•
 
 LI B R.AFLY 
 OF THE 
 
 V. \
 
 GEORGE THE THIRD. 
 
 Vol. L 
 
 Eilerton and Byworth, Printers, Johnson's, Court, Fleet Street.
 
 GEORGE THE THIRD 
 
 A NOVEL, 
 
 IN THREE VOLUMES. 
 
 Our lives, discolour'd with our present woes, 
 May still grow white and smile with happier hours. 
 So the pure limpid stream, when foul with stains 
 Of rushing torrents and descending rains, 
 Works itself clear, and as it runs, refines, 
 Till by degrees the floating mirror shines ; 
 Reflects each flow'r that on the border grows, 
 And a new heav'n in, its fair bosom shows. 
 
 CATO, Act I, 
 
 Vol. L 
 
 LONDON: 
 
 PRINTED FOR JAMES CARPENTER, 
 OLD EOND STREET. 
 
 1807.
 
 %X3 
 
 rnnu 
 
 IN the work to which this notice 
 is prefixed, the author has tried, 
 and he hopes not unsuccessfully, 
 to imitate what appear to him to 
 be beauties in similar composi- 
 tions. 
 
 Having always observed how 
 much his own pleasure was in-
 
 creased by the rational practice of 
 placing the contents of each chap- 
 ter at its head* he has accordingly 
 followed this example carefully. 
 He has inserted as many long 
 conversations and amatory dia- 
 logues as he possibly could ; and, 
 in alluding to scenes of vulgarity 
 and vice, has accurately copied 
 the language of the ale-house and 
 the night-cellar. 
 
 And as no man wishes to 
 think that he has done badly 
 what he has endeavoured to do 
 well, he is willing to believe that
 
 Ml 
 
 the commendations usually be- 
 stowed on good intentions will 
 not, in this instance, be with- 
 held.
 
 CHAP. I. 
 
 Containing matters not to be met with in 
 the second, 
 
 Upon the first day of the month of 
 July, in the year 17—, occurred the 
 most, or one of the most important 
 events of my life, whereof, however, I 
 have not myself the smallest recollec- 
 tion ; but then I have heard it so often 
 from good authority, that I believe it 
 almost as firmly as I do any fact re- 
 corded by Herodotus, or Sir ■ ■ 3 I 
 vol. 1. B
 
 have, in short, my mother's word for it ; 
 and, for want of better testimony, the 
 world must now give me credit, when 
 I assert that on the above-mentioned 
 day I was born. 
 
 This alone was an affair sufficiently 
 remarkable to render the day memorable 
 in our family annals 3 but its celebrity 
 was insured by several other circum- 
 stances ; and amongst them by an eclipse 
 of the sun, considered throughout the 
 parish as a certain indication of my 
 future consequence, it being plain to 
 every body that there was an obvious 
 connexion between my birth and the 
 phenomenon; and that, like the mighty 
 luminary, though obscured for a season 
 by disastrous twilight, I should, when 
 it was past, shine out with redoubled 
 lustre.
 
 During the first fifteen years of my 
 life, I was I declare oppressed with a sense 
 of obligation to Heaven, for taking so 
 much trouble on my particular account 
 as to make an eclipse on purpose ; nor 
 was my vanity reduced until I became 
 capable of reflecting that a similar dis- 
 tinction was bestowed on five or six 
 millions of my fellow-creatures, who 
 chanced to be born into divers parts of 
 the habitable globe at the same time 
 that I made my first appearance in the 
 little village of Oakley in shire, 
 
 I have called my birth-place a village, 
 and indeed so it was. By some arrogant 
 persons it has, I know, been styled a 
 town ; but to such an honour I positively 
 aver that it has no more claim, than a leg 
 of mutton has to be denominated a sheep; 
 for it was entirely too small, consisting
 
 jof about thirty houses ; and moreover 
 possessed neither magistrate, post-office 9 
 milliner's shop, nor circulating library. 
 The latter ingredient in the composition 
 of a town was, I allow, a disputed point 
 with reference to Oakley, because Mrs. 
 Strap, the barber's wife, did assert that 
 she kept one ; and notified the same to 
 the public by the following inscription 
 over the door of her husband's dwelling, 
 taking all the responsibility on herself: 
 " Abigail Strap Lic d to sel sope candles 
 forrin sperits, Tobacquo snuf; hard 
 wear; oatmeale stockings; &c. buys 
 olde rags ; Childeren tote, and N, li 
 Boocks lent to read." 
 
 Now though I have been often in the 
 shop, I never could discern any speci- 
 mens of literature, save and except two 
 copies of the Ready Reckoner, and as
 
 5 
 
 many of the renowned history of Valen- 
 tine and Orson : I have therefore a right 
 to infer that this latter declaration was 
 in some measure a flight of fancy on the 
 part of goody Strap, intending to signify- 
 no more than that she was willing to 
 lend books, if she had them. 
 
 Thus, in the spirit of humility, having 
 resigned all pretensions to the eclat of 
 being a native of either a capital, a me- 
 tropolis, or even a town-corporate $ I 
 proceed to inform my readers, that at 
 one extremity of Oakley, and about one 
 furlong from the parish-church, stood, 
 and had stood for a century and a half, 
 the parsonage-house; and it was pro- 
 bably very much fatigued by so great an 
 exertion; for I remember that in my 
 time it was with vast difficulty prevailed 1 
 upon not to fall down. 
 B 3
 
 By how many rectors it had been in- 
 habited I cannot pretend to'say, but the 
 reverend Howe! Ardent was the only one 
 whom I recollect : he was also my father; 
 yet the critic is requested not to coiv 
 elude from hence that he was the father 
 of nobody else; on the contrary, he had 
 amused himself in his leisure moments 
 by begetting eight children besides me. 
 Some of these, to be sure, died in their 
 infancy ; but enough of them grew up> 
 and of the survivors I am the eldest. 
 
 My father's income was merely what 
 he derived from his benefice : had it been 
 in proportion to the extent of his neces- 
 sities, instead of the size of his parish, it 
 would have brought him in something 
 very handsome ; but unluckily this rule 
 is not observed with regard to church 
 livings. In fact the poor parson of:
 
 7 
 
 Oakley found that in his case the matter 
 was conducted on a diametrically op- 
 posite principle ; and that the more he 
 wanted the less he had. 
 
 After saying this, it behoves me to 
 add, by w r ay of explanation, and in de- 
 fence of his character as a divine and a 
 philosopher, that his patience increased 
 with his perplexities : when these bore 
 hard upon him he retreated to his study; 
 and every new affliction was followed by 
 a new sermon; — his collection of ma- 
 nuscripts was enormous. 
 
 Exclusive of my mother and his chil- 
 dren, his chief treasure was a very 
 tolerable stock of books in different 
 languages; and as he had always made 
 good use of these, he was exceedingly 
 well acquainted with their contents. In 
 the discharge of his professional duties he 
 B4
 
 was exemplary; and in his ordinary de- 
 portment, gentle and unassuming. He 
 was a tall, venerable man, with silver 
 hair and a benevolent eye; his voice 
 solemn ; his step slow and dignified ; 
 and if his manner of saluting his ac- 
 quaintances, high and low, was not court- 
 ly, it compensated for that defect by 
 being gracious. 
 
 A person answering this description 
 could not fail to gain the respect and 
 affection of those amongst whom he 
 lived. 
 
 My mother, as the doctor's lady, came 
 in for her share of public and private 
 esteem, and was not without claims on 
 her own account. Her maiden name 
 had been Primrose; and my learned 
 readers will not be surprised to hear 
 that she excelled in the art of making
 
 9 
 
 gooseberry wine, when I tell them that 
 she was niece to the celebrated vicar of 
 Wakefield. 
 
 She inherited much of her aunt's 
 genius in the mysteries of housewifery, 
 as well as her taste in dress - y and at this 
 moment I think I see her, with [a mix- 
 ture of harmless pride and condescen- 
 sion in her face, curtseying to the right 
 and left as she passed through the church 
 yard on her way to prayers of a fine 
 Sunday in summer, receiving the ho- 
 mage of the rustics, who surrounded her 
 and her children; and not a little elated 
 by the praises lavished on her comely 
 young ones and her pearl-coloured sturl 
 gown. 
 
 From this slight sketch of my parents, 
 k will be readily supposed that they 
 were more likely to teach their offspring 
 B a *
 
 10 
 
 pure morals, than elegant manners; and 
 to be satisfied with the prospect of their 
 turning out good, since they could 
 scarcely hope to see them great. 
 
 It is not clear to me whether what I 
 am now about to relate in the history of 
 our family should be considered by my- 
 self as a blessing or a misfortune : per- 
 haps the sequel may decide the question 
 in the minds of those who are so com- 
 plaisant as to accompany me to the con- 
 clusion of my adventures. 
 
 My father had an elder brother, whom 
 I never saw, but have heard him spoken 
 of in the family circle as an extraordi- 
 nary man; and from what I could collect, 
 he must indeed have been so. He never 
 made use either of sugar or salt with his 
 food, when he could avoid it 5 and was 
 almost as sparing of soap; contriving
 
 11 
 
 totally to dispense with it in shaving, 
 and wearing a clean shirt only once a 
 week. He was not however so strict an 
 economist in every respect, for no spend- 
 thrift was ever more liberal of his money 
 than uncle Philip was of paradoxes 5. 
 and one day, when my father and he 
 had dined together, the conversation took 
 such a turn as obliged the former to 
 observe, though with great diffidence, 
 that impossibilities were not possible 3 
 and that, for instance, two and two could 
 hardly be proved to make five. " I am 
 not quite so sure of that," quoth uncle 
 Philip; and immediately put on his hat 
 and went to Calcutta, from which he 
 never returned, but corresponded occa- 
 sionally with an old female cousin of ours 5 
 who was so good as to send him a minute 
 detail of my boyish enormities. Now-
 
 12 
 
 though she was as ugly as a witch, and 
 more malicious, she was not quite so- 
 cunning ; for she could not foresee the 
 consequence of her slanderous reports, 
 the result of which was, that uncle Philip 
 " though he never told his love/' took 
 a liking to my character, and in pro- 
 cess of time, forgetting her, remembered 
 me. 
 
 I had another uncle living in our 
 neighbourhood, as little like my father 
 as the one just mentioned. He was a 
 rich farmer, and a bachelor 5 and distin- 
 guished in the ranks of this last-named 
 amiable and useful class of persons for 
 his moroseness and singularity. 
 
 From the period of his brother's mar- 
 riage he avoided meeting him as much 
 as possible; and swore he would not 
 associate with a man capable of so weak
 
 13 
 
 an action. Nor was this resolution the 
 effect of any particular aversion to my 
 mother, whom he never beheld, and who 
 had never given him any offence, except 
 by being a woman, an infirmity which 
 she could not help. 
 
 This gentleman's extraordinary ill- 
 temper was, as is generally the case with 
 ill-tempered people, ^neither his only 
 failing nor his greatest. He was parti- 
 cularly addicted to the pastimes of 
 drinking punch, and going to law ; and 
 from this union of tastes had suffered 
 some inconveniencies, such as an occa- 
 sional fit of the gout, now and then a 
 horsewhipping, several fails on the high 
 road, and the detestation of almost every 
 one that knew him. 
 
 His appearance would have been very 
 prepossessing, but unfortunately his per-
 
 24 
 
 son was marked by a few traits against 
 which there subsists a sort of prejudice 
 in this part of Europe. He was much 
 below the ordinary height, and had as 
 many bandy legs as he well could have y 
 but in order to save him the mortifica- 
 tion of seeing these, his belly, with great 
 good-nature, projected itself about a foot 
 and a half beyond the line in which they 
 could have been visible. His face, if I 
 may take the freedom of calling it by 
 that name, was more like a certain sign 
 usually entitled " The Saracen's Head," 
 than any thing else ; and the sound of 
 his voice when angry — i. e. always — 
 though not so harmonious, was nearly 
 as loud as the twanging of a postman's 
 horn. 
 
 This charming man was, as I have 
 said, wealthy and single, and might have
 
 15 
 
 proved of the greatest utility to my 
 father in his pecuniary distresses ; but 
 surliness and selfishness combined to 
 hinder his offering what the other's in- 
 dependent spirit disdained to ask : the 
 account of happiness, however, was< 
 pretty well balanced between them ; 
 and my father peaceably ate his dinner 
 of herbs ; whilst my uncle had his stalled 
 ox and hatred therewith. 
 
 Yet on our part no attempt to con- 
 ciliate him had , been neglected ; and 
 amongst the instances of attention shown 
 him, was one which my mother consi- 
 dered as a master-stroke. 
 
 Her first born was a son; and was, in 
 compliment to my uncle, at his baptism 
 named after him, by my mother's advice: 
 notwithstanding which he died shortly 
 before my birth; and my persevering
 
 16 
 
 mother, in defiance of her own belief 
 in omens, and of my father's declara- 
 tion that he would not act in the business 
 one way or the other, resolved to confer 
 the name given to my deceased brother 
 on me, trusting to time and chance for 
 the good effects of her stratagem. 
 
 Whether she was aware of the exten- 
 sive influence maintained over the hu- 
 man mind by what the moralists call 
 Philantia, or self-love, I cannot exactly 
 say; but it is certain that I owe a great 
 deal to this her ingenious device^ and 
 my reader — should my memoirs only 
 teach him the virtue of patience- — has still 
 greater obligations, because but for this 
 circumstance they would probably ne- 
 ver have seen the light. 
 
 My uncle happened to be particular- 
 ly attached to his christian name. What
 
 17 
 
 that was may appear in due time; for 
 the present it is sufficient to assign a rea- 
 son for his partiality, the cause of which 
 was simply that his name was his ozvn. 
 Phis remark will be perfectly satisfac- 
 tory to such as understand the general 
 character of mankind; and Aristotle 
 himself could never make it clear to 
 those who do not. 
 
 It was out of my uncle's power to for- 
 get his christian name -, by the bye, the 
 only mark of a christian about him; but 
 from the distance he preserved towards 
 our household, he was very near going 
 to the other world without hearing mine. 
 An accident however produced the dis- 
 covery ; and the perverse disposition of 
 the man turned it to my advantage. 
 
 When the occurrence took place by 
 which I first became known to him, and
 
 18 
 
 which shall speedily be detailed, I was 
 about twelve years old, taller than boys 
 of that age commonly are, straight, 
 strong, and abounding in animal spirits. 
 Dark curly hair, hazel eyes, white teeth, 
 and ruddy cheeks, united with a suit of 
 very ragged clothes and a constant pro- 
 pensity to laughing, singing, or it might 
 be, weeping, rendered me altogether no 
 every-day nephew : besides which there 
 were some other accomplishments, that 
 must not be left out of the account y I 
 could read and write a little of the lan- 
 guage of my own country, and that of 
 the ancient Romans ; sing the death of 
 admiral Benbow with pathos ; ride like 
 a Tartar, and swim like a water-snake. 
 
 It is not to be supposed that I could 
 have made such advances in literature,, 
 and the fine arts, without the aid of
 
 19 
 
 others : my classical proficiency was the 
 'result of my good father's assiduity, who 
 not being able to afford the expenses of 
 a school education, instructed me him- 
 self for some hours each day ; and the 
 free use of my lungs and limbs I owe 
 to my associating with all the little 
 blackguards in and about our village. 
 
 My father, with whom it was a rule 
 never to lift his own hand for the pur- 
 pose of punishing, had frequently spoken 
 to me on my unworthy inclination to 
 keep low company : but confining him- 
 self to expostulations, his remonstrances 
 had little or no effect ; and I as seldom 
 as possible complied with injunctions 
 which I could not comprehend; but 
 stole away from a lecture on pretty be- 
 haviour to join my favourite companions ; 
 shrewdly concluding that my father's
 
 so 
 
 dislike to my running through the vil- 
 lage without my hat, riding a jack-ass, 
 and jumping into the river, proceeded 
 from his unwillingness to see others do 
 what he was afraid to do himself. 
 
