find the person who hath received from any one benefits so great , or so many , as children from their parents ? To them it is they owe their very existence , and ( 295 ) consequently all the pleasures and enjoyments of life. No one will expect a return of kindness 9 however considerable , from him who can show himself unmindful of what he oweth his parents. To see a father treating his sons like an elder brother , and to see sons covet their father's company and conversation , because they think him the wisest and most agreeable man of their acquintance , is the most amiable picture the eye can behold ; it is a transplanted self- love , as sacred as friendship 9 as pleasurable as love , and as happy as religion can make it* If every father remembered his own thoughts and inclinations when he was a son ? and every son remembered what he expected from his father when he himself was in a state of de- pendency ; this one reflection would keep fathers from being rigid, or sons dissolute, T. Manlius , the Roman dictator , having exqpcised great violence and cruelty over the citizen* , was cited at the expiration of his office to answer for his conduct. Among other things that were laid to his charge , he was accused of treating one of his own sons with barbarity. Manlius , it seems , had no other cause of complaint againts this son than his having an impediment in his speech. For this reason he was banished far from the city , from his home and the company of those of W"4 his own age and fortune , and condemned to servile works and a prison like a slave. All were highly exasperated against so severe a dictator and so inhuman a father , except the son himself, who moved with filial piety, and , under the greatest concern that he should furnish matter of accusation against his father, resolved upon a most extraordinary method to relieve him. One morning , without ap- prising any body, he came to the city, armed with a dagger, and went directly to the house of the tribune Pomponius , who had accused his father. Pomponius was yet in bed. He sent up his name , and was immediately admitted by the tribune , who did not doubt but he was come to discover to him some new in- stances of his father's severity. After they had saluted each other , young Manlius de» sired a private conference ; and , as soon as he saw himself alone with the tribune , he drew out his dagger, presented it to his breast, and declared he would stab him that mo my it , if he dit not swear in the form he shopld dic- tate , « Never to hold the assembly of the people for accusing his father. » Pomponius, who saw the dagger glittering, at his breast , himself alone without arms, attacked by a ro- bust young man full of a bold confidence in his own strength , took the oath demanded of him , and afterwards confessed whit a kind of complacency in the thing , and a sincerity ( 297 ) which sufficiently argued he was not sorry for what he had done , that it was that vio- lence which had obliged him to desist from his enterprise. Demetrius , king of Macedon , being im- prisoned by Seleucus , wrote a letter to his son Antigonus , commending to him the care of his concerns in Greece ; exhorting him to govern his subjects justly , to act always with moderation , and to look upon him ( his fa- ther ) as dead ; conjuring him never to part with any of his cities , or give up any thing to Seleucus to procure his liberty. But notwith- standing this letter might , in the opinion of the world , have freed him from all cen- sure , yet he immediately offered Seleucus not only all that he held in Greece, but his own person in hostage for his father's liberty. But this was refused. However , Antigonus con- tinued earnestly to solicit it by the most pressing and passionate importunities and offers , as long as Demetrius lived ; going in deep mourning during that space ( three years ) , and never once partaking of any feasts or diversions while his father was in prison. As soon as he heard of his death , and that his ashes were coming from Syria , he sailed with a noble fleet to the Archipe- lago , to meet them. He then deposited them in a golden urn 9 which , when he entered N5 (2 9 8 ) the harbour of Corinth , he placed in the poop of the royal galley, set his crown upon it , and covered it with a canopy of purple, himself standing by, clothed in deep mourning and his eyes red with tears. It is worth observing , that Demetrius like- wise had rendered himself very remarkable for his filial piety : for we are told by Plu- tarch , Justin , and others that Demetrius was. not only dutiful and loyal to his father , but had so warm an affection for his person , that he was , in the strictest sense of the words , his father's best friend. As all degrees of bliss are either heightened or lessened by compa- rison > so the happiness of Antigonus ( the father of Demetrius ) in this respect , appeared with the brighter lustre on account of the fa- mily dissensions in the courts of his several rivals. Of this he was so sensible , that having given audience one day to the ambassadors ot Cassander , Ptolemy and Lysimachus , and they being withdrawn , he ordered them to be called back , because his son Demetrius , coming in warm from hunting , went into his father's apartment, saluted him , and then sat down with his javelin in his hand. When the ambassadors demanded what his pleasure Was , « Tell your masters , » said Antigo- nus , for , perhaps , few princes ever exhibited greater instances of an admirable and virtuous conduct. Cemcu , who was a disciple of, and commentator upon their celebrated philoso- pher Confucius , gives us the following in- stance of brotherly affection. The king of Cucho had three sons , and , like many other parents having most affec- tion for the youngest , some da^s before his death declared him his successor , to the ex- clusion of his brethren. This proceeding was the more extraordinary , as it was contrary to the laws of the kingdom. The people , therefore , thought that after the death of the king , they might without any crime raise the eldest son to the throne. This design was universally approved of ; but the new king calling to mind his father's last words , re- jected the offer , and , taking the crown , placed it on the head of his youngest brother; publickly declaring that he renounced it , and thought himself unworthy of it , as he was excluded by his father's will j and his father ( 3o6 ) could not now retract what he had done. His brother, being affected with such a generous action , instantly intreated him not to oppose the iclination of the people , who desired him for their ruler. He urged , that he alone was the lawful successor to the crown which he refused , and that their father could not in- fringe the laws of the kingdom ; that he had been betrayed by an extravagant fondness ; and that , in a word , the people had the power of redressing any breach in the esta- blished law. Nothing , however, was capable of persuading his brother to accept of the crown. There was a glorious contest between the two princes ; and as they preceived that the dispute would be endless , they retired from court: thus each having both conquered and been vanquished , they went to end their days together in peaceful -solitude , and left the kingdom to their other brother. The beauties of history, De V ambition. Ambition to rule is more vehement than malice to revenge. It must be confessed, that no passion has produced more dreadful ef- fects than ambition ; and yet , methinks, am- bition is not a vice but in a vicious mind. In a virtuous mind it is a virtue , and will be found to take its merit from the character in which it is mixed. ( 3o 7 ) — — Ambition is at distance A goodh* prospect , tempting to the view : The height delights us , and the mountain top Looks beautiful , because 'lis nigh to heaven 5 But we ne'er look how sand}'s the foundation , What storms will batter and what tempests shake us ! When wild ambition in the heart we find , Farewell content and quiet of the mind : For glittering clouds we leave the solid shore y And wonted happiness returns no more. Ambition is the dropsy of the soul, Whose thirst, we must not yield to , but controul. Be prudent, and the shore in prospect keep. In a wenk boat trust not the deep : Plac'd beneath envy , above envying rise ; Pity great men, great things despise. M. Manlius was a patrician of one of the most illustrious houses in home. He had been consul , and had acquired very great reputa- tion by many glorius exploits , and in parti- cular by the signal service he had done his country in saving the Capitol , when upon the point of being taken by the Gauls \ but a secret vanity and ambition , which Manlius suffered to take root in his heart , corrupted all his great qualities , and entirely sullied his glory. As he did not believe himself so much considered by the senators as he deser- ved , threw himself into a party