 One <lay, while the rector of Oakley 
 was holding a vestry in the church, I 
 had got loose, and being near the place, 
 with my accustomed thoughtlessness, I 
 flung a stone directly at the east window 
 of the sacred edifice; and without intend- 
 ing to hit any thing, or any body, inge- 
 niously contrived to do both, for I broke 
 to pieces the head of Pontius Pilate in 
 the painted glass, and Yery nearly did 
 as much for the parish clerk ; who, at- 
 tended by my father, and the church- 
 wardens, forthwith rushed out, with a 
 grisly wound in the centre of his fore- 
 head, like that which commonly marks.
 
 21 
 
 the face of Goliab in the picture of his 
 affair with David; and surrounded me — 
 not the youthful and triumphant shep- 
 herd, but a self-condemned and terrified 
 delinquent. 
 
 I was very well inclined to run away* 
 but that was out of my power; and it 
 would be bad for the practitioners at 
 the bar, as well asfor some of their clients., 
 if all law-proceedings were as summary 
 and as equitable as what was now insti- 
 tuted against me; about too minutes 
 serving for my being seized, accused, 
 convicted, and made over unto the se- 
 cular arm of my mother, who was de- 
 sired to inflict on me such chastise- 
 ment as the magnitude of my offence 
 seemed to merit. This was decided to 
 be two-fold; the first half, consisting of 
 an exceedingly tedious invective against
 
 Q& 
 
 the crimes of rebellion, sacrilege, and 
 contempt of the established church, I en- 
 dured, and I am afraid with a very bad 
 grace: the remainder of my sentence 
 comprised solitary confinement and fast- 
 ing until the morrow ; and though un- 
 able to determine which of these was 
 most dreadful, and perfectly convinced 
 that either was intolerable, I was not 
 slow in resolving (if possible) to !es- 
 cape at least one of them ; and accord- 
 ingly, whilst my mother's eyes were di- 
 rected another way, I darted into the 
 passage, and out by the back door, with 
 a degree of agility which would have 
 done credit to any fox in the country. 
 
 I ran with the utmost speed, until, 
 breathless and black in the face -with 
 my exertion, I could run no longer. I 
 then sat down on the road-side, and
 
 might have been about half a mile from 
 the village, when I observed a person 
 riding as I believed in pursuit of me: 
 he soon came up ; and eying me with 
 an aspect inhumanly ferocious, informed 
 me that I was a little scoundrel, and that 
 he would dismount and whip me to 
 death for attempting to break down the 
 fences. 
 
 I denied the charge, and added, that 
 I would tell him what carried me there 
 if he pleased : upon which he called out 5 
 H who are you then, sirrah, and what is 
 your rogue's name ? " I answered that 
 my name was a good name, and the 
 same as my uncle's name ; and that I 
 had often heard my mother say my name 
 would be the making of me. "Have you, 
 you miscreant ! " replied he 3 "and who 
 the devil is your uncle ? "
 
 I told him he was squire Ardent, my 
 father's brother. But I do not think I 
 shall ever forget the expression of his 
 frightful countenance on hearing these 
 words : he gave a lash with his whip that 
 caused the fur to fly off the sides of the 
 poor jade he rode ; and the animal start- 
 ing and wheeling at the same moment, 
 he lost his equilibrium and fell forward; 
 and his foot catching in the stirrup, he 
 would certainly have been dragged 
 along, and probably killed, had I not 
 dexterously seized the bridle, and given 
 him an opportunity to disengage him- 
 self. 
 
 It was not even in his nature to resist 
 such an appeal to his clemency as this 
 was : when he got upon his feet, his 
 manner of speaking to me was softer; 
 he almost ceased to frown ; and, in short,
 
 25 
 
 seemed touched with gratitude;- — so 
 great is the force of that love of self in- 
 herent in us all ! 
 
 He now listened with a kind of surly 
 patience to my relation of the morn- 
 ing's adventure $ in recapitulating which, 
 though I designed to tell nothing that 
 was not true, yet, according to the prin- 
 ciples of mankind, my fault was convert- 
 ed into an accident, and the anger of 
 my parents into an act of tyrannical op- 
 pression. 
 
 My uncle, for it was he, was a very 
 wrong-headed man ; the creature of im- 
 pulse and caprice, and exceedingly ob- 
 stinate: qualities, in the present in- 
 stance, highly favourable to me. He 
 knew that he deserved to be, and of 
 course imagined that he was, disliked 
 by his brother's family; he also sup- 
 
 VOL.L G
 
 26 
 
 posed that, as I bore his name, I must 
 be, on that account, an object of their 
 persecution ; and to spite them, resolved 
 to take me under his protection and 
 patronage,
 
 11 
 
 CHAP. II. 
 
 Full of novelty to such as are ignorant of 
 its contents. 
 
 My uncle remounted his horse, and or- 
 dering me to follow him, proceeded to- 
 wards Oakley; when, as might be ex- 
 pected, we met my father, and several 
 others, advancing in search of me. 
 
 The anxiety of the parties was quickly 
 changed into amazement on perceiving 
 me, not only in my uncle's company, 
 but apparently on a very amicable foot- 
 ing with him. 
 
 My father first addressed him, and 
 C2
 
 28 
 
 in his usual gentle and cordial manner: 
 " Brother, I am glad to see you ; come 
 to our house and rest yourself." — " I 
 have something else to do besides rest- 
 ing myself," replied the other; and then 
 entering directly on the subject that 
 filled his mind, added, " I'll be at a 
 word with you : it is my wish to save, 
 at least one of your miserable children 
 from destruction, by removing him be- 
 yond the reach of your virtues, and 
 those of your wife, forsooth ! You'd 
 spoil the devil himself with your lessons 
 of piety and all that ; and have already 
 nearly ruined this boy, whom, with your 
 good leave, I should like to make a man 
 of There's some stuff in him, I see 
 that; he must, however, away from 
 you, and soon, to a good school, and I 
 will be answerable for his expenses. "
 
 29 
 
 Joy and astonishment kept my father 
 mute: yet though his tongue was mo- 
 tionless, his countenance was eloquent 5 
 but my uncle did not understand read- 
 ing countenances, and thus continued: 
 " So, I suppose you wo'nt comply ; for 
 fear of your wife, I dare say : with all 
 my heart — I shall not repeat my offer : 
 she would be the death of the child, I 
 doubt not, because he is my name-sake: 
 
 I am much indebted to her And you P 
 
 who as a man ought to have some sense, to 
 go and frighten the fool out of his wits, 
 only for breaking one of your super- 
 stitious windows !" — "Brother," exclaim- 
 ed my father, " it was not so much the 
 window as the poor clerk's head that 
 
 I ." " Damn the clerk's head," 
 
 cried my mild protector ; come to the 
 
 point -, is it yes or no ? answer me at 
 
 C S
 
 30 
 
 once, and let me go about what I have 
 got to do elsewhere." 
 
 My father acceded, as may be ima- 
 gined, most willingly; and, with every 
 expression of thankfulness, assured his 
 brother that I should be fitted, out and 
 sent off to an eminent school at a con- 
 siderable distance from home in the 
 course of a few days. 
 
 Satisfied with this promise, but with- 
 out one word of kindness or civility, 
 this original turned his horse's head, 
 and speedily disappeared; while my 
 father, taking me by the hand, led me 
 home, congratulating me, as we went, 
 on my good fortune, and exhorting me 
 to conduct myself accordingly. 
 
 On our arrival at the parsonage, and 
 my adventure being related to my mo- 
 ther, her anger was lost in triumph and
 
 31 
 
 exultation. She attributed, and indeed 
 with more justice than she was aware of, 
 this sudden turn of affairs to herself; 
 and, in less than half an hour, had not 
 only preferred me to a bishoprick, but 
 married off one of my sisters to a young 
 baronet, and provided for brother Dick 
 in the church through my interest. 
 
 My sensations on this great occasion 
 were tumultuous: nor am I quite cer- 
 tain that I was either as joyful or as 
 grateful as I ought to have been. The 
 best method I can pursue, in order to 
 account for this, will be to give a candid 
 description of my own character at this 
 period. 
 
 It has already been seen, that I was 
 volatile; and having admitted this, I 
 shall be so bold as to add, however ex- 
 traordinary it may appear, that I had 
 c4
 
 3% 
 
 then no other fault ; but, on the coiv 
 trary, a great number of those amiable 
 qualities and goodly propensities > which 
 every one who examines the young and 
 innocent carefully, will be sure to find; 
 which are indeed the seeds of all that is 
 great and noble in man, but which,, 
 by communion with the false ones of 
 the world, are perpetually converted 
 into follies that degrade and vices that 
 destroy. Oh ! happy days of early life > 
 when, as Rousseau beautifully says, c: le 
 rire est toujours sur les levres et Tame 
 est toujours en paix ;" when to-morrow 
 is disregarded and yesterday forgotten ; 
 when every sun-beam sheds delight, and 
 health is wafted with every gale that 
 blows; often have I wished that I had 
 never known you, or known no other ! 
 Yet this exclamation is not,, what it
 
 33 
 
 may appear to be, the dictate of re- 
 morse, resulting from the consciousness 
 of criminality ; for of actual crimes I 
 have not to accuse myself; but it arises 
 from a lively recollection of the mani- 
 fold absurdities I have fallen into, and 
 the vexations I have suffered, by being 
 of a nature not suited to the scenes into 
 which my untoward fate has plunged 
 me. 
 
 With sorrow have I frequently re° 
 called the image of my childhood, and 
 compared what such a creature might 
 have been, with what the perverse cus- 
 toms of mankind have made of me $ 
 nor can I, with any tranquillity, reflect 
 on the metamorphosis I have under- 
 gone. 
 
 Some knowledge of the world, indeed^ 
 I have obtained, but at what a price I I 
 . C5
 
 34 
 
 have bartered a pure heart, for one 
 thoroughly acquainted with evil; sim- 
 plicity, for artifice; universal confidence* 
 for almost universal mistrust. 
 
 Virtue was my father's idol : he taught 
 me her lovely precepts ; and I remem- 
 ber them, for first impressions are never 
 lost ; but he should have done for me 
 either more or less ; have left me in the 
 state of obscurity for which I was na- 
 turally designed; or sent me into life, 
 armed for the conflict. Alas ! he did 
 neither; but having incessantly told 
 me of the beauties of moral rectitude ; 
 the high estimation in which mankind 
 held him who persevered in his integri- 
 ty; the prosperity which awaited the 
 good, and the downfal of those who do 
 evil, he thrust me forth, that I might my- 
 self witness the truth of his assurances.
 
 35 
 
 With what success this experiment 
 was attended will present!}' appear: I 
 shall only hazard in this place one ge- 
 neral observation, without any reference 
 to myself; that the person who goes 
 abroad provided with the above-record- 
 ed exalted maxims, and means to adhere 
 to them, had better abstain from making 
 bargains ! 
 
 A celebrated boarding-school at a dis- 
 tance of fifty miles from Oakley was 
 made choice of, and our family put up- 
 on short allowance for a month, that I 
 might be supplied with a proper stock 
 of clothes, linen, &c. ; and the day of my 
 departure by the stage-coach being fix- 
 ed on, I was desired to write a letter of 
 thanks, and promises of good conduct, 
 to my uncle, who had given orders that 
 I should not wait on him,
 
 36 
 
 The composition of this same letter 
 was to me a very formidable task: I was 
 in a fever during the process, and de- 
 stroyed no less than four copies before I 
 could please myself y the fifth was of 
 course by no means the best, unless its 
 being the shortest might make it so;, 
 but I thought it equal to anything of 
 the kind from the pen of Cicero, who, I 
 am firmly persuaded, wrote his most fi- 
 nished epistle to Atticus with less trou- 
 ble, and even less self-applause. 
 
 This choice production was, as far as 
 I can remember it, exactly as follows, 
 
 " Honoured uncle, 
 
 " I return you many thanks 
 for the passion you was in with me, and 
 for all other kind marks of regard you 
 have showed me, I am to set out for
 
 37 
 
 school on Thursday. I know Latin 
 pretty well. I can read Phsedrus and 
 Eutropius. I do not know Greek gram- 
 mar, which is hard. My father and 
 mother, and brothers and sisters, send 
 you their humble duty. I am, honour- 
 ed uncle, your dutiful and obedient ne- 
 phew." 
 
 The day of my departure at lengtli 
 came, and I beheld it dawn with a 
 heavy and foreboding heart, which will 
 appear extraordinary to any one who 
 considers that I could not possibly be 
 aware of the character of that world in- 
 to which I was going. Besides, my af- 
 fectionate father and mother did allthey 
 could to raise my spirits : the latter 
 made me a present of a Bible with bra- 
 zen clasps, and hoped I should not be
 
 38 
 
 flogged vert/ often; and my father com- 
 plimented me with a repetition, that 
 lasted about two hours, of all he had 
 ever said on the subject of good beha- 
 viour, and its happy consequences ; and 
 then (having previously by letter advised 
 the superintend ant of the academy of 
 my coming) gave me in charge to the 
 driver of a Diligence, who early next day 
 set me down at the gate of a large anti- 
 quated brick building, nearly surround- 
 ed by trees, and apparently the forsaken 
 mansion of some family of distinction in 
 former times. 
 
 I was here received rather graciously 
 by the master, and introduced by him 
 to about thirty boys, who were, like mjv 
 self, boarders under his tuition. 
 
 Our ruler was a very peculiar person- 
 age both in appearance and manners;
 
 39 
 
 of his exterior, which I shall try to deli- 
 neate, I despair of being able to afford 
 an adequate idea : he was a short, mid- 
 dle-aged man, extremely corpulent, with 
 a broad round face of a deep purple co- 
 lour, which, aided by the constant em- 
 bellishment of a highly-powdered wig, 
 looked exceedingly like a red cabbage 
 after a heavy fall of snow : his dress was 
 composed of a suit of bluish-grey cloth, 
 adorned with large jet buttons ; plaited 
 cambric ruffles, and black worsted stock- 
 ings -, at his knees a pair of immense or- 
 naments of cut-steel, and huge silver 
 buckles in his shoes. 
 
 He was a good classical scholar; very 
 strict in maintaining proper discipline; 
 and upon the whole honourable and im- 
 partial in his treatment of such as wer® 
 committed to his care. But these excel-
 
 40 
 
 lencies were in some measure counter- 
 balanced by his possessing an inordinate 
 share of self-conceit ; and such confi- 
 dence in the efficacy of birch-rods, that 
 there was no fault which man could be 
 guilty of, or misfortune he could suffer, 
 that was not attributed by doctor Flay- 
 bottom to the neglect of whipping. 
 
 How often the cuticle of a certain 
 portion of my system was lacerated dur- 
 ing my career at his school, I do not 
 wish to remember; but I am perfectly 
 sure, that on quitting it there was very 
 little of the original left ; and yet the 
 inflictions I endured were trivial, com- 
 pared with those of many of my compa- 
 nions, And here it may not be impro- 
 per to observe* that the consequence of 
 corporal chastisement is always detri- 
 mental .5 it hardens the untoward and
 
 41 
 
 vitiates the generous disposition : if it 
 should produce assiduity, which it hard- 
 ly ever does, study ceases to be a plea- 
 sure, and the allotted task is performed 
 under the impression of what is most un- 
 friendly to the due exertion of the hu- 
 man faculties, terror: it inculcates false- 
 hood, the basest of all worldly qualities $. 
 by which faults are concealed and 
 changed into habits, instead of being 
 corrected by exposure: and it teaches, 
 in language intelligible to every capa- 
 city, the grand mystery of tyranny, — * 
 
 4 
 
 the art of governing by force. And in- 
 deed it is perhaps as much owing to this 
 part of the management of public schools, 
 as to any thing else, that the corruption 
 of public morals is so general : and that 
 depravity of mind is not only cherished 
 by such an institution as an extensive
 
 42 
 
 boarding-school, but the necessary con- 
 sequence of it, will I believe be readily 
 granted by any person, who, having re- 
 ceived his education in a place of this 
 description, takes the trouble of recall- 
 ing some circumstances to which he 
 must have been witness, while residing 
 in the society of " miniature men," as 
 school-boys have very justly been styled. 
 Can he avoid recollecting that himself 
 and his associates were perpetually prac- 
 tising in little, what he has afterwards 
 observed to constitute the chief occupa- 
 tions of men on the great and busy stage 
 of life ? The pursuits and the motives of 
 each are the same ; battles are fought, al- 
 liances formed, animosities kept alive, 
 and plots and counterplots devised. The 
 thirst of gain, the love of command, the 
 pride of wealth, the meanness of the flat-
 
 43 
 
 terer, the haughtiness of the bully, be- 
 long as incontestibly to boys in the 
 school, as to their fathers in the world. 
 