of the peo- ple , and entered into a strict union with the tribunes. He spoke contemptuously of the senators , and flattered ^the multitude. In a word , he chose rather to have a great than ( 3o8 ) a good reputation : nothing would satisfy him but the supreme authority. The measures , however , which he employed to accomplish his design were so ill concerted , that Manlius was cited before the dictator to ansver for his conduct. He had the rashness to say , in the assemblies which he held in his own house , that the senators had appropriated the gold intended for the payment of the auxiliary troops, to their own use , and concealed great treasures which belonged to the public, Man- lius was ordered to make good his charge ; which not being able to do , he was com- mitted to prison as a seditious person and a false accuser. Seeing himself seized by the dictator's officer , he omitted nothing to make the people rise in his defense. He invoked all the gods that inhabited the Capitol , imploring them to aid him , who had so courageously defended them. « How ! » said he , « shall the hand that has preserved your temples from the fury of the Gauls be disgraced with vile chains ! p The whole people were penetrated with the most lively affliction. Multitudes passed not only the day , but even the night , round the prison , and menaced to break down the gates. The senate chose to grant them that of their own accord , which ihey were upon the point of taking by force , and caused Manlius to be set at liberty. But by that timo- rous policy , instead of appeasing the sedi- tion , they only gave it a head. Manlius , re- ( 3o 9 ) leased from prison , grew more violent and less cautious : in short , his design to overturn the government and enslave the people was so evident that he was again seized and im- prisoned. He now began to lose all hopes , and the people's eyes were fully opened ; they saw they had been deceived. As for Manlius 9 when he came to take his trial , he appeared in a mourning habit ; but without a single senator , relation 9 friend , or even his own brothers along with him , to express concern for his fate. So much did the love of liberty, and the fear of being enslaved , prevail in the hearts of the Romans over all the ties of blood and nature ! After a fair hearing, he was condemned to be thrown from the top of the Capitol ; and the same place which had been the theatre of his glory , became that of his shame and infamy. Such was the end of a man who might have been the ornament of his country , if he had not been born in a free state. We here see how many glorious and excellent qualities the lust of reigning rendered not only fruitless , but odious and detestable. The beauties of history. Marius , so famous in the Roman history, was a man that had but one passion , the de- sire of aggrandizing himself , to w r hich he never made any scruple to sacrifice every ( 3io ) thing : for he never knew either integrity, sin- cerity , or gratitude , when the pursuit o.f his views were in question. It was this ambition that made him quit the plough and take up the profession of arms , by which he was in hopes of making his fortune. He succeeded beyond ail his expectations : but after having passed through every honor in the Roman government , having acquired a considerable fortune , and made a good alliance by mar- rying Julia , Caesar's aunt 5 instead of his being satisfied with his uncommon success , and enjoying the fruits of his toils and dan- gers , at the age of seventy , when he was become exceedingly gross and heavy , and oppressed with many infirmities , he was de- termined to take on him the war againts Mi- thridates , king of Pontus. He imagined , that this war furnished an occasion of acquiring great glory and riches , without much dan- ger. But Sylla , as consul , was general of the Roman armies , and had a just right to appropriate the first and most glorious pro- vince to himself; he was likewise appointed to this command by the senate. Marius oppo- sed him. The contest ran high and a civil war ensued. Sylla besieges the city of Rome , ad Marius is obliged to save himself by flight. Sylla makes an alteration in the government, and an order is issued out in all the cities of Italy , to seize and kill Marius wherever he should be found. After wandering from place ( 3n ) to place , and suffering a variety of difficul- ties , dangers and distresses , both by sea and land , he is at last treacherously set on shore in the province of an enemy ; without aid , without defence , and abandoned by all the world. He , however , did not abandon himself; but crossing marshes , ditches full of water , and muddy grounds , he came at length to a poor woodcleaver's cottage. He threw himself at his feet , and conjured him to save a man , who , if he escaped danger , would reward him beyond his hopes. The peasant , whether he knew him , or was struck with the loftiness and majesty of his appearance , which his misfortunes had not effaced , answered , « That if he only wanted rest , he might find it in his cottage $ but if he fled from enemies , he would show him a safer retreat. » Marius having accepted the last offer, the man conducted him to a hollow place , near a marsh ; where he covered him with leaves , reeds , and rushes. Marius had scarce entered this dismal retreat , before he heard his enemies in pursuit of him. They questioned , pressed , and menaced the wood- man , for concealing an enemy of the public , condemned to die by the Roman senate. Ma- rius had no resource left : he quitted his re- treat , undressed himself ? and plunged into the black and muddy water of the marsh. This dirty asylum could not conceal him. His pursuers ran to him , and having drawn (312) him out of the water naked , and all covered with mud , they put a cord about his neck . and dragged him to Minturnae , where they delivered him to the magistrates. May I be allowed here to desire the reader to consider Marius attentively in his deplo- rable state at this moment t What might then be his thoughts 1 How much ought he to have abhorred a fatal ambition that , from the height of greatness and glory , had plunged him into an abyss of misery , below the con- dition of mankind ! And what a lesson is this to those who are never contented with their condition , and who imagine they want all things , when but a single object is wanting to their insatiable avidity ! But such are the vicissitudes of human life , that even when hope forsook him , and while the hand was lifted up , he escaped the blow. From the lowest state of misery , he yet rose to the pinnacle of what is falsely called ho- nor and greatness. By the intrigues of a fac- tion , he returned to Rome , where he gave the most melancholy proofs that his misfor- tunes had neither made him wiser nor better , had neither taught him humility , compassion, nor moderation. Being at first , as it were 7 only protected by China , who was then master of Rome , he affected an air of dejec- tion ; but his unextinguished ambition soon rendered him the soul of the party. Having now the sword in b his hand , and burning with ( olZ ) with revenge and indignation , he cut down all before him : naturally merciless and cruel , he spared neither age , dignity , nor virtue ; a look , a nod , determined at once the fate of the most illustrious persons ; every one whom he in the least suspected or disliked was put to death , without the least form or ceremony. The slaughter , attended with plundering of houses and the most criminal violences , continued five days and five nights in Rome , which became one general scene of horror; unpitied shrieks and cries were every where heard ^ the canals poured down wiih human blood , while the lifeless bodies , even of the most eminent senators 9 were trempled under foot ; for it was prohibited to give them burial. These were the glorious fruits of ambition ! By these , without doubt , Ma- rius intended to render himself great and happy ; but he found it quite otherwise. The state of prosperity in which he was , did not calm the disquiets occasioned by the fear of Sylla's return , who was carrying on the war with Mithridates. So formidable an aven- ger made Marius tremble , and he could not even dissemble his fears. These thoughts tor- mented him continually , and occasioned his uights to pass without sleep , which began to affect his health and spirits. He , therefore , abandonned himsels to the excesses of the table , and to spend his nights in drinking ( 3i4 ) whit his friends and dependants. By this re- gimen he soon inflamed his blood. He was attacked with a fever , which presently seized his head ; and , in in his delirium , he raved of nothing but the war with Mithridates : he imagined he had the command of it ; and not only spoke , but made gestures , and assumed the attitude of a man that fights , or of a ge- neral giving orders , so violent and incurable