 These reflexions I assuredly did not 
 make, when first I bowed beneath the 
 sceptre of doctor Flaybottom -> but I felt 
 the fact even then - 3 and passed the night, 
 which followed the day of my arrival, in 
 sighs and moans. I summed up every 
 instance of tenderness in my affectionate 
 father, my mother, and my sisters ; I re- 
 membered the fields wherein I had so 
 often strayed ; and even the meek and 
 amicable countenance of our pet dog 
 Trout, my constant playmate, was not 
 forgotten : in short, I thought on sweet 
 home, and all its dear accompaniments, 
 with such intenseness, that although 
 sleep at length surprised me, it did not 
 by any means destroy the images which
 
 44 
 
 engaged my fancy ; for in my dream I 
 found myself once more at the parson- 
 age of Oakley, and was in raptures at 
 the discovery, when the loud tolling of 
 a bell, and the noise of many strange 
 voices, put an end to my slumbers and 
 my happiness. It was the time of 
 prayer, and I was ordered in an impe- 
 rious tone, by one of the elder boys, to 
 rise and join the rest. 
 
 This ceremony was distinguished by 
 every thing appropriated to an act of 
 piety, except devotion ; silence, solem- 
 nity, and sad faces; and amongst the 
 most dismal visages was mine, for many 
 strong reasons : but this horror wore off 
 by degrees ; and though I learned no- 
 thing of the nature and attributes of 
 Deity, and disliked the bare idea of 
 kneeling down, I did not while in that
 
 45 
 
 attitude lose my time, having, before I 
 left school, carved my initials with a 
 penknife on all the forms, and counted 
 all the cobwebs that festooned the ceil- 
 ing. 
 
 For this I ought to have been punish- 
 ed, and was not ; but I received on one 
 occasion some blows for inability to ex- 
 plain a chapter in the Apocalypse, which, 
 as may be supposed, made me very fond 
 of reading the New Testament. 
 
 Instead of advancing, as I did, rapidly 
 in my studies, I should in all likelihood 
 have been moulded into a pusillanimous, 
 mischievous, and ignorant idler, had it 
 not been for a most excellent practice 
 of an usher we had, who was a young 
 man of deep erudition, and of a temper 
 so philosophic that nothing could dis- 
 compose it. He totally disapproved of
 
 46 
 
 the use of the rod -, and was so wise 
 as to perceive, that to inspire fear was 
 not the best method of restraining youth 
 from the commission of evil actions, or 
 inciting them to good ; but that these 
 great and desirable ends were to be at- 
 tained, with nine boys out of ten, by be- 
 stowing praise or withholding it. And 
 this principle he pursued so judiciously, 
 as to produce the most astonishing ef- 
 fects: for he actually elicited, and might 
 almost be said to have created faculties 
 where they seemed not to exist. 
 
 If, for example, in the compositions 
 handed to him for perusal before they 
 were presented to the doctor, he dis- 
 cerned that the writer evinced a lively 
 imagination and an unfaithful memory, 
 he took occasion, a day or two after, in 
 a serious tone to compliment him on his
 
 47 
 possessing this latter quality of the mind; 
 and invariably the result of this excel- 
 lent artifice was, that the boy endea- 
 voured to maintain his supposed reputa- 
 tion, until he really acquired what he 
 had not before. 
 
 Mr. Gay, which was the name of this 
 assistant in the school of doctor Flay- 
 bottom, was, when I first knew him, 
 about three -and -twenty years of age 5 
 descended from an ancient but im- 
 poverished family, and, like myself, the 
 son of a clergyman. On quitting the 
 university he had taken orders, having 
 left Oxford with the highest character 
 for talents and moral worth ; and his 
 father* being very poor, encouraged him 
 to accept the situation in which I found 
 him, until he could obtain a curacy for 
 his support ; but immediately after, his
 
 48 
 
 father died, and he was left destitute 
 His salary from our governor was very 
 small, yet his humility was such that he 
 always appeared contented : he was not 
 indeed cheerful, but usually wore a look 
 of mild melancholv, which I remember 
 attracted me the moment I beheld him. 
 
 His countenance was amongst those 
 rare ones that bring glad tidings to the 
 unhappy; banish all suspicion, invite 
 the timid, and say to those who are 
 troubled, " I will help you." I instinc- 
 tively fled to him for shelter from the 
 rudeness of my school-fellows in the com- 
 mencement of our acquaintance: and 
 he did shelter and sooth me; and under 
 many a future tribulation and difficulty, 
 was my solace and support. 
 
 Possessing uncommon penetration, he 
 quickly saw into my character, and
 
 49 
 
 treated me accordingly: he strewed 
 with flowers my painful up-hill path as 
 a learner; and my progress was, as I 
 have already said, a rapid one. 
 
 It was not, however, in his power to 
 do much for me during my first year; 
 when I was, agreeably to the custom of 
 the school, more particularly under the 
 care of the master himself. In this pe- 
 riod, therefore, unthinking and bewilder- 
 ed as I was, I gained little else than 
 unmerited floggings, a portion of syn- 
 tax, great dexterity in plundering or- 
 chards, and numberless black-eyes. 
 
 Nature had not intended me, as I 
 very well know, either for a thief or a 
 prize-fighter : but wonderful is the force 
 of example, and more wondrous still 
 that of ridicule; I was laughed out of 
 both my probity #nd my gentleness} 
 
 VOL. I. D
 
 50 
 
 and with an unimpaired abhorrence of 
 dishonesty and quarrelling, I neverthe- 
 less became expert as a boxer and a 
 robber.
 
 51 
 
 CHAP. III. 
 
 Which they zvho are unacquainted with know 
 nothing about, 
 
 ABOUT this period my dear friend Gay 
 came seasonably to my aid, encouraged 
 me in my literary pursuits, and, by his 
 advice in other matters, contributed most 
 essentially to my benefit. Whatever 
 philosophy I possess, I owe to his kind- 
 ness: nor should I have had so much 
 occasion for it as I afterwards found, 
 had I attended to all his valuable coun- 
 sels. 
 
 In one instance particularly I neg- 
 lected his repeated warnings, and at a 
 
 LIBRARY 
 
 UNIVERSITY OF HUNOB
 
 •52 
 
 future day suffered the merited punish- 
 ment. 
 
 I had kept up a constant correspon- 
 dence with my father, and occasionally 
 with my uncle. The latter declared him- 
 self satisfied with the improvements 1 
 had made, and both agreed that on all 
 accounts it was advisable for me 3 in- 
 stead of returning home at vacation- 
 time, as most of the other boys did, to 
 remain where J was. 
 
 Under this necessity I was consoled 
 by having the society of my friend Gay ; 
 but I discovered a still greater source of 
 -consolation in that of a boy somewhat 
 older than myself, whose name was 
 Markham. He was an orphan, heir to 
 a very large fortune, and had for his 
 guardian an old dignitary, to whom he 
 was distantly related ; and who, unwill-
 
 as 
 
 ing to take more trouble about him than 
 was absolutely unavoidable^ indulged 
 him with an immoderate allowance 
 for his pocket, and left him for some 
 years a permanent inmate at Dr.F.'s. 
 
 It should be observed, that I was of 
 a character by no means uncommon 
 among the weaker and less vicious 
 classes of mankind,-—/ could not exist 
 without a confidant: some one I must 
 have, with whom to repose my joys, my 
 sorrows, my wishes, and my fears; and 
 Markham appeared the person formed 
 for the participation of my friendship. 
 
 His manners were insinuating; he 
 sought me out, and made me his insepara- 
 ble companion; and was the foremost to 
 condole with me for any mishap which 
 had befallen me : when I was melan- 
 choly, he was silent and serious ; when 
 J>3
 
 04 
 
 exhilarated, his spirits rose in propor- 
 tion. 
 
 He indeed was dull as a scholar, and 
 far from diligent; but 1 was the reverse,, 
 and gave him often considerable assist- 
 tance. Besides, on all occasions of mu- 
 tual misdemeanor, though he had his 
 full share in each, I could not but notice 
 that the punishment lighted upon me. 
 
 Gay, without knowing much of the 
 world, was not quite such a believer as 
 my father in the universal existence and 
 prosperity of virtue. He discerned, 
 with his usual acuteness, Markham's 
 real disposition, as well as mine (and 
 doubtless the sagacious reader has by 
 this time done the same), and cautioned 
 me in the most persuasive language 
 against him. Alas ! his endeavours were 
 thrown away : I could not be convinced
 
 55 
 
 that his admonitions were not the dic- 
 tates of prejudice: or even admitting 
 them to be founded in fact ; could I for- 
 get that I had one evening vowed to 
 him unalterable friendship, after having 
 read together the story of Damon and 
 Pythias, and covenanted to know each 
 other only by those immortal namete* 
 and to sustain to all eternity the charac- 
 ters we had assumed ? It will be seen, 
 that, although our compact of attach- 
 ment did not last quite so long, it lasted 
 full long enough. Let me however ad- 
 vance gradually in my story. 
 
 As reason opened, my literary ardour 
 increased ; and I applied myself to books 
 with such avidity as pleased Flaybottom 
 exceedingly, and left him no longer any 
 excuse for the administration of his 
 birchen panacea in my case, or even for 
 D 4
 
 5& 
 
 scolding; on the contrary, he seemed 
 to take delight in every effort I made to 
 excel, particularly when my Latin com- 
 positions in verse or prose answered his 
 idea of pure writing; on which subject 
 he had published an ingenious essay; 
 for, to do him justice, he was thorough- 
 ly acquainted with the various styles of 
 the great writers of antiquity. 
 
 One of the consequences of my assi- 
 duity was, that he reported me favour- 
 ably more than once in letters to my fa- 
 ther, who sent them regularly to my 
 uncle ; and thus ensured me a continu- 
 ance of his protection ; and when five 
 years had elapsed, and I was past seven- 
 teen, obtained for me not only his con- 
 sent for my going to Oxford, but a pro- 
 mise of enabling me, whilst there, to 
 support the appearance of a gentleman.
 
 57 
 
 On his promise I relied with confi- 
 dence ; for amidst all his faults a breach 
 of his word could not be counted ; and 
 filled with thankfulness, I wrote to him, 
 requesting he would permit me, as I de- 
 signed visiting Oakley before Iwent to 
 the university, also to pay my respects 
 to him. This, in his reply, he peremp- 
 torily refused^ concluding the letter in 
 terms which I then thought very enig- 
 matical : he had private reasons, he said, 
 why I should not go to him. 
 
 These private reasons were afterwards 
 sufficiently explained; but for the pre- 
 sent his rejection of my petition to wait 
 on him confounded me; nor could I 
 comprehend why a near relation, who 
 expended his money liberally for my 
 advantage, should dislike to see the ob- 
 ject of his bounty. I communicated 
 D 5-
 
 58 
 
 this circumstance to my father, and ac- 
 quainted him with my intention of pass- 
 ing a few weeks at the rectory, a hap- 
 piness I longed for most eagerly; and 
 that then it was determined I should pro- 
 ceed to Oxford, and join my friend 
 Markham, who w 7 as going as a gentle- 
 man-commoner to Christ-Church, while 
 I designed to enter as a commoner at 
 — college, with Flaybottom's recom- 
 mendation, who had been a member of 
 that society. 
 
 Previous to my departure from school, 
 the good and attentive Gay sent for me 
 to his room, and there taking my hand 
 in both of his, in a manner so affec- 
 tionate and impressive that 1 shall never 
 forget it, wished me prosperity; renew- 
 ed his admonitions against associating 
 on too familiar terms with Markham,
 
 59 
 
 and such as were like him ; and added, 
 u I have frequently presumed on the 
 strength of our intimacy, and the acci- 
 dent of being older than you, to give 
 you general advice as to your conduct : 
 we are parting; and in separation we 
 may correspond; — but, unless you ask 
 it, my character as a monitor moram 
 ceases to-day. On another subject 1 
 cannot so readily consent to yield my 
 place, but am desirous that you should 
 carry with you some token of my anxiety 
 for your welfare as a student, and have 
 therefore drawn up a few directions, 
 which, if you will use them, for want of 
 better, may be of some service, and 
 prove no unpleasant memento of the 
 happy hours we have passed in the in- 
 nocent and delightful employment o£ 
 reading,"
 
 m 
 
 He then gave me a small manuscript; 
 and hearkening with polite and friendly 
 attention to my thanks, and assurances 
 of lasting gratitude and esteem, bid me 
 fareweL 
 
 The contents of the little book were 
 indeed of a nature not to be despised; 
 and I am willing to hope that Gay's ex- 
 cellent hints for a course of study were 
 not entirely lost on me, Nothing could 
 be more luminous, more eloquent, more 
 enticing, than the style employed by 
 this young man in the view he had taken 
 of general literature, and in recom- 
 mending particular authors in science, 
 belles-lettres, and moral philosophy. 
 
 In this treatise, which is now before 
 me, though decidedly paxtial to the an- 
 cients, he does not by any means ex- 
 clude the moderns from a claim to ad-
 
 61 
 
 miration and applause ; but lie takes 
 pains to show, and indeed does it I think 
 successfully, that the eminent of former 
 days were our masters in almost every 
 part of intellectual excellence ; and that 3 
 at least as far as the historians, poets, . 
 and orators are concerned, the greatest 
 beauties which shine in the pages of 
 modern composition, already exist in 
 the works bequeathed to us by Greece 
 and Rome. 
 
 After these and similar prefatory ob- 
 servations, he proceeds to discuss most 
 ingeniously the advantages that a man 
 acquires in attempting to procure a 
 well-stored mind : he expatiates on the 
 sublimity of astronomical inquiry ; the 
 satisfaction arising from the discovery 
 of mathematical truth ; the charms and 
 wonders which natural history unfolds 5
 
 69 
 
 the calmness of soul and invincible for- 
 titude produced by perusing the pre- 
 cepts of the philosopher; and the know- 
 ledge, not merely of human affairs, but 
 of human character, contained in the 
 volumes of the historian. 
 
 Had I not before been addicted to 
 study, this would have made me assidu- 
 ous: I was fascinated; and on reaching 
 home^ showed Gay's present exultingly 
 to my father, with an assurance that I 
 intended scrupulously to make it my 
 guide. 
 
 He seemed gratified by my resoluv 
 tion, and on perceiving that I had not 
 wasted my time while absent from him. 
 
 On inquiring for some of my former 
 humble friends, I found that most, of 
 them had left Oakley ; several in the ca- 
 pacity of soldiers and seamen, and not a
 
 63 
 
 few of them charged with the sin of 
 poaching. Amongst the exiles I parti- 
 cularly lamented a hardy fellow, one 
 Ned Blunt, to whom I was under weigh- 
 ty obligations; as he had been my con- 
 stant champion, and once, at the hazard 
 of his life, had saved me from being 
 drawn under a water-mill and crushed 
 to death ; and afterwards suffered a se- 
 vere whipping in silence, rather than tell 
 why he came home so wet ! 
 
 I shook hands cordiallv with the cleric, 
 whom I may call the founder of my 
 greatness. It must nevertheless strike 
 my indulgent reader, as it has frequent- 
 ly struck me, that affairs in this world 
 are strangely conducted. My father's 
 exemplary life and virtuous struggles 
 were rewarded by. his being almost 
 starved through want, and heart-broken
 
 64 
 
 with cares ; while, on my part, I was 
 taken up from the depths of neglect and 
 obscurity, and put into the high road of 
 fortune, by the happy casualty (for as I 
 did not intend the act, I disclaim any 
 share of the merit) of cracking the os 
 fronds of a laborious and innocent poor 
 devil, by throwing a stone at a church- 
 window. This I consider as one of my 
 lucky hits:- — better deeds have not al- 
 ways produced such agreeable conse- 
 quences ! 
 