was the passion ? and so deeply had it taken root in his heart , with which ambition and jealousy uniting had inspired him for that command. Thus , says Plutarch , at the age of seventy, the only man who had been seven times consul , and possessing riches that might have sufficed for several kings , lamented as one suffering indigence , and died before he could put his views in execution. Wretch ! that instead of enjoying the gifts or fortu- ne with gratitude , suffered himself to be deprived of the present , in being wholly engrossed by a chimerical future. And yet Marius was one of the most famous Ro- mans. But surely when ^Marius , or Ale- xander the Great , or Julius Caesar , are treated as great men , or as heroes , it holds forth the most flagrant exemple of the weakness of mankind , who so little under- stand their interests as to annex the idea of greatness and heroism to the fatal art of de- stroying their species ; and who can admit , ( 3i5 ) feat such heroism can subsist with vices most pernicious to society. His fortune seems scarcely more worth v of envy , than his conduct of praise. Fur if f instead of suffering ourselves to be dazzled by the vain splendor of riches and dignity , we consider what it cost him to acquire and se- cure the possession of them ; what intrigues - 9 cabals , anxieties ■! add to these ? the torments of envy , fears , vexation , on being often forced to give way , and , lastly , the deplo- rable circumstances of his flight ; would he not have been more happy 9 if, tranquil ia the obscure state he was born , cultivating the little land , either left him by his father or acquired by himself ? he had led a life exempt from care and dangers,, To the foregoing examples I will cniy add that of Rome itself, of which Marius was both the preserver and executioner. What a dreadful situation was she in amidst all her prosperity and greatness ! She is victorious over all her enemies , and tyrannized over by her own citizens. She puts to flight and cuts to pieces foreign armies, and is drowned in her own blood. Ambition prompts her to give laws to all nations ; at the same time she cannot support her own , which change every instant with the caprice of the tyrants that oppress her : and it is even ihis prospe- rity that gives birth to all her calamities* Modest and happy as long as she was werfk (3i6) and low , it is good fortune that introduces the most horrid of vices and calamities into her bosom, Such is the error and uncertainty of human things ! So ignorant are men of what constitutes their real happiness ! Let us conclude then, that there is no solid felicity, either for states or private persons , but in the practice of virtue ; and that virtue is much more the -friend and companion of mediocrity, than of too great an elevation of fortune. The beauties of history. De la bienfaisance* Man is naturally a beneficent creature. The greatest pleasure wealth can afford is that of doing good. All men of estates are in effect but trustees for the benefit of the distressed , and will be so reckoned when they are to give an account. Defer not charities till death. He that doth so , is rather liberal of another man's substance than of his own. Men of the noblest dispositions think them- selves happiest when others share with them in their happiness. No object is more pleasing to the eye than the sight of a man whom you have obliged ; nor any music so agreeable to the ear as the voice of one who owns you for his benefactor. ( 3i 7 ) It- is better to be of the number of tho3e who need relief, than of those who want hearts to give it. When we would exercise this virtue , wo ought to deliberate with ourselves whether our circumstances will answer our intended bounty ; for there are some who are generous to strangers , to the prejudice of themselves, their friends , and relations. We ought to consult the worth of the per- son whom we have chosen for the object of our liberality. The wicked , debauched, and extravagant are neither entitled to pity nor relief; but the cry of virtue in distress ought to be irresistible. That which is given by pride and osten- tation , is rather an ambition than a bounty. Let a benefit be ever so considerable , the? manner of confering it is the noblest part. When the proviuce of Azazene w r as rava- ged by the Romans , seven thousand Persians were brought prisonners to the city of Amida , where they fell into extreme want. Acases , bishop of the place , having assembled his clergy , represented to them , in the most pathetic terms , the misery of those unhappy prisoners. He then observed , that as the Almighty preferred mercy to sacrifice , he would certainly be better pleased with the relief of these his creatures , than with being served with gold and silver vessels in their churches. The clergy entertained his notion > O 3 ( 3i8 ) bo* only with readiness but with applause ; sold all the consecrated vessels , and, having maintained the Persians during the war , sent the seven thousand home at the conclusion of the peace 9 with money in their pockets. Va- renes , the Persian monarch , was so char- med with this action , that he sent to invite the bishop to his capital , where he received him with the utmost reverence , and did the Christians many favors at his request. About the year A. M 5782 ,. the island of Rhodes suffered very great damages by an earthquake : the walls of the city, with the arsenals , and the narrow passes in the ha- vens , where the ships of that island were laid up, were reduced to a very ruinous con- dition; and the famous Colossus , which was esteemed one of the wonders of the world , was thrown down and entirely destroyed, It is natural to think that this earthquake spa- red neither private nor public structures , nor even the temples of the gods. The loss sustain, jied by it amounted to immense sums ; and the Rhodians , reduced to the utmost distress , sent deputations to all the neighbouring prin- ces to implore their relief in that melancholy conjuncture. An emulation worthy of praise r and not to be paralleled in history , prevailed in favor of that deplorable city ; and Hiero and Galon in Scily , and Ptolemy in Egypti signa- ( org ) lized themselves in a peculiar manner on that occasion. The two former of these princes contributed above an hundred talents , and erected two statues in the public place ; one of which represented the people of Rhodes , and the other those of Syracuse , the former was crowned by tlie latter , to testify , as Polybius observes, that the Syracusians thought the opportunity of relieving the Rhodians a favor and obligation to themselves. Ptolemy, besides his other expenses , which amounted to a very considerable sum , supplied that people with three hundred talents , a hun- dred thousand bushels of corn , and a suffi- cient quantity of timber for building ten gailies of ten benches of oars , and as many more of three benches , besides an infinite quantity of wood for other buildings j all which dona- tions were accompanied with three thousand talents , for erecting the Colossus anew. An- tigonus , Seleucus , Prusias , Mithridates , and all the princes , as well as cities , signalized their liberality on the occasion. Even private persons emulated each other in sharing hi this glorious act of humanity ; and historians have recorded that a lady, whose name was Chry- seis , furnished, from her own substance, an hundred thousand bushels of corn. Rhodes , in consequence of these liberalities , was ree- stablished in a more opulent and splendid state than she had ever experienced before , if W r Qjon\j except the Colossus. Tee beauties of ristoky*- ( 320 ) De la Clemence. Clemency is not only the privilege , the honor , and the duty of a prince , but it is also his security , and better than all garri- sons , forts , and guards , to preserve himself and his dominions in safety. It is the brightest jewel in a monarch's crown. As meekness moderates anger, so clemency moderates punishment. That prince is truly royal , who masters himself, looks upon all injuries as below him , and governs by equity and reason , not by passion. Clemency is profitable for all ; does well in private persons , but is much more benilicial in princes. Mischiefs contemned , lose their force. Deucetius , according to Diodorus , was chief over the people who were properly cal- led Sicilians. Having united them ail into one body, he became very powerful, and formed several great enterprises. It was he who built the city of Palica , near the temple of the gods , called Palici. This city was famous on account of some wonders which are related of it ; and still more for the sacred nature of the oaths which were there taken , the violation whereof was said to be always followed by a sudden and exemplary punishment. This was a secure asylum ft«r ( 321 ) all persons who were oppressed by superior power j and especially for slaves who were unjustly abused or cruelly treated by their masters. They continued in safety id this temple , till certain arbiters and mediators had made their peace ; and there was not a single instance of masters having ever for- feited the promise he had made to pardon his slaves. This Deucetius, after having been successful on a great many occasions , and gained several victories , particularly over the Syracusians , saw his fortune change on a sudden by the loss of a battle , and was abandoned by the grea- test part of his forces. In the consternation and despondency into which so general and sudden a desertion threw him , he formed such a resolution as despair only could sug- gest. He withdrew in the night to Syracuse , advanced as far as the great square in the city , and there falling prostrate at the foot of the altar; he abandoned his life and domi- nions to the mercy of the Syracusians ; that is , to his professed enemies. The singularity of this spectacle drew great numbers of peo- ple to it. The magistrates immediately con- vened the people , and debated on the affair* They first heard the orators , whose business Was generally to address the people by their speeches ; and these animated them prodi- giously against Deucetius , as a public enemy whom Providence seemed to throw in their O 5 ( 022 ) way , to revenge and punish , by his deaths all the injuries he had done the republic. A. speech in this style struck all the virtuous, part of the assembly with horror. The most ancient and the wisest of the senators repre- sented , « That they were not to consider what punishment Deucetius deserved , but how it behooved the Syracusians to behave on that occasion y that they ougj^t not to look upon him any longer as an enemy , but. as a suppliant 9 a character by which his person became sacred and inviolable. There was a goddess ( Nemesis ) who took ven- geance of crimes , especially of cruelty and impiety , and who , doubtless , would not suffer that, to go unpunished ; that besides the baseness and inhumanity there is in insul- ting the unfortunate , and in crushing those who are already under, one's foot , it was worthy the grandeur, and. goodnes natural to the Syracusians , to exert their clemency even to those who least deserved it. » All the people came into this opinion v and with one consent spared Deucetiu's life. He was ordered to reside in Corinth ; all the Syracusians engaged to furnish Deucetius with all things necessary for his subsisting honorably there. What reader , who com- pares these two different opinions ; does not* perceive which of them was the noblest aud most, generous ! ( 323 ) The Athenians having made war upon the Syracusians , the army of the former , under the command of Nicias and Demosthenes , was totally defeated , and the generals obli- ged to surrender at discretion. The victors , having entered their capital in triumph , the next day a council was held to deliberate what was to be done with the prisoners. Diocles , one of the leaders of the greatest authority among the people , proposed , that all the Athenians who were born of free pa- rents , and all such Sicilians as had joined with them , should be imprisoned, and be maintained on bread and water only •> that the slaves , and all the Attics should be pu- blicly sold -> and that the two Athenian ge- nerals should be first scourged with rods , and then put to death. This last article ex- ceedingly disgusted all wise and compassio- nate Syracusians. Hermocrates 5 who was very famous for his probity and justice , at- tempted to make some remonstrances to the people , but they would not hear ; and the shouts which echoed from all sides prevented him from continuing his speech. At that ins- tant , an ancient man , venerable for his great age and gravity , who in this war had lost two sons , the only heirs to his name and estate , made his servants carry him to the tribunal for harangues j and , the instant h.e appeared 9 a profomvl silence was made* 6 (324 ) « You here behold , » says he , « and un- fortunate father , who has felt more than any other Syracusian the fatal effects of this war , by the death of two sons , who formed all the consolation , and were the only supports of my old age. I cannot , indeed , forbear admiring their courage and felicity in sacri- ficing to their contry's welfare a life which they would one day have been deprived of by the common course of nature j but then I cannot but be sensibly effected with the cruel wound which their death hath made in my heart ; nor forbear hating and despising the Athenians , the authors of this unhappy war, as the murderers of my children. But, however , 1 cannot conceal one circumstance , -which is , that I am less sensible for my pri- vate afflictions than for the honor of my country , and I see it exposed to eternal in- famy , hy the barbarous advice which is now given you. The Athenians, indeed, merit the worst kind of treatment that could be in- flicted on them , for so unjustly declaring war against us : but have not the gods , the just avengers of crimes , punished them , and avenged us sufficiently ! When their generals laid down thrir arms and surrendered , did not they do this in hopes of having their lives spared I And if we put them to death , will it be possible for us to avoid the just reproach of our having violated the law of nations K &utf dishonored our victory hy unheard -of ( 325 ) cruelty ! What will you suffer your glory to be thus sullied in the face of the whole world, and have it said v that a nation who first de- dicated a temple to Clemency has not found any in yours I Surely , victories and triumphs do not give immortal glory to a city ; but the exercising mercy towards a vanquished ene- my , tfie using moderation in the greatest prosperity , and the fearing to offend the gods by a haughty and insolent pride. You doubtless have not forgotten that this Nicias, whose fate you are going to pronounce , was the very man who pleaded your cause in the assembly of the Athenians , and who em- ployed all his credit , and the whole power of his eloquence , to dissuade his country from embarking in this war. Should you ? therefore , pronounce sentence of death on this worthy general, would it be a just re- ward for the zeal he showed for your interest I With regard to myself , death would be less grievous to me , than the sight of so horrid an injustice committed by my countrymen and fellow-citizens. » The beauties of histoid De la Compassion. Compassion is the sense of our own mis- fortunes in those of another man. It is a wise foresight of the disasters that may befall us , which induces us to assist others , in order to engage them to return it on like occasiopsj ( 326 } so that the services we do the unfortunate are in reality so many anticipated kindnesses, to ourselves. Compassion proper to mankind appears , Which nature witnessed when she lent us tears ,. To show by pitying looks , and melting eyes , How with a suffering friend we sympathize. Who can all sense of other's ills escape , Is but a brute , at beast, in human .'shape. It was a custom with Alexander the Great: to oblige the captive women whom he car- ried along with him to sing songs after the manner of their country. He happened among these women to perceive one who appeared in deeper affliction than the rest ; and. who by a modest, and at the same time a noble confusion 9 discovered a greater reluctance than the others to appear in public. She was a perfect beauty , which was very much heightened by her bashfulness r whilst she threw her eyes on the ground ,, and did all she could te conceal her face. The king soon imagined ,. by her air and mien , that she was* not of vulgar birth ; and , inquiring into it 9 . the lady answered , that she was grandciugh- ter to Octius , who not long before swayed the Persian sceptre , and daughter of his son ; that she had married Hyslaspes , who was related to Darius , and general of a great army. Alexander being touched with com- passion j. when he heard the unhappy fate ofV e 327 )• & rarincess of the royal blood, and the sad condition to which she was reduced , not only gave her liberty , but returned all her possessions, and caused her husband to be sought for , in order that she might be resto*- lied to bim. As Alexander drew near the city of Perse* polis , he perceided a large body of men who exhibited a memorable example of the greatest misery. These were about four thou- sand Greeks , very far advanced in years ^ who having been made prisoners of war , had suffered all the torments which the Persian, tyranny could afflict. The hands of some had been cut off , the feet of others; and other% again had lost their noses and ears: alter which the Persians having impressed by fir© barbarous characters on their faces, had the inhumanity, to keep them as so many laughing- Stocks , with which they sported perpetuallyo. They appeared like so many shadows rather than men ; speech being almost the only thing by which they were known to be such* Alexander could not refrain from tears at this sight; and as they unanimously besought him to commiserate their condition, he bid them ,, with t}ie utmost tenderness, not to despond j and assured them ? that they should again, see their wifes and native country. This pro- posal 3 which one. might .supgo.se should na? ( 328 ) tarally have filled them with joy , seemed to heighten their misery ; and , with tears in their eyes* « How will it be possible , » said some of them , « for us to appear pu- blicly before all Greece , in the dreadful con- dition to which we are reduced : a condition still more shameful than dissatisfactory. The best way to hear misery is to conceal it ; and no country is so sweet to the wretched as solitude , and an oblivion of their past misfortunes. » They , therefore , besought the king to permit them to continue in a country where they had spent so many years , and to end their days among those who were already accustomed to their misfortunes. Alexander granted their request , and presented each of them three thousand drachmas , five men's suits of clothes, the same number of women's , two couple of oxen to plough their lands f and corn to sow them : he commanded the governor of the province not to suffer them to be molested in any manner , and ordered that they should be free from taxes and tri- butes of every kind. Such behaviour as this was truly royal. Thrice happy those princes who are affected with ihe pleasure which arises from the doing of good actions , and who melt with pity for the unfortunate ! The spurns of histoid (32 9 ) Naissance de Robinson Crusoe. Ses pre- mieres aventures* I was born in the year 1602 , in the city of York , of a good family , though not of that country , my father being a foreigner of Bre- men , who settled first at Hull : he got a good estate by merchandize , and leaving off his trade , lived afterwards at York , from whence he had married my mother , whose relations were named Robinson , a very good family in that country , and from whom I was called Robinson Kreutznaer; butby usual corruption of words in England , we are now called , nay , we call ourselves , and write our name Crusoe ; and so wy compa- nions always called me. I had two elder brothers , one of whom was a lieutenant-colonel to an English regi- ment of foot in Flanders , formerly comman- ded by the famous Colonel Lockhart , and was killed at the battle near Dunkirk , against the Spaniards : what became of my second brother I never knew , any more than my faiher or mother did know what was become of rne. Being the third son of the family , and not bred to any trade , my head began to be fil- led very early with rambling thoughts : my father , who was very ancient , had given me a competent share of learning , as fa f as ( 33o ) Iiouse-education and a country free-school generally go , and designed me for the law y but I would be satisfied with nothing but going to sea : and my inclination to this led me so strongly against the will , nay the com- mands , of my father , and against all the en- treaties and persuasions of my mother and other friends , that there seemed to be some- thing fatal in that propension of nature , ten- ding directly to the life of misery which was to befal me. My father, a wise and grave man, gava me serious and excellent counsel against what he foresaw was my design. He called me one Hiorniag into his chamber , where he was- confined by the gout , and expostulated very warmly with me upon this subject ; he asked me what reasons , more than a mere wande- ring inclination , I had for leaving my fa- ther's house and my native country , where I might be well introduced , and had a pros- pect of raising my fortune by application and industry , with a life of ease and pleasure : lie told me , it was men of desperate fortunes on one hand , or of aspiring superior fortu- nes on the other, and who went abroad upon adventures , to rise bv enter prize , and make themselves famous in undertakings of a na- ture out of the common road ; and these things were all either too far above me , or too far below me ; that mine was the middle state ,, or what might be called the upper station oh (33i ) low Hie , wich he had found , by long expe- rience , was the best state in the world , the most suited to human happiness, not exposed to the miseries and hardships , the labour and sufferings of the mechanic part of mankind ^ and not em brassed with the pride , luxury ^ ambition , and envy of the upper part of man- kind. He told me I might judge of the hnppi- nefs oithis state , by this one thing, viz. that this was the state of life which all other peo- ple envied ; that kings have frequently lamen- ted the miserable consequences of being born to great things , and wished they had been placed in the middle of the two extremes r between the mean and the great ; that the wise man gave his testimony to this , as the just stan. lard of true felicity , "when he oraved to hava neither proverty nor riches. He bade me observe it > and I should always find , that the calamities of life ware shared among the upper and lower part ot mankind 5. but that the middle station had the fewest dis- asters , and was not exposed to so many vi- cissitudes as the higher or lower part of man- kind i nay , they were not subjected to so many distempers and uneasinesses , either of body or mind , as those were , who , by vi- cious living , luxury , and extravagancies on one hand , or by hard labour , want o£ necessaries , and mean or insufficient diet r on the other hand , bring distempers upon /.selvss by ths natural consequence^ o£ ( ~J2 ) their way of living 5 that the middle station of life was calculated for all kind of virtues # and all kind of enjoymens 5 that Peace and Plenty were the handmaids of a middle for- tune j that temperance , moderation , quiet- ness , health, society, all agreable diversions f and all desirable pleasures , were the blessings attending the middle station of life ; that this way men went silently and smoothly through the world , and comfortably out of it ; not embarrassed with the labour of the hands , or of the head ; not sold to a life of slavery for daily bread , or harrassed with perplexed circumstances , wich rob the soul of peace , and the body of rest ; not enraged with the passion of envy , or the secret burning lust of ambition for great things ; but in easy cir- cumstances, sliding gently through the world, and sensibly tasting the sweets of living , wi- thout the bitter ; feeling that they are happy , and learning by every day's experience to know it more sensibly. After this , he pressed me earnestly , and in the most affectionate manner , not to play the young man , or to precipitate myfelf into miseries , which nature, and the station of life I was born in , seemed to have provided against ; that I was under no necessity of see- king my bread ; that he would do well forme , and endeavour to enter me fairly into the sta- tion of life which he had been just recom- mending to me; and that if I was not very ( 333 ) easy and happy in the world , it must be my mere fate or fault that must hinder it ; and that he should have nothing to answer for, having thus discharged his duty , in warning me against measures which he knew would he to my hurt : in a word , that as he w r ould do very kind things for me , if I would stay and settle at home , as he directed ; so he would not have so much hand in my misfor- tunes , as to gave me any encouragement to go away : and to close all , he told me , I had my elder brother for an example , to whom he had used the same earnest persuasions , to keep him from going into the Low Country wars , but could not prevail , his young de- sires promting him to run into the army, whe- re he was killed ; and though , he said , he would not cease to pray for me , yet he would venture to say to me , that if I dit take this foolish step , God would not bless me ; and I would have leisure hereafter to reflect upon having neglected his counsel , when there might be none to assist in my recovery. I observed in this last part of his disconrse, wich was truly prophetic , though I suppose my father did not know it to be so himself; fcsay I observed the tears run down his face very plentifully , especially when he spoke of my brother who was killed ; and that when he spoke of my having leisure to repent , and none to assist me , he was so moved , that he kroke off the discourse, and told me his heart ( 33.