 While I remained at home, my feel- 
 ings were all of the most pleasurable 
 kind; my father repeatedly expressing 
 the comfort he derived from my having 
 obtained so good a character at school ; 
 encouraging me to persevere, and as- 
 suring me that my becoming a great 
 man was altogether unavoidable ; "for
 
 65 
 
 your uncle," said he, " although he is 
 rather of an extraordinary disposition, 
 and never lets any of us know what are 
 his circumstances, will undoubtedly pro- 
 vide handsomely for you : and indeed? 
 even without his farther assistance, you 
 may depend on getting forward in the 
 world by your learning and virtue : and 
 above all things, my dear boy, remem- 
 ber what I have so often endeavoured to 
 impress on you and others, that the ( 
 righteous man is never forsaken, but, on 
 the contrary, that every good act he per- 
 forms is certain to be followed by its re- 
 compense. The reward of virtue is" — 
 he grew warm< — u is most sure and am- 
 ple : its greatest and best is, you know, 
 reserved for a future state of being; but 
 in. our present condition, where the 
 wicked are troubled and the good are
 
 66 
 
 happy, goodness confers on those who 
 practise it perpetual self-satisfaction and 
 ease of mind) and procures them the re- 
 spect, admiration, and gratitude of their 
 - fellow-creatures. Have we not hourly 
 instances of this fact?" — At which mo- 
 ment a letter was delivered to him that 
 threw him into some agitation ; on read- 
 ing it, he exclaimed, " Was ever the like ! 
 was ever any thing so unfortunate, and 
 just at this time too!" — I asked what 
 had happened^ and he informed me 
 that the letter was from a man of large 
 property in London, to whom, several 
 years before, he had shown much civi- 
 lity, and lent fifteen pounds upon an ur- 
 gency; "And now," said he, "that I 
 apply to him for it, he actually denies 
 that he ever had a farthing of my mo- 
 ney, and adds, that, with, all my appa^
 
 rent sanctity, he is afraid I am no better 
 than a swindler." 
 
 As I knew it was on my account that 
 my father wanted the money in ques- 
 tion, I satisfied him, by displaying a 
 large sum, the fruits of my uncled boun- 
 ty and my own economy -, and soon 
 after took leave of my family, and pro- 
 ceeded to Oxford.
 
 68 
 
 CHAP. IY. 
 
 Various particulars supposed necesssary 
 to the progress of this history. 
 
 On arriving, at the university, I found 
 Markham and several more of my for- 
 mer acquaintances at different colleges. 
 With them, however, for a long time, I 
 had scarcely any intercourse; and in- 
 deed made the most of my time and op- 
 portunities during my two first years; 
 particularly in the vacations, when I re- 
 mained at the university, and read with 
 the utmost constancy and attention ^ 
 profiting greatly by Gay's memoranda*
 
 89 
 
 and occasionally receiving from him 
 the most agreeable letters, as well as 
 from my father : but, and it will appear 
 extraordinary, not a line from my bene- 
 factor, except when he sent me a remit- 
 tance ; and then only to desire an ac- 
 knowledgment by return of post. 
 
 Instead of inserting a minute account 
 of the multifarious pursuits, literary and 
 licentious, of my fellow-students ; or 
 giving a history of the discipline ob- 
 served in the celebrated seat of letters 
 where I resided, I shall present my 
 readers with a compendious view of these 
 matters by transcribing the contents of 
 a small pamphlet, which I wrote and 
 privately printed at the time, in order 
 to raise a laugh at the expense of a 
 certain set of idlers, with whom, I con- 
 fess^ that I now and then used to mix3
 
 70 
 
 and as one " cannot touch pitch without 
 being defiled," it may easily be ima- 
 gined, that I was not barely a spectator 
 of the absurdities I attempted to expose. 
 
 In this slight performance it will be 
 seen that, leaving the castigation of 
 crime to abler hands, I have but glanced 
 at formidable debauchery, and taken 
 my steadier aim at those childish and 
 low and pitiful practices by which the 
 most precious period of human exist- 
 ence, the "May of life," is so often la- 
 mentably and irretrievably lost. 
 
 This trifle had for a title—
 
 71 
 
 A FEW 
 
 GENERAL DIRECTIONS 
 
 TOR THE CONDUCT 
 
 OF 
 
 YOUNG GENTLEMEN 
 
 JN THE ' '] 
 
 UNIVERSITY OF OXFORD*. 
 
 " Having a very great regard for the 
 honour of the University of Oxford, and 
 being desirous that the youth who are 
 placed there to receive a polite educa- 
 tion, should reap the advantages of it, 
 by knowing how to make use of the 
 time commonly dedicated to that pur- 
 pose, I beg leave to offer a few direc- 
 tions and rules of behaviour to their 
 serious attention, which, carefully ob- 
 * Printed at Oxford in 1795.
 
 72 
 
 served, can scarcely &il of rendering 
 them very amiable in the character of 
 gownsmen, and, at a future period, very 
 respectable members of society. 
 
 " The benefit resulting from an edu- 
 cation at the university has been gene- 
 rally allowed; nevertheless the fond pa- 
 rent is often heard to lament the vast 
 expenses attending it; and, deterred by 
 a prospect of these, and by the reflex- 
 ion that his boy, like others, may, on 
 leaving Oxford, return vicious and 
 ignorant, instead of virtuous and learned, 
 refuses his son the opportunity of ac- 
 quiring liberal endowments; and con- 
 demns a young man, perhaps of a do- 
 cile disposition and brilliant genius, to 
 drudge all his life either at a desk or in 
 -a farm-yard. 
 
 " I shall at once remove the chief
 
 76 
 
 subject of a father's apprehension, the 
 expense, by acquainting him, that he 
 has been misinformed. — At present in 
 Oxford, money is nearly useless : an as- 
 sertion which no one, who knows that 
 place now and its manners and customs, 
 will dare to dispute. And of this I 
 hope to convince my young reader also. 
 
 " That I may be more intelligible, I 
 shall address an individual in the situa- 
 tion thv.t first entitles him to the name 
 of an Oxonian ; as a freshman just ma- 
 triculated; trusting, that if I give him 
 good impressions in the beginning of 
 his course, he will not lose them as he 
 advances. 
 
 " After being indulged by your 
 
 destined tutor with an entertaining walk 
 
 to the top of He a ding ton-hill, or through 
 
 St. John's gardens, you are now, sir, to 
 
 vol. i, E
 
 74 
 
 all intents and purposes, a gownsman; 
 and, for reasons of my own, I shall 
 suppose you a gentleman-commoner. 
 
 " Instinct will tell you not to be 
 guilty of paying your tailor for your 
 new cap and gown : these you must 
 have, and must wear, or be punished; 
 and it is the tailor's business to supply 
 you. As to what he may suffer by non- . 
 payment, make your mind easy, by the 
 following reflexion on tradesmen of 
 -every description : Oxford tradesmen are 
 such for the express ends of being ruined 
 by giving credit, and kicked when they 
 complain: and admitting that not to be 
 the fact, still, as it is generally their fate, 
 you are not to imagine that a conduct 
 on your part different from that of 
 others, would have any effect in their 
 favour; and you ought always to join.
 
 75 
 
 with the multitude, rather than appear 
 singular. 
 
 " Like every spirited young man, 
 you will doubtless be ambitious of ex- 
 hibiting your new ornaments in public ; 
 — but, do this gradually; first lounge, and 
 study attitude before your college-gate ; 
 when you may practise dashing things 
 on a small scale ; such as staring at 
 ladies as they pass; spitting on an old 
 woman's cloak; or laughing at some 
 plodding servitor; a man, who, nine 
 times in ten, deserves every kind of 
 insult, because he is usually poor, mo- 
 dest, and learned; circumstances which 
 have been always considered as suffi- 
 ciently provoking. 
 
 " You may then venture to the 
 parks; and, at last, into the High-street, 
 which is to be so often the scene of
 
 76 
 
 action, while you reside at the uni- 
 versity. 
 
 " There the resources to an inge- 
 nious mind are numberless. You may 
 \>e intellectually employed in watching 
 the arrival of stage-coaches ; or, you 
 anay fasten your face to the window of 
 the print-shop for half an hour, and be 
 thereby almost as much enlightened as 
 entertained: this may be called, with- 
 out a pun, a standing fund of amuse- 
 ment. 
 
 " I need not insist on the delight of 
 parading up and down this beautiful 
 avenue during the whole day; where 
 you may examine, with critical atten- 
 tion, the proportions of cart-horses, the 
 .•canvas coverings of waggons, and the 
 complexions of servant-maids. 
 
 " At college, also, you have much
 
 77 
 
 to do : for instance, to make acquaint- 
 ances, and fill up" the desiderata in the 
 furniture of your rooms. 
 
 " On the first of these points, I re- 
 commend your making as hasty a 
 choice as possible ; that is, weigh cir- 
 cumstances, yet lose no time. In the 
 first party to which you are introduced, 
 give up your whole confidence to those 
 who swear with most spirit, talk most, 
 and drink most. You may be sure they 
 are men of a superior cast, or they 
 would never shine in any of these quali- 
 fications : whereas, they who say little, 
 and drink less, are timid, cautious rep- 
 tiles, and are probably making remarks 
 on the innocent gaiety of the rest. 
 
 " Be particularly careful to find out 
 those who are men of good families and 
 profuse extravagance; they are of
 
 78 
 
 course persons of consequence, under- 
 stand life, and will teach you liberal 
 notions. From them you will learn all 
 that I could tell you on various topics \ 
 and to encourage you, you will have 
 the advantage of example, which you 
 know is beyond precept. 
 
 " They will tell you, and indeed 
 with great truth, that learning, as that 
 phrase is vulgarly understood, is a farce; 
 that religion is a bore; your tutor a 
 quiz; and college discipline, monkish 
 absurdity. 
 
 " In the choice of your rooms, con- 
 trive, if you can procure such an agree- 
 able situation, that they shall look upon 
 the street > thus consulting a most de- 
 lightful plan of instructive relaxation. 
 
 u Order a large soft sofa, because 
 you cannot long remain alone in your
 
 79 
 
 room, on a hot or rainy day, without 
 falling asleep, and this, piece of furni- 
 ture is infinitely more convenient for 
 the purpose than an arm-chair. 
 
 " Purchase a flute, or borrow one r 
 whether you know how to play or not, 
 and let it be always in sight; then who- 
 ever sees it will give you credit for an 
 elegant accomplishment, because, who 
 could suppose you would have a musi- 
 cal instrument merely to look at ? 
 
 " Get the most expensive prints you 
 possibly can : they ornament a sitting- 
 room prodigiously, and* in the end, 
 need not cost you more than sixpence 
 to the porter who carries them back to 
 the print-shop. 
 
 " Upon the same principle, and at 
 as small expense, you may enjoy the 
 luxuries of a handsome carpet; a set 
 E4
 
 80 
 
 of china ware ; chairs, tables, window- 
 curtains, &c. If the tradesmen are silly 
 enough to let you run in their debt^ 
 you will not be silly enough to pay 
 them: their object is to get your 
 money; yours is to keep it from them; 
 and every body should mind his own 
 business. This argument would not, I 
 flatter myself, be easily refuted ; and I 
 wish I could in like manner teach you 
 to avoid every sort of expense; but this 
 is not possible; though I hope to re- 
 duce the articles under that head to a 
 small number. 
 
 " Every man of sound sense desires 
 to be dressed as fashionably as he can, 
 and this harmless gratification may be 
 procured in the same way with others 
 above-mentioned; at least such neces- 
 saries as thirteen or fourteen coats, as
 
 81 
 
 many pairs of breeches, and three or 
 four dozens of waistcoats. 
 
 " In the colours of these, your own 
 fancy will assist you ; the lighter the 
 better, because agreeable to the sta- 
 tutes, and least apt to soil; and be sure 
 to have a scarlet coat, which is always 
 genteel. 
 
 M Keep a horse; it will do you credit, 
 and afford you a good diurnal amuse- 
 ment, in conformity to the rules of the 
 university; as riding every day from, 
 breakfast till dinner-time implies neither 
 idleness nor dissipation. 
 
 " I advise you not to get dead drunk 
 every night ; by no means from an idea 
 of there being any impropriety in that 
 indulgence; but that you might not 
 deprive yourself of many pleasures re- 
 served for a man who can walk about a 
 E<5
 
 82 
 
 thus, instead of going to bed as early 
 as the shopkeepers, you can stay up 
 until three or four in the morning; and 
 make the time pass pleasantly enough 
 by burning the chairs, splitting the 
 doors, fighting, and turning religion 
 into ridicule. In short, a person who is 
 only half-drunk doubles all his enjoy- 
 ments. 
 
 "•With respect to the amusement of 
 ridiculing the established religion, I 
 must observe, that nothing can be more 
 justifiable: Addison and Newton were 
 of a different opinion: but who are A&- 
 dison and Newton ! or, why should you 
 and I be expected to think as they did? 
 Besides, they were no judges of the 
 subject in question ; for, by all ac- 
 counts, they were a couple of flufo 9 
 without any taste for the innocent re-
 
 83 
 
 creations morosely prohibited by Chris- 
 tianity; a system full of inconsistencies, 
 by the bye : amongst the rest, I remem- 
 ber it says something of Omnipotence 
 being both just and merciful, which 
 philosophers know to be an absolute 
 impossibility. This is a fine hint, which 
 you may enlarge upon at your evening 
 meetings, where you should remain to 
 cultivate free inquiry and improve your 
 reason, instead of going to chapel or 
 lecture, where, depend upon it, you. 
 could learn nothing. . 
 
 " Your tutor is probably what has 
 been denominated a quiz. His being a 
 clergyman, is of itself enough to ren- 
 der him ridiculous ; but he is worse; he 
 understands Latin and Greek, goes re- 
 gularly to chapel, reads much, and act*
 
 H 
 
 and dresses in conformity to the statutes ; 
 this is a quiz. 
 
 " Amongst other absurdities, he lays 
 down a course of reading for the in- 
 struction and amusement of his pupils, 
 specifying authors, who afford those that 
 study them neither the one nor the other. 
 
 " For instance, Homer and Virgil ; 
 which I believe to be heaps of lies; at 
 least, I very much doubt whether there 
 ever were any such gods and goddesses 
 as Hercules, Jupiter, Helen, Thersites, 
 &c. Besides, how could Homer or 
 Virgil know, with certainty, what was 
 done before they were born ? 
 
 " Cicero and Demosthenes are two 
 more; but masters in the art of abusing 
 their fellow-creatures, are pretty ex- 
 amples to set before young minds !
 
 85 
 
 "■ And as for English writers, be 
 careful not to follow your tutor's direc- 
 tions with respect to them ; he will 
 probably entice you into the perusal of 
 a work called ( Paradise Lost/ written 
 by a person of the name of Milton, 
 whose head, if I recollect, was cut off in 
 the time of king James the First: I 
 solemnly warn you against his book, 
 which is flimsy stuff, chiefly stolen out 
 of the Bible, and the verses all jumbled 
 together. 
 
 u Your tutor perhaps may recommend 
 ' Thompson's Seasons' for an idle hour 3 
 but it is a poor thing, and perfectly des- 
 titute of novelty, not having even lies to 
 make it palatable ; so exactly has the 
 author copied from nature. 
 
 "Then there is Doctor Johnson's Dic- 
 tionary ; an useless book, because every
 
 85 
 
 Englishman understands his own Ian* 
 guage ; and as for entertainment, I never 
 could extract any from it, for the words 
 have no connexion whatever with each 
 other; and the writer flies from subject 
 to subject, for no other reason except 
 that each begins with a particular letter 
 of the alphabet ! 
 
 "The enumeration of books which 
 you will be desired to look into, would, 
 in short, take up- too much time : I shall 
 therefore advise you not to read at all; 
 or if you will, read precepts which you 
 can reduce to practice; such as the 
 works of lord Bolingbroke, for your re- 
 ligion; lord Chesterfield, for your mo- 
 rals; and Paine, for your politics. 
 