| ) was so full he could say no more to I was sincerely afflicted with this discourse , &s indeed who could be otherwife ; and I re- solved not to think of going abroad any more^ but to settle at home, according to my fa- ther's desire : but , alas ! a few days wore it all off; and , in short , to prevent any of my father's farther importunities , in a few weeks after , I resolved to run quite aw T ay from him. However , I did not act so hastily neither , as the first heat of my resolution prompted : but I took my mother at a time when I thought her a little pleasanter than ordinary ; and told her , that my thoughts were so entirely foent upon seeing the world , that I should never settle to any thing with resolution enough to go through with it ; and my father had better give me his consent , than force me to go without it ; that I was now eighteen yeats old , which was too late to go appren*- tice to a trade , or clerk to an attorney ; that I was sure .. if I did , I should never serve out my time , but I should certainly run away from my master before my time was out , and go to sea } and if she would speak to my far- ther to let me go one voyage abroad , if I came home again, and did not like it , I would, go no more, and I would promise , by a dou* ble diligence , to recover the time I had lost. This put my mother into a great passion : she told me , she knew it would be to no pur- pose to speak to my father upon any such ( 335 ) subject ; that he knew too well what was my interest , to give his consent to any thing so much for my hurt ; and that she wonde- red how I could think of any such thing , after the discourse I had had with my father, and such kind and tender expressions as she knew my father had used to me : and that , in short , if I would ruin myself , there was no help for me ; but I might depend 1 should never have their consent to it ; that , for her part , she would not have so much hand in my destruction ; and I should never have it to say , that my mother was willing , when my father was not. Though my mother refused to move it to my father , yet I heard afterwards , that she reported all the discourse to him : and that my father , after shewing a great concern at it , said to her , with a sigh. — « That boy » might be happy, if he would stay at homes » but if he goes abroad , he will be the most » miserable wretch that ever was born J I v can give no consent to it. » It was not till almost a year after this that I broke loose 9 though in the meam time I continued obstinately deaf to all proposals of settling to business , and frequently expostu- lated with my father and mother , about their being so positively determined against whcU they knew my inclinations prompted me to. But being one day at Hull , whither I WQiU casually , and without any purpose of ( 336 ) making an elopement at that time , I say being there , and one of my companions being going by sea to London , in his father's ship , and prompting me to go with them , with the common alluremsnt of a seafaring man , that it should cost me nothing for my passage ; I consulted neither father or mother any more , nor so much as sent them word of it ; but leaving them to hear of it as thoy might , without asking God's blessing or my father's , without any consideration of cir- cumstances or consequences , and in an ill- hour. ( God knows ) on the first of Septem- ber, i65r , I went on board a ship bound for London. Never any young adventurer's misfortunes , I believe , began sooner , or continued longer, than mine : the ship was do sooner got out of the Humber , but the ■wind began to blow , and the sea to rise in a most frightful manner ; and as I had never been at sea before, I was most inexpressibly sick in body, and terrified in mind. I began now seriously to reflect upon what I had done , and how justly I was overtaken by the judgment of Heaven , for so my wickedly leaving my father's house , and abandoning my duty ; all the good counsel of my parents , my father's tears , and my mother's entreaties , came now fresh into my mind ; and my con- science , which was not yet come to the pitch ©f hardness to which it has been since , re- proached me with the contempt of advice , and f 5Z 7 ) and the breach of my duty to God and my father. AH this while the storm encreased , and the sea ran very high , though nothing like what I have seen many times since j no , nor what I saw a few days after ; but it was enough to affect me then , who was but a young sailor , and had never known any thing of the matter. I expected every wave would have swallowed us up 5 and that every time the ship fell down , as I thought it did f in the trough or hollow of the sea , we should never rise more. In this agony of mind I made many vows and resolutions , that if it would please God to spare my life in this one voya« ge , if ever I got once my foot upon dry land again , I would go directly home to my fa- ther , and never set it into a ship again while I lived ; that I would take his advice 9 and never run myself into such miseries as these any more. Now I saw plainly the goodness of his observations about the middle station of life , how easy , how comfortable he had li- ved all his days , and never had been exposed to tempest at sea , or trouble on shore ; and , in short, I resolved that I would , like a true repenting prodigal , go home to my father. These wise and sober thoughts continued all the while the storm lasted , and indeed some time after ; but the next day the wind was abated , and the sea calmer , and I be- gan to be a little inured to it. However I P ( 338 ) was very grave for all that day , being also a little seasick still ; but towards night the weather cleared up , the wind was quite over, and a charming fine evening followed ; the sun went down perfectly clear ; and rose so the next morning , and having little or no wind , and a smooth sea , the sun shining upon it , the sight was , as I thought , the most delightful I ever saw. I had slept well in the night, and was now no more sea-sick , but very cheerful ; looking "with wonder upon the sea , that was so rough and terrible the day before , and could be so calm, and so pleasant , in so little a time af- ter : and now, lest my good resolutions should coutinue , my companion , who had , indeed , enticed me away, came to me — «Well, Bob,» says he, « clapping me upon the shoulder,» how $ do you do after it 1 1 warrant you werefrigh- » ted , were not you last night , when it blew £ but a cap full of wind ? — . ,, A cap full dye » call it ! » said I , it was a terrible storm. »— A » storm , you fool , you ! » replies he ,» do you >> call thata storm? Why, it was nothing at all. » Give us but a good ship, and sea room, and we v> think nothing of such a squall of wind as » that , but , you are but a fresh-water sailor, » Bob ; come , let us make a bowl of punch , » and we'll forget all that. Dye see what » charming weather't is now^To make short this sad part of my story, we went the way of all sailors i the punch was made ? aud I was ( 33g ) made half drunk with it, and in that onft night's wickedness I drowned all my repen- tance , al my reflections on my past conduct , and all my resolutions for the future. In a word , as the sea was returned to its smoothness of surface , and settled calmness , by the abate- ment of that storm , so the hurry of my thou- ghts being over, my fears and apprehensions of being swallowed up by the sea , being for- gotten , and the current of my former desires returned , I entirely forgot the vows and pro- mises I made in my distress. I found , indeed , some intervals of reflection , and the serious thoughts did , as it were , endeavour to return again sometimes ; but I shook them off , and rouzed myself from them , as it were from a distemper ; and applying myself to drinking and company , soon mastered the return of those fits , ( for so I called them $ ) and I had , in five or six days , got as complete a victory over my conscience , as any young fellow that resolved not to be troubled with it could de- sire : But I was to have another trial for it still ; and Providence , as in such cases gene- rally happens , resolved to leave me entirely without excuse ; for if I would not take this for a deliverance , the next was to be such a one , as the worst and most hardened wretch among us would confess both the danger and the mercy. The sixth day of our being at sea we came Into Yarmouth roads 5 the wind having been P 2 ( 34o ) contrary, and the weather calm , we had made but little way since the storm. Here we were obliged to come to an anchor , and here we lay * the wind continuing contrary , viz. at S. W. for seven or eight days; during which time, a great many ships from Newcastle came into the same roads ; as the common harbour where the ships might wait for a wind for the river. We had not , however, rid here so long , but we should have tided it up the river, had not the wind blew too fresh ; and , after we had lain four or five days, blew very hard. How- ever , the roads being reckoned as good as an harbour, the anchorage good , and our ground tackle very strong , our men were unconcer- ned , and not in the least apprehensive of dan- ger j but spent the time in rest and mirth, af- ter the manner of the sea ; but the eighth day in the morning, the wind increased, and we had all hands to work to strike our top-masts , and make every thing snug and close , that the ship might ride as easy possible. By noon the sea ran very high indeed , and our ship rid forecastle-in , shipped several seas , and we thought once or twice our anchor had come home : upon which our master ordered out the fleet anchor ; so that we rode with two an- chors a-head , and the cables weered out to the betther end. By this time it blew a terrible storm indeed ; and now I began to see terror and amazement ( 34* ) in the faces even of the seamen themselves. The master, though vigilant in the business of pre- serving the ship , yet as he went in and out of his cabin by me , I could hear him, softly to himself, say several times— « Lord be mer- ciful to us ! we shall be all lost , we shall be all undone ! » and the like. During these first hurries I was stupid , lying still in my cabin , which was in the steerage, and cannot describe my temper. I could ill resume the first penitence which I had so apparently trampled upon, and hardened myself against : I thought the bitter- nefs of death had been passed ; and that this would be nothing too , like the first. But when the master himself came by me , as I said just now, and said we should be all lost , 1 was dreadfully frighted. I got up out of my cabin 9 and looked out: but such a dismal sight I never saw ; the sea went mountains high , and broke upon us every three or four minutes. When I could look about, I could see nothing but dis- tress round us : two ships that rid near us, we found , had cut their masts by the board, being deep laden ; and our men cried out , that a ship which rid about a mile ahead of us was foun- dered. Two more ships, being driven from their anchors , were run out of the roads to sea , at all adventures , and that not with a mast standing. The light ships fared the best, as not so much la- bouring in the sea ; but two or three of them drove , and came close by us , running away with only their sprit-sail out before the wind* P5 ( 342 ) Towards the evening, the mate and boats* Wain begged the master of our ship to let them cut away the foremast, which he was very un- willing to do : but the boatswain protesting to him, that if he did not, the ship would founder, he consented ; and when they had cut away the foremast, the main-mast stood so loose , and shook the ship so much, they were obliged to cur her away also , and make a clear deck. Any one may judge what a condition 1 must be in , at all this , who was but a young sailor, and who had been in such a fright before at but a little. But it I can express at this distance the thoughts I had about me at the time , I was in ten-fold more horror of mind upon account of my former convictions ; and the having retur- ned from them to the resolutions 1 had wicked- ly taken at first , than I was at death itself; and these , added to the terror of the storm, put me into such a condition , that I can by no words describe it. But the worst was not come yet ; the storm continued with such fury , that the seamen themselves acknowledged they had ne- ver seen a worse. We had a good ship , but she was deep laden , and wallowed in the sea, that the seamen every now and then cried out she would founder. It wasmy advantage in one res- pect, that I did not know what they meant by founder , till I enquired. However , the storm was so violent , that I saw what is not often seen , the master , the boatswain and some others more sensible than the rest , at their ( 343 ) prayers , and expecting every moment the ship would go to the bottom. In the middle of the night , and under all the rest of our distresses , one of the men that had been down on purpose to see , cried out we had sprung a leak ; ano- ther said, there was four feet water in the hold. Then all hands were called to the pump. At that very word my heart , as y thought, died within me ; and I fell backwards upon the side of my bed where I sat , into the cabin. Howe- ver , the men rouzed me , and told me , that I that was able to do nothing before , was as Well able to pump as another ; at which I stir- red up , and went to the pump , and worked very heartily. While this was doing,the master seeing some light colliers, who, not able to ride out the storm , were obliged to slip and rum away to the sea, and would come near us, orde- red to fire a gun as a signal of distress. I , who knew nothing what they meant,was so surpri- zed , that I thought the ship had broke*, or so- me dreadful thing happened ; in a word , I was so surprised , that I fell down in a swoon. As this was a time when every body had his own life to think of, nobody minded me , or what was become of me •> but another man stepped up to the pump, and, thrusting me aside with his foot , let me lie , thinking I had beed dead ; and it was a great while before I came to myself. We worked on , but the water increasing in the hold,it was apparent that the ship would founder $ and though the storm began to abate P4 ( 344) a little , yet as it was not possible she could swim till we might run into any port , so the master continued firing guns for help ; and a light ship , who had rid it out just a head of us , ventured a boat out to help us. It was with the utmost hazard the boat came near us ; but 5t was impossible fur us to get on board, or for the boat to lie near the ship's side , till at last the men rowing very heartily, and venturing their lives to save ours , our men cast them a rope over the stern with a buoy to it, and then veered it out a great leuglh , which they, after much labour and hazard , took hold of, and we hauled them close under our stern , and got all into their boat. It was to no purpose for them or us , after we were in the boat , to think , of reaching to their own ship ; so all agreed to let her drive, and only to pull her in towards shore as much as we could ; and our master promised them , that if the boat was staved upon shore , he woul make it good to their master ; so partly rowing , and partly driving, our boat went away to the north- ward, sloping towards the shore, ^almost as far as Wintertonnesse. We were not much more than a quarter of an hour out of our ship , but we saw her sink ; and then I understood , for the first time, what was meant by a ship foundering in the sea. I must acknowledge I had hardly eyes to look tip, when the seamen told me she was sinkings for, from that moment they rather put me into ( 3 4 5 ) the boat ; than that T might be said to go in ., my heart was as it were dead within me; partly with horror of mind , and the thoughts of what was yet before me. While we were in this condition , the men yet labouring at the oar to bring the boat near the shore , we could see (when our boat moun- ting the waves , we were able to see the shore) a great many people running along the strand to assist us when we should come near : but we made but slow way towards the shore 9 nor were we able to reach the shore , till being past the light-house at Winterton , the shore falls off to the westward towards Cromer; and so the land broke off a little the violence of the wind. Here w r e got in , and though not without much difficulty , got all safe on shore t and walked afterwards on foot to Yarmouth 5 where , as unfortunate men , w r e were used with great humanity , as well by the magis- trates of L the town , who assigned us good quarters , as by particular merchants and owners of ships , and had money given us sufficient to carry us either to London , of back to Hull , as we thought fit. Had I now had the sense to have gone back to Hull, and have gone home, I had been happy, and my father , an emblem of our Bles- sed Saviour's parable , had even killed the fat- ted calf for me ; for, hearing the ship I went away in , was cast away in Yarmouth Road , it was a great while before he had any assu-"* ranees that I was not drowned. (346) But my ill-fate pushed me on now, with an obstinacy that nothing could resist ; and though I had several times loud calls from my reason and my more composed judgment , to go home , yet I had no power to do it ; I know not what to call this ; nor will I urge , that it is a secret-over-ruling decree that hur- ries us on , to be the instruments of our own destruction , even though it be before us , and that we push upon it with our eyes open. Cer- tainly , nothing but some such decreed unavoi- dable misery attending , and which it was im- possible for me to escape, could have pushed me forward against the calm reasonings and parsuasions of my most retired thoughts , and against two such visible instructions as I had met with in my firs attempt. My comrade , who had helped to harden me before , and who was the master's son 9 was now less forward than I. The first time he spoke to me after we were at Y armouth ; which was not till two or three days , for we were separated in the town to