 " Exclusive of your studies, your tu>- 
 tor will think it necessary to interfere in 
 several other matters^ and be apt to ii>
 
 87 
 
 sisit on your going upon Sundays to St. 
 Mary's Church. This is not so absurd 
 ah injunction as at first it may appear; 
 go there by all means, or you will lose a 
 great deal of fun, arising from scraping 
 with your feet, and coughing- to drown 
 the preacher's voice. 
 
 iCi A lively imagination will strike out 
 various resources for its possessor; it is 
 therefore less requisite for me to dwell 
 longer on the subject of petty eontn- 
 vances to pass away time; and I pro- 
 ceed to observe, that nothing can give a 
 higher flavour to the pleasures of an Ox- 
 ford life, than now and' then changing 
 them for others. To do this in the most 
 sensible and salutary manner, you must 
 not run off to Woodstock or Abingddn> 
 but go directly to London. This is the 
 scheme whieh best proves the taste and
 
 8$- 
 
 fire of a young fellow : you must, how- 
 ever, do it with circumspection ; and 
 not only have money for the purpose, 
 but, if possible, your tutor's permission; 
 and the obtaining of these requisites is 
 one of the sublimest efforts of liuman 
 genius. 
 
 " In the first place, you should write, 
 or get a friend to write, a letter to your- 
 self, with a detail of some severe family 
 misfortune; and your tutor, who may 
 have many faults without being either 
 suspicious or hard-hearted, will give you 
 leave to go home, where your friends 
 were in such confusion that they had 
 not time to write to any one but you. 
 
 " So far so good: but the money may 
 be wanting; and here again the pen 
 will assist you : remember then, a week 
 or fortnight before you attack your tu~
 
 b9 
 
 tor, to write to some one at home : if 
 vou are blessed with an old aunt or 
 grandmother, you are secure of a sup- 
 ply; should your father be a veteran 
 soldier or fox-hunter, who has never 
 been at the university, he may be im- 
 posed on ; but if a clergyman, your case 
 is a nice one, and I scarcely know what 
 to advise : try the success of a pathetic 
 comparison between his times and yours; 
 or send him in a list of books which 
 you must have ; and are sure he has 
 not, 
 
 " Having got the money, go next to 
 the Angel> or Alfred's Head, and engage 
 a seat in one of the London coaches : 
 then dress yourself as much like the 
 driver as you can; wrap your head in 
 that genteel covering called a Welsh-zvig % 
 and your person in a bear — i. e. a coat
 
 m 
 
 which weighs about one hundred and - 
 fifty pounds: the inconvenienciesof this, 
 if any, are far exceeded by its advan- 
 tages ; as no one who sees you in it will 
 suspect your being a gentleman. 
 
 <v At going off, sit on the outside ; 
 and besides hearing polite conversation, 
 you may thus ingratiate yourself with 
 the coachman, by paying for his gin 
 and beer ; he, in return, will allow you 
 to take the reins ; and if by overturning 
 the machine a child should happen to 
 be killed, or the leg of an inside passen- 
 ger broken, those are accidents for which 
 you are not accountable. 
 
 " For your amusements in town J 
 shall not give you any directions; and 
 only recommend it to you to live en- 
 tirely at a coffee-house near St. James's* 
 as least expensive.
 
 91 
 
 " This is a plan of true rational plea- 
 sure, and should be repeated frequently : 
 you will always return improved in mo- 
 rals and manners, and with a double re- 
 lish for your studies. Indeed, so great 
 is the benefit derived from such trips, 
 that you are authorised to find moriey 
 for the indulgence in any way you 
 please : when the end proposed is good, 
 no matter for the means. 
 
 " On your return to Oxford, after 
 having sported in the sun-shine of Bond 
 Street, you will find a cap and gown a 
 great bore for some days, and be inclined 
 to wear a hat ; be careful, at the same 
 time, to have a large stick in your hand ; 
 and when you see a proctor approach- 
 ing, begin to limp, as if you had dislo- 
 cated your knee, and unless very know*- 
 i?ig, he will not take to you. But should
 
 this ingenious device fail, you may say 
 you are going to walk in the country, 
 or returning from it; but then he must 
 not meet you again, whereas lameness 
 is a most excellent excuse, because you 
 may be a great while recovering. 
 
 " I hope not to be censured for sup- 
 posing these brief directions of some va- 
 lue : they are all practicable, and have 
 the advantage of being easiest to those 
 whose capacities are most limited."
 
 
 I had now nearly completed my third 
 year at Oxford, and in some respects 
 established a character for diligence and 
 sobriety : yet it is with a considerable 
 sense of shame I am forced to acknow- 
 ledge, that, though both decorous and 
 assiduous, I had but little merit for be- 
 ing so : timidity, rather than virtue,, 
 made me seclude myself; and solitude 
 compelled me to be studious: my re- 
 ward of approbation was, however, the 
 same as if I had resisted temptation and 
 been victorious in the contest ! 
 
 Reflecting on this, and conscious that 
 I had, in fact, made greater advances 
 than many others in the road of literary 
 attainments, encouraged me to hope 
 that I might venture to taste of the cup
 
 94 
 
 -of pleasure, to which by nature I was 
 strongly inclined, and still preserve my 
 fair fame unsullied. Hitherto I had ab- 
 stained totally from excess in wine, and 
 from play; had been an early riser; 
 had never contracted a debt; nor once 
 slept out of college. 
 
 Now I began to revive my intimacy 
 with Markham ; and through him got 
 an introduction to the parties which he 
 frequented. The consequence may be 
 easily conjectured: very speedily my 
 glass of port was magnified into a bot- 
 tle ; from a looker-on at cards, I became 
 a sure hand at guinea whist ; and soon 
 there was scarcely a statute of the uni- 
 versity that I had not violated. 
 
 I cannot exactly say that I was ele- 
 vated in my own esteem; but as my ir- 
 regularities were not detected, I per-
 
 95 
 
 •ceived that I had not lost the regard of 
 my tutor, or of other orderly persons of 
 my acquaintance. This, thought I, is 
 admirable ; my father's maxims, then, 
 are not to be akvays relied on; and to 
 acquire the approbation of mankind, 
 it is not so necessary to avoid doing ill, 
 as it is to escape exposure ! This philo- 
 sophical idea shows that I had studied 
 -ethics, and knew when to apply them,
 
 •96 
 
 CHAP. V. 
 
 Comes in between the fourth chapter and 
 the sixth. 
 
 How long, and with what effects, I 
 should have gone on in the above-men- 
 tioned wav, would be difficult to deter- 
 mine; but the following circumstance 
 obliged me to change the course of my 
 proceedings for another. I received a 
 letter from my father, with which I can- 
 not present my readers; but if a copy 
 of it will answer, they are welcome to it. 
 
 " My dear boy, 
 
 " It is with most heart-felt 
 regret and sorrow I write to inform you
 
 97 
 
 that your uncle is no more ; and with 
 him your hopes and prospects are termi- 
 nated ; for I find that he had for several 
 years been married to a person, who, 
 having been his servant, became his mis- 
 tress, and then his wife. By her he has 
 left a son ; and to them his entire proper- 
 ty belongs, as he died suddenly without 
 making a will. 
 
 " The first thing to be done, is to sub- 
 mit to the calamity with patience; and 
 the next, to withdraw as soon as you can 
 from your present situation, and come 
 home to your poor but affectionate 
 parents." 
 
 Behold me now, for the first, time, the 
 victim of misfortune ; and such it really 
 was; but which my own misconduct 
 
 VOL. I. F
 
 98 
 
 did not give rise to, any more than my 
 merits did to the prosperity that made 
 me feel the reverse so severely : yet I was 
 fool enough to think, that, as I had not 
 deserved it, it ought not to have fallen to 
 my share. And I must also acknow- 
 ledge, that my distress on the occasion 
 was not at all alleviated by observing 
 Markham, just as I had read my letter, 
 enter with a joyous air to inform me, 
 that by the death of a relation he had 
 obtained a substantial addition to his 
 already ample fortune. He had dissi- 
 pated his time; lived free from con- 
 troul; treated all subordination with con- 
 tempt; and, in short, done with impu- 
 nity what would have put some people 
 into a gaol, and promoted others to a 
 gibbet! 
 Pride assisted me to conceal from him
 
 99 
 
 what had happened tome, and saved me 
 the pangs which his pity would have in- 
 flicted ; but it was not in the power of 
 pride and philosophy combined, to 
 rescue me from those which my own 
 thoughts had in store for me. I passed 
 the night in soliloquies, and vain attempts 
 to conjecture what my future destination 
 would prove; and fiext day bidding 
 adieu to Oxford, returned, pennyless and 
 disconsolate, to be once more the tenant 
 of my apartment at Oakley. 
 
 Here, in conversation with my father, 
 was developed the mystery of my uncle's 
 unwillingness to let me visit at his house. 
 He who disclaimed dominion of all kinds., 
 and particularly that of a female, was 
 under the government of one of the 
 lowest and most vulgar class of women ; 
 who having tyrannized over him in 
 F 2
 
 100 
 
 quality of chere ami, did not, by all ac- 
 counts, permit marriage to diminish her 
 authority. 
 
 My father endeavoured to find ex- 
 cuses for my uncle's behaviour towards 
 me ; but my mother would not hear a 
 word in his favour: her schemes, her 
 hopes, her predictions, had failed; and 
 she was outrageous ; but, charitably re- 
 fraining from abuse of his memory, al- 
 ways referred herself and me for satis- 
 faction to the Day of Judgment; "when," 
 said she, " I rather think somebody will 
 come off but second best." 
 
 My sisters were for the present 
 obliged to lay aside their prospects 
 through my means ; as well as poor 
 Dick; who, notwithstanding, went, in 
 the family, by the name of the archdea- 
 con, from the preferment I was to have
 
 101 
 
 procured him; and Howel, his elder 
 brother, not choosing to be indebted to 
 me for his advancement, had gone on 
 board of a king's ship in the capacity of 
 a midshipman. 
 
 For a great length of time I had not 
 written to Gay : but we are very apt to 
 remember our friends when we ourselves 
 are in adversity ; and accordingly I now 
 addressed a letter to him, with a full re- 
 lation of my recent mishap. 
 
 In reply, he recommended to my con- 
 sideration a proposal lately made to 
 himself, but which he had rejected; and 
 this was, to become a member of Dean 
 
 's family, with a tolerable salary, 
 
 and a place at his reverence's table ; up 
 on the conditions of being a sort of half- 
 tutor and half-servant to the great man's 
 only child, a boy often years old. 
 V3
 
 Under any other circumstances than 
 those in which I was placed, I should 
 have disdained such an oiler; but now s 
 with the utmost dislike to the plan, I 
 wrote to thank Gay for his friendly in* 
 timation, and declared my readiness to 
 accept the post he had refused, provided 
 I were considered eligible, In conse- 
 quence, Flaybottom was applied to, and 
 forwarded so strong a recommendation 
 of me to the dean, that every thing was 
 soon adjusted, to the great satisfaction 
 of my father; and I once more left 
 Oakley, to wear the chains of servitude 
 in a rich man's house. 
 
 I went, however, with the strongest 
 reluctance; nay, with such a sense of 
 horror and distress of mind as could not 
 fee exceeded, if equalled, by the stings of 
 remorse j and yet this was as fine an op^
 
 103 
 
 portanity as ever presented itself for the 
 consciousness of Virtue to come into 
 play, because I was now making a pain- 
 ful effort to earn a reputable indepen- 
 dance, and relieve a parent from the 
 burden of supporting me / 
 
 What Virtue was about at the time, 
 I cannot pretend to guess; but I am 
 sure I have not the smallest particle of 
 obligation to her for any assistance on 
 this occasion. 
 
 I perspired at every pore on catch- 
 ing the first glimpse of a large and state- 
 ly mansion, whose long parlour-windows 
 were occupied by several showy figures, 
 male and female : and had the steps I 
 was now to ascend been those of a 
 scaffold prepared for myself, I might 
 have felt less embarrassment on ap~ 
 F4
 
 104 
 
 proaching them, but I doubt if I could 
 have experienced more terror. 
 
 And here methinks the question 
 may be asked by some one, — Wherefore 
 this fear? why these agitations, and 
 qualms, and tremors ? — are you not 
 a man ; and are not they your fellow- 
 creatures whom you are going to face; 
 and is not this morbid anxiety very like 
 the vanity that induces some people to 
 suppose themselves of more importance 
 than they really are ? 
 
 It is excellently well said, my good 
 and philosophic sir : but you are your- 
 self, perhaps, one of the great, and 
 never were one of the little amongst the 
 sons of men; and have therefore no 
 right to put the query. Or perhaps 
 you are of that race of aerial sages,
 
 105 
 
 who know little or nothing of what is 
 going forward in this lower world : it 
 may be you are at this moment seated 
 in all the pomp of metaphysics, old 
 slippers and a thread-bare coat, by the 
 side of a fire-place, in some lonely attic 5 
 where you are as remote from the pos- 
 sibility of becoming a patron, as of find- 
 ing one; and may freely expatiate on 
 the native dignity of man, or any other 
 subject you please : but, beware, should 
 you ever be in the predicament which 
 I have just described as mine, that you 
 do not comport yourself even worse 
 than I did. I am besides, what it is pos- 
 sible my critic may not be, — a diffident 
 person ; and let me say, that, for one 
 of that description, it was doing won- 
 ders ever to get up the steps at all 
 However, J surmounted them at tacit, 
 E-5
 
 106 
 
 knocked at the already open door, sent 
 in my name by a servant, and was de- 
 sired to enter. 
 
 The vulgar are guided by exterior; 
 and mine, . though I then did not think 
 of it, was in my favour, and impressed 
 the fellow with something like respect: I 
 was tall, strong, and well made; and 
 my dress, which I had arranged at a 
 public-house in the vicinity, was such 
 as became a gentleman. 
 
 On entering the drawing-room, I 
 beheld an assemblage of twelve or four- 
 teen persons of both sexes, apparently 
 waiting until summoned to dinner, and 
 was requested to take a chair, in a con- 
 descending voice, by a portly gentle- 
 man, whose habit and look announced 
 him to be the dean himself. 
 
 He was tall-, fat 5 and shapeless ; and
 
 107 
 
 wore his own hair ; or at least as much 
 of it as chose to remain on a head of 
 some sixty years' standing, but it was 
 made the most of by the aid of powder 
 and pomatum. His face was far from 
 being destitute of expression, being in- 
 contestibly the best representation of 
 stupidity that I think I ever saw. His 
 voice was effeminate; and his style of 
 conversation, for he was a great talker, 
 had not a tincture of the scholar or 
 the man of talents, but was evidently 
 the nauseous refuse of the eating-room 
 and the card-table, which every one can 
 utter and every one retain: but, as he 
 was a man of great connexions, and 
 still greater wealth, he was universally 
 asserted to be a pattern of wisdom, wit ? 
 and benevolence : and this must have 
 been true, as the observation was usually
 
 io*r 
 
 made in his presence, when he migh$ 
 have contradicted it, which he was never 
 known to do. 
 
 My future pupil introduced himself 
 to me by pulling my handkerchief from 
 my pocket ; for which act of dexterity 
 and politeness he was applauded by se- 
 veral young and old ladies, and not 
 chidden by his admiring father, who ob- 
 served, that his vivacity was uncommon, 
 " Quite uncommon, Mr. — hem!" — and 
 that we should speedily be very good 
 friends ;. his little white eyes doing all 
 they could to sparkle with satisfaction 
 at the praises of his boy, which were 
 audibly whispered throughout the sur- 
 rounding circle. 
 
 I could not for my soul say a word 
 on the occasion, as I really felt some^ 
 thing of disgust towards the child, who
 
 ♦ 109 
 
 was as different from what a fine boy 
 should be, as it is possible to conceive, 
 He was as impudent and as incapable 
 of blushing as a Bath demi-rep ; his face 
 was long, pale, and pitted with the 
 small-pox; his hair red; his legs thin 
 and feeble; and his words appeared to 
 come through his nose, though his 
 mouth was very wide, and constantly 
 open. Having lost his mother in his 
 infancy, he was, in short, what is com- 
 monly called spoiled, by the ridiculous 
 fondness of a silly father. 
 
 Upon the whole, the circumstances 
 of my reception were rather discourag- 
 ing; and I believe I had already come 
 to a resolution within myself to run 
 away by the earliest opportunity, when 
 dinner was announced. 
 
 As the company was rising, I ven~
 
 110 
 
 tared, for the first time since my en- 
 trance, to look around me; perhaps in 
 search of such a face as poor Gay's ? for 
 whose presence I would then have given 
 a great deal A haughty dowager or 
 two passed me ; next, three or four 
 young, skinny, rouged and feathered 
 fashionables, followed by as many of 
 those short-sighted, yawning, insipid 
 puppies, called very elegant men ; and 
 then the dean desired me to advance^ 
 but I hesitated, on perceiving a young 
 lady near the door, in order to make way 
 for her. " It is only Miss Rivers," said the 
 dean, seeing the cause of my backward- 
 ness : she passed me, and bowed good- 
 naturedly; and shortly after, I found 
 myself seated opposite to her at table. 
 We were prepossessed in favour of 
 each other, without having interchanged
 
 Ill 
 
 a word: I had shown her a mark of re- 
 spect, and she looked graciously at me :• 
 I looked at her; and the more I did 
 so, the more I was astonished at my not 
 having looked at her before, for now it 
 was with difficulty I could persuade 
 myself to look at any body else. 
 
 The best excuse I can make, to the 
 well-bred part of the world, for this be- 
 haviour, is to describe the object that 
 attracted my attention. 
 
 Miss Rivers seemed to be about 
 nineteen years of age : her form was an 
 assemblage of beautiful proportions, and 
 her face so lovely, that it would have 
 
 been admired even if Miss had 
 
 sat by her side. It was a countenance 
 such as the pencil of Angelica loves to 
 draw, and resembled in profile the noble 
 style we sometimes see in ancient gemSi
 
 It had besides in it some traits, which 
 have always passed with me for irre- 
 sistible charms, — it was pensive, and 
 almost pale; — a complexion admirably 
 suited to her black, intelligent eyes. 
 
 I was at a loss to understand why so 
 much loveliness, dignity, and elegance 
 of manners, as Miss Rivers displayed, 
 remained nearly unnoticed by the men 
 of the party, till I discovered that they 
 were merely parasites, and adapted their 
 behaviour to what they supposed their 
 entertainer's inclination ; and his want of 
 affability to the young lady was evident. 
 
 The disdain and coldness of those 
 of her own sex who surrounded her, 
 could be easily accounted for: they 
 none of them addressed her -, and I can 
 scarcely say that I had heard the sound 
 of her voice.
 
 l\3 
 
 In all this there was an appearance 
 of mystery which exerted my curiosity; 
 but fortunately my knowledge of the 
 laws of politeness, though not extensive, 
 was enough, aided by my bashfulness, 
 to prevent my committing my thoughts 
 to speech, and directly asking the lady 
 who she was. I resolved, however, to 
 find this out as soon as possible ; for 
 what I heard during dinner, convinced 
 me that she resided in the house of which 
 I also was become an inhabitant; and 
 with this information for the present I 
 was obliged to content myself. 
 
 The conversation that ensued on the 
 departure of the ladies, though it did 
 not last very long, made some impres- 
 sion on me ; and as I attended to it in 
 laudable silence, I am able to recollect 
 the leading topics.
 
 114 
 
 The recapitulation of these may not 
 he quite devoid of instructional shall 
 therefore set down what was said; and 
 leave my acute and gentle reader to 
 make his or her ©v/n comments, as to 
 him or her shall seem meet. 
 
 Dean. " We'll, drink the King. You 
 take port, Mr. Ardent ? " 
 
 Here a pause of five minutes. 
 
 First Gentleman. "Most uncommon 
 large that turbot: you're fond of tur- 
 bot, major ! " 
 
 Major, " Very." 
 
 Another pause of ten minutes. 
 
 Secorid Gentleman. u Pleasant size 
 this room." 
 
 At which interesting period a servant 
 entered to say tha,t coffee was ready y 
 and we rose and joined the ladies. 
 
 Here I found Miss Rivers presiding
 
 Lid 
 
 a,t the tea-table. In the course of her 
 administration she asked me if I wished 
 for sugar; a simple demand, and not ab- 
 solutely unprecedented, nor very diffi- 
 cult to answer. I could, however, have 
 more easily replied, had I been asked by 
 any one else to explain Philo's method 
 of finding two mean proportionals ! I 
 felt my face grow extremely hot, and 
 said something that was neither yes nor 
 no; in consequence of which I got a 
 lump of sugar in my cup more than I 
 wanted. 
 
 My sudden incapacity to speak in* 
 telligibly may seem marvellous to one 
 who peruses in plain black and white 
 the question put to me; but when such 
 questions are accompanied by a full 
 gaze from the two radiant eyes of an ex-
 
 116 
 
 • 
 
 ceeding fine woman, aided, comforted, 
 and abetted by an intoxicating smile, 
 and the extension of a most lovely hand 
 and arm, the affair takes quite another 
 turn ! 
 
 The ceremony of tea-drinking, &c. 
 being concluded, Miss Rivers retired, 
 accompanied by my young disciple; 
 and shortly after the company withdrew 
 to their respective homes ; leaving me to 
 a very agreeable tete-a-tete with the 
 dean; who having acquainted me with 
 his principles in civil policy and church 
 government, and his taste in reading, in- 
 formed me that he had the greatest pos- 
 sible respect for my father, whom he 
 had known many years ago; and that 
 there was nothing he admired more in 
 his venerable character, than the pa-
 
 117 
 
 tience with which he endured the hard- 
 ships of a small income and an obscure 
 situation. And indeed to this assertion 
 I could not refuse implicit belief; for 
 his admiration was such, that, although 
 he knew my father extremely well, had 
 some obligations to him, and often pro- 
 mised to serve him with his interest in 
 the church, he never did him any ser- 
 vice whatever: not being, I suppose, 
 able to deprive himself of the pleasure 
 he took in seeing with what composure 
 and resignation the parson of Oakley 
 could bear " the pelting of those piti- 
 less storms" which in this transitory 
 state are so often the good man's portion. 
 He insinuated, however, that his respect 
 for my father induced him to take me 
 under his protection, and that he had
 
 118 
 
 *ny advantage very much at heart : he 
 then wished me a good night, and I re- 
 tired to atolerable apartment, and to bed. 
 
 My mind, after I lay down, was so 
 much engaged with reflexions and pro* 
 jects for the future, that instead of be- 
 coming drowsy, I grew still less sleepy > 
 and at the expiration of two hours was 
 broad awake; when I thought I heard 
 something like sobbing in the adjoining 
 room, and fancied it the voice of a female 
 in an agony of grief. At length all again 
 was silent; and in the midst of vain 
 endeavours to account for the noise, I feli 
 asleep. 
 
 When morning came, I rose early, 
 and leh my chamber, not without hopes 
 ©f learning from some servant who the 
 snysterious beauty was> whose bright
 
 119 
 
 eyes had so perplexed me the evening 
 before. 
 
 The mansion was as yet so profound- 
 ly still, that as I descended I despaired 
 of meeting even a housemaid ; and tak- 
 ing it for granted that a dean must have 
 a library, I opened a parlour-door in 
 search of it, and of some book for my 
 amusement 
 
 And here were books in abundance % 
 but I paid little regard to them, and fixed 
 my eyes on a female figure reclined 
 upon a sofa, in a loose morning-dress 5 
 and leaning on her arm, with a handker- 
 chief applied to her face : I thought he* 
 asleep, but on my entrance .she started, 
 and rose ; when I saw that it was Miss 
 Kivers. 
 
 I bowed, and she curtseying grace* 
 fully, and sitting down, assured me, in
 
 120 
 
 answer to my excuses for intruding, that 
 she was glad to be relieved from soli- 
 tude, which, she added, to those who 
 have neither present enjoyment nor hap- 
 piness in prospect, is always a state of 
 pain. My reply was, " I regret exceed- 
 ingly that the remark should be applica- 
 ble to you." Compliments in general 
 are not delivered in such a tone of sin- 
 cerity as this was ; nor are they always 
 received like it ; for Miss Rivers's eyes 
 were instantly filled with tears ; — but she 
 brushed them away, and looking firmly 
 at me said, " Mr. Ardent, I am so un- 
 used to sympathy, that I scarcely un- 
 derstand its language ; but that I believe 
 is not confined to words : the counte- 
 nance may speak as intelligibly as the 
 lips, and I think I comprehend yours. 
 You are, I suspect, very humane, and a *
 
 I<J1 
 
 little curious: the first-mentioned qua- 
 lity I shall put to a trial by attempting 
 to gratify the second: after this warn- 
 ing, shall I proceed ? " 
 
 The offer was not to be withstood 5 
 and the occurrence had an air so ro- 
 mantic, that it looked exactly like one 
 of those plots for an interview which 
 novel-writers keep by them ready for 
 use. I accepted it with eagerness, and 
 many expressions of thanks for her con- 
 descension -, requesting, however, before 
 she began her story, that she would, if 
 possible, let me know whether she had 
 been alarmed by sounds of lamentation, 
 which I had heard in the night ; and ? 
 as I imagined, in the chamber adjoin- 
 ing mi ae. She coloured at my question, 
 and with a heavy sigh said, she was 
 afraid she was herself in faulty but thai 
 
 vol* J. G
 
 128 
 
 not being accustomed to have a neigh- 
 bour, she had heedlessly given vent to 
 the anguish of a tortured bosom : " You 
 shall not, however," she continued, " be 
 50 molested again; yet I am not dis- 
 pleased, I confess, at discovering, that if 
 I have had a witness of my weakness, he 
 is more likely to pity than to deride it." 
 I declared in the most respectful terms 
 ■that she was not mistaken ; and, apolo- 
 gising for the interruption, begged of 
 feer to proceed. 
 
 She smiled compliance; and would, 
 I doubt not, have immediately fulfilled 
 
 her promise, but for the intrusion, at 
 
 ■ 
 that very instant, of my young charge, 
 
 whose face, as he rushed violently into 
 
 the study, looked to me twice as ugly as 
 
 it seemed the day before. 
 
 It is scarcely possible to describe the
 
 123 
 
 vexation this disappointment inflicted 
 on me : instead of listening to the narra- 
 tive of my lovely new acquaintance, who 
 immediately left the room, I was now 
 compelled to enter on my office of go- 
 vernor ; at best one of the most odious 
 ©f occupations; and tome so disgusting, 
 that while I appeared to hearken to 
 Master Gregory spelling his way through 
 the first stanza of Pope's " Universal 
 Prayer," I silently addressed one to 
 Heaven, that I might be gifted with 
 sufficient firmness to throw up a situa- 
 tion so unsuitable to my disposition ; de- 
 termining to incur my father's displea- 
 sure by the step, and encounter the 
 hardships of the world, unprotected and 
 alone, rather than live dependant on the 
 dean, or indeed on any one, 
 
 G8
 
 124 
 
 CHAP. VI. 
 
 Wherein it was thought Jit to insert what 
 has not been left out 
 
 I HAVE said that I already wished to 
 escape; and need hardly add, that I 
 was at no loss for a good excuse to my- 
 self; as I pretended to believe it disho-* 
 nourable in me to remain under the 
 shelter of the dean's roof, without strict- 
 ly fulfilling my part of the compacts 
 and that I felt to be impossible, as no-* 
 tiling could exceed the stupidity of the 
 pupil, except it might be the impatience 
 of his preceptor.
 
 125 
 
 Before, however, I could execute my 
 scheme of decamping, two or three 
 things were absolutely necessary; such 
 as giving some kind of reason for going 
 away ; and fixing on a place to which I 
 should go: above all, I wished pre- 
 viously for information respecting Miss 
 Rivers; in whom I perceived I had 
 taken a violent and unaccountable in- 
 terest, yet by no means sufficiently 
 strong to detain me. 
 
 In this my plan of elopement, and 
 the virtuous reason I had discovered for 
 putting it into effect, may be discerned 
 a degree of inconsistency, not at all pe- 
 culiar to my character, but which I pos- 
 sess only in common with the rest of my 
 fellow-creatures; for while I supposed 
 myself acting in conformity to the vir- 
 tuous precepts inculcated by my father, 
 G 3
 
 126 
 
 I was meditating how to put the laws 
 of reason to defiance ; and sooner thai* 
 contend with the inconveniencies of a 
 state of dependance, was going to plunge 
 into an ocean of difficulties and dan- 
 gers. 
 
 During several days I turned in my 
 mind the design I had formed; and- 
 every morning for three weeks resolved 
 that it would be the last of my stay. 
 The cause of my hesitation lay in Miss. 
 Rivers's attractions: but a moment's 
 serious reflexion on what the conse- 
 quence might be of indulging sentiments 
 of a tender kind, both with regard to» 
 her and to myself, decided me; and I 
 had taken my measures^ when one morn- 
 ing, to my great satisfaction, Master 
 Gregory proposed an airing with his fa- 
 ther in the carriage, in preference to re-^
 
 127 
 
 peating a lesson with me. With plea- 
 sure I saw them drive from the door; 
 and with still more delight found Miss 
 Rivers seated at her working-table in 
 the parlour. 
 
 I addressed her, and said, " You will 
 perhaps, Miss Rivers, think more strange- 
 ly of me even than you do at present, 
 when I tell you, that I do not intend to 
 remain any longer with the dean, or in- 
 deed in this part of the kingdom, as my 
 dislike to my situation is insurmounta- 
 ble.*' -—"However I may regret the cir- 
 cumstance,' ' said she, " I cannot say 
 that I am in the least surprised ; though 
 I should have been, had I perceived that 
 one of your disposition could have be- 
 come reconciled to a condition for which 
 you appear e\evy way unfit : nor I be- 
 lieve will what I have to say contribute 
 G 4
 
 128 
 
 to dimmish your dislike, or change your 
 determination. My story is short ; and 
 as we are not likely to have a better 
 opportunity than this, I will now relate 
 it.— 
 
 " I was born in Cumberland -, to the 
 most retired part of whieh my father, 
 who was a gentleman of small property, 
 withdrew on marrying a very accom- 
 plished woman without the approbation 
 of her family, and in consequence of 
 that step, without fortune. By her he 
 had two children ; myself and my dear 
 and lamented brother, whom I may 
 well regret ; for had he lived I should 
 not now have been without a friend and 
 protector. My father took the utmost 
 pains with poor Robert's education, and 
 he was at thirteen I think as fine a boy 
 as could be seen; but just at that pe-
 
 139 
 
 riod, an offer being made to my father, 
 by a distant relation, to carry the youth 
 out with him on a well-known voyage 
 $f discovery then undertaken; and he 
 having no means of providing for him so 
 eligibly himself, nor any better pros- 
 pect, was prevailed on to comply. In 
 less than two years after the sailing of 
 the expedition, the public papers teem- 
 ed with the dreadful particulars of its 
 failure; and contained a minute ac- 
 count of the loss of the principal vessel^ 
 in which our Robert was, who shared 
 the sad fate of his companions that 
 were buried in the waves. 
 
 " From that time his name was no 
 more mentioned by any of us : but my 
 father and mother survived his loss only 
 a year and a half; he dying three 
 months before my other parent^ and 
 G5
 
 I.30 
 
 Doth were I am convinced, if ever there 
 were such, the victims of sorrow. They 
 had been already depressed by pecunia- 
 ry difficulties ; and this last blow proved, 
 fatal at once to their happiness and, 
 their lives* 
 
 "They were not less fond of me 
 than of my brother; but their anxiety 
 on my account was relieved conside- 
 rably by the solemn assurances of the 
 dean, who is our relation, that I should 
 never be deserted while he lived, nor 
 left without a genteel provision in case 
 of his death. 
 
 "Immediately on my becoming aa 
 orphan, he came for me ; and treated 
 me with as much tenderness as his coldc 
 and selfish nature is capable of feeling, 
 With him I have ever since continued^, 
 but indeed on. a footing more disagree-
 
 131 
 
 able than can be imagined by a stranger 
 to situations such as mine. Would to 
 Heaven I were at liberty to seek for 
 subsistence elsewhere, and by the exer- 
 tion of what little talents I am mistress 
 of! but the opinion of the world forbids 
 my making such an effort, and I must 
 submit ! 
 