several quar- ters ; I say , the first time he saw me , it ap- peared his tone was altered ; and , looking very melancholy , and shaking his head , as- ked me how I did ; and telling his father who I was , and how I had come this voyage only for a trial , in order to go farther abroad; his father turning to me with a very grave and concerned tone , « Young man , » says he , « you ought never to go to sea any more ; (347) » you ought to take this for a plain and visi- » ble token , that you are not to be a featuring » man. « — » Why , Sir , « said I ; will » you go to sea no more I « — » That is ano- » ther case , » said he ; « it is my calling , p and therefore my duty ; but as you made » this voyage for a trial , you see wha a taste » Heaven has given you of what you are to » expert , if you persist ; perhaps all this has » befallen us on your account ; like Jonah » in the ship of Tarsnish. Pray , » conli- » nues he , what are you I and on what ac- » count did you go to sea 1 » Upon that I told him some of my flory ; at the end of which , he burst out with a strange kind of passion. « What had I done , » says he , » » that such an unhappy wretch should com© S> into my ship ! I would not set my foot in » the same ship with thee again for a thou- )> sand pounds. » This iudeed was , as I said , an excursion of his spirits , which were yet agitaded by the sense of his loss , and was farther than he could have authority to go : however , he afterwards talked very gravely to me , exhorting me to go back to my father, and not tempt Providence to my ruin ; told me I might see a visihie hand of Heaven against me : which way he went , I know not. As for me , ha- ving some money in my pocket, I travelled to London , by land -> and there , as well as on the road , had many struggles with my- self , what course or life I should take , and whether I should go home , or go to sea. As to going home, shame opposed the best motions that offered to my thoughts ; and it immediately occurred to me how I should be laughed at among the neighbours , and should be ashamed to see , not my father and mother only, but even every body else. From whence I have since often observed how incongruous and irrational the common temper of mankind is , especially of youth , to that reason that ought to guide them in such cases ; viz. that they are not ashamed to sin , and yet are asha- med to repent ; not ashamed of the action , for which they ought justly to be esteemed fools: but are ashamed of the returning, w T hich only can make them esteemed wise men. In this state of life , however , I remained some time , uncertain what measures to take , and what course of life to lead. An irresisti- ble reluctance continued to goiug home ; and as I staid awhile , the remembrance of distress I had been in , wore off ; and as that abated , the little motion 1 had in my desires to return, wore off with it ; till at last I quite laid aside the thoughts of it, arid looked out for a voyage. ( 349 ) That evil influence which carried me first aw ay from my father's house , which hurried me into the wild and indigested notion of rai- siug my fortune , and that impressed those con- ceits so forcibly upon me as to make me deaf to all good advice , and to the entreaties i and even the commands of my father ; I say, the same influence 9 whatever it was , presented the most unfortunate of all enterprizes to my view ; and I went on hoard a vessel bound to the coast of Africa , or , as our sailors vul- garly call it , a voyage to Guinea. It was my great misfortune , that in all these adventures I did not ship myself as sailor ; whereby , though I might indeed have worked a little harder than ordinary , yet, at the same time , I had learned the duty and office of a force-mast-man ; and in time might have qua- lified myself for a mate or lieutenant , if not for a master. But as it was always my fate to chuse for the worst , so I did here ; for having money in my pocket , and good cloaths on my back, I would always go on board in the habit of a gentleman ; and so I neither had any business in the ship , nor learned to do any. It was my lot first of all to fall into pretty good company in London , which does not always happen to such loose and unguided young fellows as I then was ; the devil gene- rally not omitting to lay some snare for them very early ; but it was not so with me. I first became acquainted with the master of a ship ( 35o ) who had been on the Coast of Guinea , and who , having had very good success there , "was resolved to go again : this captain , taking a fancy to my conversation , which was not disagreable at that time , and hearing me say I had a mind te see the world , told me , if I would go the voyage with him , I should be his messmate , and his companion ; and if I could carry any thing with me, I should have ail the advantage of it that the trade would admit •> and perhaps I might meet* with some encouragement. I embraced the offer ; and entering into a strict friendship with this captain , who was an honest plain-dealing man , went the voyage with him , and carried a small adventure With me , which , by the desinterested honesty of my friend the captain , I increased very con- siderably y for I carried about 40/. insuch toys and trifles as the captain directed me to buy. This 4o/. I had mustered together , by the as- sistance of some of my relations whom 1 cor- responded with , and who , I , believe , got my father , or at least my mother , to contri- bute so much as that to my first adventure. This was the only voyage which I may say was successful in all my adventures , and which I owe to the integrity and honesty oi 'my friend the captain ; under whom I got a competent knowledge of the mathematics , and the rules of navigation : learned how to keep an account of the ship's course, take an observation , and , ( 35i ) in short, to understand some things that were needful to be understood by a sailor : for , as he took delight to introduce me, 1 took delight to learn : and , in a word , this voyage mad© me both a sailor and a merchant; for I brought home five hundred pounds nine ounces of gold- dust for my adventure, which yielded me in London, at my return , almost 3ooZ. and this filled me with those aspiring thoughts which have since so compleated my ruin. Yet , even in this voyage , I had misfortu- nes too ; particularly , that I was continually sick , being thrown into a violent calenture by the excessive heat of the climate ; our prin- cipal trading being upon the, coast , from the lat. of 1 5 deg. N. even to the line itself. I was now set up for a Guinea trader 5 and my fried , to my great misfortune, dying soon after his arrival , I resolved to go the same voydge again ; and I embarked in the same vessel with one who was his mate in the for- mer voyage , and had now got the command of the ship. This was the unhappiest voyage that ever man made ; for though I did not carry quite 100/. of my new-gained wealth , so that I had 200/. left, and which I lodged with my friend's widow , who was very just to me , yet I fell into terrible misfortunes in this voyage ; and the first was this : viz. our ship making her course towards the Cauary Islands and the African shore , was surprized in the grey of the morning by a Moorish ro^- ver of Sallee , who gave chace to us with all ( 3£i ) the sail she could make. We crouded also as much canvas as our yards would spread , or our masts carry , to have got clear ; but fin- ding the pirate gained upon us , and would certainly come up with us in a few hours , we prepared to fight ; our ship having twelve guns , and the rover eighteen. About three in the afternoon he came up with us 9 and, brin- ging to , by mistake , just athwart our quar- ter , instead of athwart our stern , as he in- tended , we brought eight of our guns to bear on that side, and poured in a broadside upon him , which made him sheer off again , after returning our fire, and pouring in also his small shot from near 200 men which he had on board. However , we had not a man touched , all* our men keeping close. He prepared to attack us again, and we to defend ourselves ; but laying us on board the next time upon our other quar- ter, he entered ninety men upon our decks f who immediately fell to cutting and hacking the decks and rigging. We plied them with small-shot , half-pikes , powder-chests , and such like , and cleared our deck of them twi- ce. However , to cut short this melancholy part of our story , our ship being disabled , and three of our men killed , and eight woun- ded , we were obliged to yield ', and were carried all prisoners into Sallee , a port be- longing to the Moors Daniel ueToe. FIN. Deacidified using the Bookkeeper process. Neutralizing agent: Magnesium Oxide Treatment Date: Jan. 2009 PreservationTechnologies a wnni n i faiifr m rni i ppTinNS PRPSFRVATinw LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 013 718 076 5 $