 "Tlie necessity is however very cruel 3 
 for though I possess neither genius nor 
 erudition, I am fond of books; and can 
 use my needle with as much dexterity 
 as many who earn their bread by their 
 laboun How much sweeter would that 
 be to me, than what I am now doomed 
 to eat ! I am here absolutely without 
 rank in the creation ; neither enjoy- 
 ing the prerogatives of a gentlewoman^ 
 nor the freedom of a domestic; and am- 
 forced to perform the duties of both £
 
 152 
 
 indeed, to play as many parts as the 
 chief actress of a strolling company. I 
 am housekeeper, seamstress, and some- 
 times cook. When we are without com* 
 pany, I am obliged, as you must have 
 perceived, to read the dean asleep; or 
 what is a great deal harder, to keep 
 myself awake when he is talking: and 
 when we have a party, I am slightly in- 
 troduced as Miss Bell, and generally 
 overlooked, as on the day of your arri- 
 val : besides having my feelings hurt by 
 frequently hearing the dean enlarge on 
 the calamitous state in which he found 
 me, and from which he never scruples- 
 to insinuate that his benevolence has 
 rescued me. 
 
 " This conduct you may suppose to 
 proceed from the meanness of a sordid 
 disposition 5 but> to do him justice, it
 
 133 
 
 does not originate in so base a prin- 
 ciple, and arises merely from his stupi- 
 dity. Folly often bears a complete re- 
 semblance to vice in every point except 
 the motive by which its actions are re- 
 gulated; and if you continue with us, 
 the dean will many a time put you to 
 the blush before strangers, without in- 
 tending to pain or affront you, and pro- 
 bably without perceiving that he has 
 done so ! 
 
 " Irksomeness is not all I have to 
 complain of here : occasionally I have 
 suffered, for two years past, the insults 
 of a coxcomb, whose name you have 
 yourself mentioned more than once, and 
 whose alliance with the dean you are 
 acquainted with. I need not say I mean 
 Mr. Markham j or that, knowing what 
 I know of him, I am sorry to hear you
 
 189 
 
 sail your friend; a lofty title, which' 
 can never properly belong to any butt 
 the good. 
 
 u Fortunately for me, his visits to his 
 guardian have not been very frequent ; 
 but whenever he comes, his conduct 
 towards me is of the strangest and most 
 provoking description : in company he 
 scarcely condescends to appear as if he 
 knew me;, in private, on the contrary, 
 he is so base as to affront me with what 
 the vulgar, call love : and though I have 
 repeatedly summoned all my spirit and" 
 my best elocution to resent his inso- 
 lence, or mortify his vanity* he is nei- 
 ther to be intimidated nor abashed. I 
 delayed for some time complaining to 
 the dean, through an apprehension o£ 
 his resenting Mr. Markham's behaviour 
 in too severe a manner 5 but when con>-
 
 135 
 
 pelled to make it known, I found that 
 ray caution was entirely out of place ; 
 for the dean has as little of delicacy as- 
 he has of genius; and by his interference 
 made things worse. 
 
 "And here my history is at an end ;; 
 nor of it or of me will you probably ever 
 hear any more ; for, if I am not deceived^, 
 your mind is fixed, on a speedy de- 
 parture,'* 
 
 I assured her, with a sigh, that it was 
 most firmly fixed ; and that in going, I 
 had only to regret the loss of her society,, 
 and of the opportunity I might hope to 
 have of proving myself in time not alto- 
 gether unworthy of her friendship ; add- 
 ing several strong expressions- of indig- 
 nation at the conduct of Markham,, 
 whose intimacy I resolved to drop for
 
 136 
 
 the future; and lamenting my ow» ina~ 
 bility to meliorate the hard lot of a lady 
 entitled to one of a very different kind. 
 And this, though an exceedingly false 
 inference,, was far from being an un- 
 merited compliment; as Miss Rivers 
 was really calculated to adorn the 
 highest station. 
 
 Selfishness in the extended sense of 
 the word is the very source of love ; in 
 its more confined meaning it is an 
 enemy to that passion ; and in the pre- 
 sent instance for a short time protected 
 my bosom from its inroads. My thoughts 
 on Miss Rivers's troubles were soon lost 
 in thinking on my own : fate or frenzy 
 hurried me away; I. respectfully took 
 her hand ; and hoping that Fortune 
 would hereafter be kinder to her merits, 
 and thafc I should yet see her in the en-
 
 137 
 
 joj ment of the prosperity she deserved. 
 I left both her and the great house, and 
 retreated to the humble inn at which I - 
 had stopped on my arrival. 
 
 I there inspected the state of my 
 possessions, amounting to fifteen guineas, 
 a small gold watch, and a few changes 
 of linen; and foreseeing that an inter- 
 view with the dean would be some- 
 what embarrassing, sat down and wrote 
 him a letter, to be delivered when I was 
 
 gone. 
 
 Lies are bad things; and I advise 
 every one, young and old, to avoid tell- 
 ing them ; there are, nevertheless, cases 
 in which mankind agree to think lying 
 expedient. My letter, in this instance, 
 was a falsehood from beginning to end. 
 I informed the dean that I was flattered 
 by his kindness; that important business
 
 138 
 
 called me elsewhere : that I left him 
 with much concern, and was his most 
 obedient humble servant. The world 
 ought to be greatly pleased with such a 
 proof of conformity to its laws; for this 
 act was what the world calls an act o£ 
 politeness. 
 
 I then determined to go immediately- 
 to London; and when, there, make the 
 best excuse in my power to my father 
 by writing to him. Before the evening,, 
 an opportunity offered for completing 
 my elopement, by means of a public con- 
 veyance which passed through the place 
 where I was ; and the next day, having 
 exchanged dependance and support for 
 freedom and a Yery fair chance of being 
 starved, I made one of the million in- 
 the capital. 
 
 This was not my first visit; having*
 
 139 
 
 before 1 forsook Oxford, been of a party- 
 to the metropolis. I did not, however* 
 now inhabit, as then, an apartment in a 
 splendid hotel at the west end of the 
 town, but made choice of a very cheap 
 and private lodging, in one of the most 
 obscure courts eastward of Temple Bar ; 
 considering that an expensive style of liv- 
 ing was not quite suitable to the finances 
 of a man who had nearly as many fingers, 
 as he had pounds. 
 
 Such an instance of wisdom, in the 
 conduct of one who had done so foolish* 
 an action as leaving a state of security., 
 and throwing himself into the arms of 
 the wide world, may appear improbable 
 and inconsistent; but it is neither: we 
 see such things every day, as men doing 
 great acts of weakness, while the minutiae 
 of their conduct shall be the quintessence.
 
 140 
 
 of rationality, and evince theutmost de- 
 gree of magnanimous self-denial. 
 
 What else does he, who, shut up in 
 the silence of the cloister for twenty or 
 thirty years, disdaining to mingle with 
 his fellow-mortals, and conversing only 
 with the illustrious dead* exerts the 
 brightest faculties with which heaven 
 has endowed him to explore all the 
 heights and depths of science, and to 
 store his mind with the riches of litera- 
 ture; and, when, he has done all this, 
 dim eyes, gouty legs, and a shaking 
 head, inform him that the season of 
 enjoyment is gone by ; and that he 
 must neither take delight in nor il- 
 luminate this world, but prepare to 
 go immediately into another, where 
 happiness is complete, and knowledge 
 is vain*
 
 141 
 But a still more striking instance of 
 diminutive wisdom and gigantic folly, 
 is displayed in the carriage of what is 
 usually termed a Great Man; who, for 
 the hundreth part of the pains he takes 
 to be miserable, might have secured to 
 himself a very large share of real feli- 
 city, and a tranquil old age. 
 
 Let us suppose him by his efforts to 
 have attained a throne; and then it 
 would be difficult to say, whether his 
 prospect or his retrospect is most hor- 
 rible. He has for years scarcely ate 
 one full meal, had an entire night's rest, 
 or known the calm delight of domestic 
 life: has created foes that he might 
 destroy them, and yet by every fresh 
 triumph added to the numbers of his 
 enemies ; has been tost by the tempest, 
 and bled in the battle: at one time
 
 142 
 
 freezing amidst the snows of the north ; 
 at another, scorched by Indian suns; 
 and has faced and inflicted death in a 
 thousand fearful shapes, and overspread 
 whole regions with desolation and sor- 
 row: and now, though his end be ac- 
 complished, his hour of repose is almost 
 as far off as ever; for now it is that his 
 assiduity must increase, his vigilance 
 be doubled, and his courage be per- 
 petually within call; because he who 
 gains a lofty station must also keep 
 it. But, fortunately for the human race, 
 and for the great man himself, he is not 
 immortal; and at length lies quiet in 
 the grave. 
 
 Immediately on becoming the inha* 
 bitant of my humble abode, I wrote to 
 my father, assigning the best reasons I 
 could devise for my sudden desertion of
 
 143 
 
 the dean, and assuring him, that I had 
 not the smallest doubt of being one day 
 in possession of splendid emoluments 
 from my exertions in a literary capa- 
 city \ and to ensure my success, had 
 come to the emporium of talent, the 
 mighty city, where virtuous industry was 
 certain of its reward, and where true 
 genius never failed of finding friends. 
 
 In answer, the good man expressed 
 himself as somewhat astonished, and not 
 a little disconcerted by my conduct^ 
 declaring at the same time his total ina- 
 bility to assist me, otherwise than with 
 his blessing, and a letter of recom- 
 mendation (which he inclosed) to a 
 fourth cousin of my mother, a printer 
 and publisher dwelling near the Royal 
 Exchange. 
 
 I accordingly presented myself and
 
 144 
 
 my letter to my citizen-relative ; whom 
 I found a smooth, rotund personage, clad 
 in a prodigiously neat suit of broad- 
 cloth; and who, as my habiliments were 
 still in tolerable preservation, and my 
 figure imposing, received me with some 
 civility — that is, he did not send for a 
 constable to take me up on my entrance. 
 Indeed he even politely told me that 
 he was sorry to learn the indifferent 
 state of my circumstances ; sorry to see 
 I had no great eye to the main chance ; 
 and sorry to observe that your deuced 
 clever folks were seldom good for much I 
 4i And as to any matters in my way," 
 said he, " I should be as glad as another 
 to lend you a helping hand -, but business 
 never was so dull as it is now. For 
 my part 1 believe people have left off 
 reading, and I have at this moment
 
 145 
 
 no less than five of my best workmen 
 standing idle. They had each of them 
 contracted with me to bring out a new 
 novel once a quarter; and they are 
 smartish fellows too; but I cannot tell 
 how it is, we have no buyers — no 
 buyers, sir; and my men, I am afraid^ 
 must go back to their old employ- 
 ments." 
 
 I supposed, of course, that these fa- 
 bricators were at least barristers or cler- 
 gymen, whom the love of letters had 
 drawn off from more serious studies % 
 and having hinted as much, I asked Mr, 
 Type to introduce me to the gentle- 
 men; concluding that their conversa- 
 tion would enlighten me, and their 
 knowledge of the town prove essentially 
 useful to a stranger. But Type unde- 
 ceived me directly, by saying, " O my 
 VOL. I. H
 
 146 
 
 dear sir, as to that, not at all, not in the 
 least; quite of a different stamp; they 
 are all in trade/' 
 
 I was rather amazed, and requested 
 to know how it was possible persons of 
 that condition could be authors. Mr. 
 Type, smiling at my ignorance, replied : 
 " Ah hah! I see you are quite fresh: 
 ^vhy now, Mr. Ardent, what an error 
 you seem to lie under! is it from fel- 
 lows of colleges, or from men and wo- 
 men of fashion, you expect just descrip- 
 tions of the manners of high life ! A 
 smart staymaker, a milliner, or an artist 
 in tooth-powder and artificial flowers, 
 will collect more morsels of bon tong in 
 one week — ay* and toss them up in a 
 neater style — than the best lawyer in 
 Westminster Hall, or the brightest scho- 
 lar in the universities, would scrape to-
 
 147 
 
 gether in a twelvemonth : besides, these 
 same well-informed men, whom you 
 appear so mighty fond of, have their 
 scruples about morals and decency ; so 
 that they are really very troublesome 
 gentry to deal with: a novel from one 
 of their decent pens would have but a 
 bad chance of sale amongst the young 
 ladies of Bath and Brighton ! I lost, I 
 remember, a good ^round sum by one of 
 these enlightened gentlemen two years 
 ago; being fool enough to publish at 
 my own risk a work for him, which did 
 not sell at all: and no wonder: half of 
 it indeed was unintelligible, and might 
 have gone down ; but the rest was into- 
 lerable; nothing but sarcasms against 
 intrigue and politeness ; and in several 
 parts of it the fellow had cast reflexions 
 on kings and churchmen, — ?Jever was I 
 H 2
 
 148 
 
 so taken in before ; but I'm resolved the 
 same shan't happen again !" 
 
 I have given the above as a speci- 
 men of Mr. Type's communications 
 during our first interview; we had many 
 more such conferences, and at length 
 came to a mutual understanding. He 
 found that I was at least willing to la- 
 bour \ and I discovered, that, so there 
 were any chance of sale, and none of 
 his being put in the pillory, he w r as as 
 willing to publish whatever was offered 
 him.
 
 149 
 
 chap. vn. 
 
 In which the contents of the other chap- 
 ters are- net repeated. 
 
 Type's manner of proceeding, when a 
 manuscript was presented to him, was 
 curious enough. If it proved to be a 
 novel, stuffed with trite and vapid ob- 
 servations, and in which equal violence 
 was done to decorum and grammar, he 
 seized greedily on it, and soon after 
 issued it from his press in as many vo- 
 lumes as the work could well be stretched 
 to, with the aid of a large letter, a wide 
 margin, and a coarse blue-and-whifce 
 H3
 
 f$0 
 
 paper: then the newspapers teemed 
 with advertisements of the book; praises 
 of Mr. Type's liberality in giving the 
 author so many hundred pounds for the 
 work; and passages selected in order 
 to whet the curiosity — not quite of the 
 public, but of all the boarding-school 
 misses, governesses, dress-makers, and 
 Abigails throughout the British em- 
 pire; whose moral agents, the keepers 
 .•of circulating libraries, immediately or- 
 der each a certain number of copies , 
 -and thus a large impression has been 
 quickly dispersed, and considerable 
 profit produced to Mr. Type and his 
 fraternity. 
 
 But if, instead of a novel, the oifered 
 manuscript should happen to be a series 
 of poetical effusions; such as elegies 
 upon kittens, tomtits, and broken tea^
 
 151 
 
 cups; or a journey from Hyde Park 
 Corner to Uxbridge, with remarks on 
 the natural history, manners, and cus- 
 toms of the people; illustrated by views 
 of the hedges, milestones* and waggon- 
 ruts on the way ; then things must be 
 got up in a different taste ; and Mr. Wire- 
 wove, Mr. Type's friend at the west end 
 of the town* has instant notice; when 
 the parties join to bring forth the vo- 
 lume in the shape of a cream-coloured 
 quarto, with designs by the most emi- 
 nent artists: and this sort of job, if judi- 
 ciously puffed, usually turns out the 
 most lucrative of any. 
 
 To this great man, Mr. Wirewove^ I 
 was presented by Mr. Type; and again, 
 by both, to several of their brethren ; and 
 through their means was very speedily 
 initiated in all the mysteries of author- 
 H4
 
 16k 
 
 ship, and grew into intimacy with vas: 
 numbers of its professors. 
 
 Amongst these I discerned, indeed, 
 that there was a considerable share of 
 talents and knowledge ; but they ap- 
 peared to me to be influenced by a 
 most perverse fatality, and to have their 
 multifarious powers strangely misap- 
 plied, For example, our best pastoral 
 poet confessed to me, that, having lived 
 all his life in London— inter fumwn et 
 opes strepitumque Roma — he had no 
 higher conception of rustic innocence, 
 than what he derived from occasional 
 confabulations with those nymphs, wor- 
 thy of the golden age, who superin- 
 tend the cows in St. James's Park: the 
 squares supplied him with verdure, and 
 Kensington Gardens with romantic 
 scenery y and from Shenstone or Theo^
 
 153 
 
 sritus he disdained to borrow, because 
 they were low : —-judge, kind reader, 
 what must have been the creative vi- 
 gour of his imagination ! 
 
 I have known more than one volume 
 of very entertaining voyages and travels 
 produced by a city curate 3 who w T as 
 afraid to venture on the Thames as far 
 as Battersea; an eloquent eulogium on 
 the personal security and happiness of 
 an English subject, by a gentleman who 
 resided chiefly in the King's Bench pri- 
 son; and Sermons addressed to Youths 
 by one of the most debauched and 
 profligate characters of the whole asso* 
 ciatiom 
 
 With as slight pretensions as any of 
 
 them, I made my debut in a few months 
 
 after my arrival in town, by carrying a 
 
 novel in MS. to my friend Type; for 
 
 Ho
 
 154 
 
 which, owing to the interference of an 
 acquaintance in my favour, he compli- 
 mented me with five pounds; and by the 
 publication, realized at least one hun- 
 dred for himself! 
 
 My gains however, though small, 
 were, I am sorry to say, fully adequate 
 to the merit of my book ; which was in 
 truth a lamentable farrago ; flat, stale, 
 and unprofitable; containing manners 
 which have never had existence, inci- 
 dents which could not possibly occur, 
 and such an exaggeration of all the pas- 
 sions, especially that of love, that the 
 most phlegmatic of my personages was 
 mad enough to deserve the strictest dis- 
 cipline of Bedlam. 
 
 The reviewers spoke of this, my first- 
 born, in very flattering terms; and it 
 was dispersed throughout the realm ; but
 
 155 
 
 as I had the grace to be heartily 
 ashamed of it, I concealed my name ; 
 and must confess, that I could not see a 
 copy in a bookseller's window, or else- 
 where, without feeling the utmost confu- 
 sion. I hope God will extend his for- 
 giveness to me for having written suck 
 a work, but I'm sure I shall never ob- 
 tain my own. 
 
 Whilst engaged in the composition 
 of this brilliant performance, it may be 
 supposed that I found myself obliged to 
 eat and drink; and though nothing can 
 be more easily imagined than such a 
 necessity, the business of providing for 
 these periodical demands of nature is a 
 serious matter, and one wherein fancy is 
 of very little use; ar> 1 I will mamtaia 
 it, in defiance of a weii-known anecdote 
 of the famous Sir Isaac Newton, that it
 
 J 56 
 
 is not in the power of the greatest ab- 
 stracter or the most lively genius that 
 ever existed, to work himself into a be- 
 lief of having had his dinner before he 
 gets it!' 
 
 Both my wardrobe and my purse 
 were rapidly assuming what a certain 
 wit has called a very poetical posture ; 
 I perceived poverty approaching, and 
 with sadness beheld the last of my 
 guineas. 
 
 In this dilemma I determined to take 
 counsel pf some of " our gentlemen/' 
 as Type called them; and accordingly 
 addressed myself to one whose pale 
 face, long fits of silence, and frequent 
 walks in the Park, made me think him 
 an adept; and indeed I was not mis- 
 taken. I, one afternoon sought for this 
 melancholy wight, and, as I expected*
 
 157 
 
 found him about the middle of the Mall; 
 seated on a bench, and with an air of 
 profound thoughtfulness employed in 
 scoring diagrams in the gravel with the 
 end of his stick. 
 
 I sat down beside him; and to avoid 
 committing myself rashly, took a wide 
 range in the commencement, narrowing 
 as I advanced. I began with European 
 politics, and touched on the theatres, the 
 state of literature, the pressure of the 
 times, and the merit of his last publica- 
 tion; till at length I fairly popped the 
 grand question, and asked him how the 
 devil he contrived to live at all! — taking 
 care, however, to qualify the acid in 
 this interrogation, by observing, that fo? 
 :ny part I made it out with the greatest 
 difficulty, He comprehended me with
 
 15H 
 
 admirable quickness ; his hard face dis- 
 playing something as like a smile as it 
 was capable of putting on, and betray- 
 ing the pleasure he felt, in common 
 with the whole human race, at finding 
 another man as calamitously circum- 
 stanced as himself. Such a discovery 
 lightens the burden of misfortune sur- 
 prisingly ; and was evidently acceptable 
 to Tom Dyer ; for so he was called . 
 Nor does the remark at all reflect on his 
 heart, which was in fact a great and 
 good one. But such is the nature of 
 man : the sensation arising on an occa- 
 sion of the kind, is, " }et schoolmen tell 
 us why," delectable; though there is, I 
 admit, one still more so, but which does 
 not fall to every body's lot, and this is., 
 the transport of seeing a fellow-creature
 
 159 
 
 miserable,— * when one has both the in- 
 clination and the power to make him 
 happy. 
 
 Dyer said he perceived, from the 
 question I had asked him, that my af- 
 fairs were not in a very flourishing con- 
 dition ; that they were likely to become 
 still less so ; and that I did not exactly 
 know how to prevent that catastrophe. 
 
 I nodded assent to this curious ar- 
 rangement; and could not help smiling 
 at the droll gravity with which he deli- 
 vered himself. 
 
 u I also perceive," he continued,. 
 " that you appear rather elevated than 
 depressed, as in reality you ought to be, 
 by a circumstance, which does not at- 
 tend every body who has to endure the 
 frowns of the world, and which, instead 
 of alleviating, adds to human sufferings :.
 
 [60 
 
 i mean, your being what is usually- 
 termed a gentleman. Now, as a mem* 
 ber of that order, you have to struggle 
 with a double portion of evils, and are 
 called upon to bear relative ills as well 
 as real ones. You eannot stretch your* 
 self upon a homely bed, or feed on 
 coarse and* scanty fare, without the re- 
 collection of better times and happier 
 fortunes : what to another are trifles, are 
 not so to you ; and you require at least 
 four times as much philosophy to sup^ 
 port you, as would suffice for a poor 
 fellow who never knew better. 
 
 " I doubt not moreover (you will ex- 
 cuse my freedom) that you have che- 
 rished in you? mind several lofty notions 
 respecting your own excellencies, and 
 the injustice of mankind. Alas! you 
 must, I see,, be new-modelled altogether 3
 
 161 
 
 and if you think it not beneath your 
 decaying dignity to receive lessons from 
 such as I am, I could, methinks, be of 
 some use to you.— Pray, may Task if 
 you have dined ?" I acknowledged 
 that I had not; "nor I," said he: " but 
 most probably you have not quite re- 
 linquished the project; and though I 
 had designed- to postpone that ceremony 
 until to-morrow, yet, for the sake of en- 
 joying your good company, and to gain 
 time for discussing at large our original 
 subject, I will strain a point, and attend 
 you ; only you must condescend to do 
 as I do on those occasions, and that per- 
 haps will not suit you as yetj y 
 
 I understood the sarcasm implied by 
 his emphasis, and assured him I em- 
 braced his proposal with eagerness, and 
 had not the slightest objection to begin
 
 m 
 
 the study of cheap eating under his au- 
 spices as soon as he pleased. 
 
 We then rose, and rather ran than 
 walked into town; my conductor exhi- 
 biting a most wonderful degree of ac- 
 tivity, and a thorough acquaintance 
 with what may be termed the science m§ 
 the streets ; suck indeed as none but an 
 expert practitioner could have been mas- 
 ter of. Nothing seemed to obstruct him -, 
 he jostled no one ; never lost a stroke of 
 his foot; knew precisely when to dart 
 across the carts and carriages, and never 
 missed a short cut. And instead of be- 
 ing confused, the keenness of his eye and 
 the alertness of his movements seemed 
 to increase as we proceeded; till at 
 length he announced our arrival at the 
 place where he usually dined. 
 
 We entered by a dark and narrow
 
 passage, into a long eating-room, in 
 which at different tables were seated 
 several men, some waiting for their food, 
 some devouring- it, and others reposing 
 after the fatigue of having done so. 
 
 Dyer whispered me, as we took our 
 posts in a retired corner, that there was 
 perhaps at the moment in that room 
 more genius and less money than any 
 one could guess, who was a stranger to 
 the ways of London. 
 
 Our frugal meal soon made its ap- 
 pearance, and disappeared with even 
 greater celerity: on which I was going 
 to propose another allowance -, but 
 here Dyer showed his skill, by saying 
 that such voracity was not only unphi- 
 losophic but unnecessary: " At first,'* 
 said he, " I myself was guilty of a like 
 error ; but I quickly grew wiser ; for I
 
 164 
 
 found that if, after eating ever so small 
 a quantity — just as much as will take off 
 the edge of appetite — a man stops there, 
 he will in about ten- minutes perceive 
 that his hunger is greatly diminished, 
 if not entirely gone, and that much less 
 is required for human support than is 
 generally believed," 
 
 To prove my sincerity as hw disci- 
 ple, I made a sacrifice to philosophy at 
 the expense of my stomach, and ac- 
 quiesced. But as we designed remain- 
 ing in the house after others had retired, 
 I petitioned strenuously for the honour 
 of treating him with a bowl of punch ; 
 and he gave his consent, though with 
 much seeming reluctance ; which, in 
 justice to him, however, I must say 
 vanished as soon as the exhilarating 
 fumes of the liquor reached his nose;
 
 165 
 
 Nor had we drank above two or three 
 glasses, when my self-denying anchoret 
 was converted into one of the merriest 
 and most entertaining fellows I ever 
 encountered. His eyes flamed with 
 animation, and he amazed me with the 
 variety of his knowledge and the elo- 
 quence of his language: his anecdotes 
 were inexhaustible; and the severity 
 of his general satire as great as the de- 
 licacy with which he applied it was 
 striking. But his heart was not malig- 
 nant ; for he passed gently by the indi- 
 vidual, and showed me that Man, as a 
 class, was the object of his attack. He 
 was, besides, a cheerful satirist ; and 
 told me in confidence it was his real 
 opinion, that almost every thing, good 
 and bad, in the history of human feel- 
 ings, was a subject rather of laughter
 
 166 
 
 than of mourning ; and that the faculty 
 of discerning the ridiculous where it 
 existed, and of fancying it where it did 
 not, was more beneficial to its possessor, 
 than an estate of a thousand pounds a 
 year. " As to yourself, my dear 
 friend," said he, " I advise you to try 
 and smile at what has heretofore made 
 you sigh; and by all I can observe, you 
 will grow into, a very merry personage,, 
 if you follow that precept, and resolve, 
 in short, to laugh perpetually at the 
 world. And you must not only re- 
 duce your wishes to your means, which 
 every booby might do if he pleased 3 
 but you must do it without feeling any 
 pain in the effort, or any consciousness 
 of merit from having made it: and the 
 criterion of your success will be your 
 arriving at a conviction, that what you
 
 167 
 
 now believe to be necessaries are in 
 truth superfluities, and when you are 
 able to enjoy what you row suppose 
 yourself unable to endure, and living 
 wisely, can feel the truth and beauty of 
 Cato's heroic address to his soldiers: 
 ' serpens, sitis, ardor, arenee dulcia vir- 
 tutir 
 
 " You must abandon the doctrine 
 which has taught you to respect the 
 opinion of mankind, as you respect it ; 
 and learn to despise the sentence of that 
 tribunal; remembering, that the con- 
 tempt of society is not always the con- 
 sequence of vice, nor its applause the re- 
 compense of virtue; and most espe- 
 cially, Ardent" — (and here he laughed 
 outright) — ** you must drop that pre- 
 cious system, which seems to have ac- 
 tuated you. as yet' so forcibly, and
 
 m 
 
 whereby you have been led to imagine, 
 that in life, when } r ou act from a mo- 
 tive of virtue you will be successful, 
 and when otherwise that you will fail : 
 I am tempted to assure you, from my 
 own experience, that the opposite result 
 will more probably ensue : but, indeed, 
 success and disappointment in human 
 schemes, are but other names for good 
 and evil fortune, and not the effect of 
 our own foresight or blindness. Believe 
 me, you must pursue what you deem 
 right, and avoid what is rationally 
 counted wrong, from very different 
 principles, and look for your reward, 
 not at the hands of your fellow-crea- 
 tures, but in your own bosom, and in 
 that state of existence which begins 
 when this has ceased." 
 
 I could not but admire his senti-
 
 169 
 
 ments, the justness of his remarks, and 
 the engaging manner in which he ut- 
 tered them ; nor help feeling a mingled 
 sense of pity and indignation at the 
 thought of such a man as Dyer being a 
 prey to misfortune; and that a creature, 
 invested with qualities to delight society, 
 and powers of mind to enlighten a 
 world, should be compelled, by his un- 
 gentle fate, to find his habitation in a 
 sordid hovel, doomed to mean attire and 
 insufficient fare, and exposed to the 
 slights of men, who, in point of intel- 
 lectual worth, were so far his inferiors. 
 And, as I afterwards found, he had also 
 the ordinary claims to that respect 
 which the world pays to genteel descent 
 and a polite education ; but these cir- 
 cumstances he disdained to mention 
 spontaneously: and only, when I asked 
 VOL. I, I
 
 170 
 
 him, replied shortly, that his family was 
 respectable, that he had lost his parents 
 in his youth, and was a graduate in the 
 university of Cambridge: " I am," he 
 added, " poor, but I am free ; if I am 
 not fat, I am healthy ; a thread-bare coat 
 gives me no uneasiness, because, as 
 Swift has said, I am too proud to be 
 vain; if I have not friends, neither 
 have I enemies ; and, as long as health 
 remains, I can, with the aid of a quill 
 and a quire of paper, preserve myself 
 from famine and a prison."
 
 171 
 
 CHAP. VIII. 
 
 Contains what it does not omit. 
 
 I ASKED Dyer why, with such capabili- 
 ties, he had not employed himself in 
 writing some extensive and useful work, 
 which would at once produce him pro- 
 fit and reputation; and reminded him 
 of Dr. Johnson's observation, that now 
 a patron was not a requisite, as for- 
 merly, but that, at present, in every 
 bookseller an author could find a 
 Mecaenas. 
 
 He answered, that I had not consi- 
 dered the question sufficiently : " It is 
 12
 
 172 
 
 true, I grant you, that the publisher is 
 now the patron ; but it is equally cer- 
 tain, that the writer is most wofully in 
 his power : your modern Mecasnas does 
 not know his trade, if he cannot keep 
 the wretch who writes for bread in a 
 constant state of subjection and depen- 
 dance, A little further acquaintance 
 with our profession will show you, that 
 it is not a display of transcendant ta- 
 lents and profound erudition, but some 
 lucky accident only, which will rescue 
 a man from the bondage of authorship, 
 and establish his name. 
 
 <e A labourer in the literary mine 
 lias a thousand difficulties to contend 
 with. Should he sell his copy-right, he 
 gets little or nothing for that which is 
 still to be tried by t* &i 1 al of public 
 opinion ; should he choose to wait for
 
 173 
 his profits till that is passed, a year or 
 more probably must elapse, and the 
 writer, in the interim, must exist as well 
 as he can: let him work by the piece, 
 and toil in the capacity of translator, 
 abridger, or compiler, and he scarcely 
 earns as much as the cripple who 
 sweeps the crossings; nor can he hope 
 for more than to lie down at night as 
 poor as he rose in the morning: and as 
 for the stage, one of the roads of litera- 
 ture, which a person might be tempted 
 to prefer, because there the bookseller 
 has no concern, it presents the adven- 
 turer with more obstacles than one man 
 in a myriad can surmount ; for I need 
 scarcely tell you, that this is no longer 
 to be ranked amongst the commons of 
 Parnassus \ and- hedges, ditches, grass 
 
 I 3
 
 174 
 
 snakes, and spring-guns, await him, 
 should he encroach upon the territory." 
 Speaking presently of literature in 
 general, I said that his estimate of the 
 successes and failures of its votaries did 
 not appear to be altogether a fair one; 
 and, that I might learn the opinion of 
 one who was so good a judge as Dyer, 
 I mentioned the names of several writers 
 of the day, who had acquired both 
 praise and profit by" their pens; and, 
 amongst these, cited the accomplished 
 translator of Anacreon: ■" Why, yes," 
 replied Dyer, " but you must not rank 
 such a man as that with the ordinary 
 herd. It falls to the lot of very very 
 few indeed, to have such pretensions as 
 he has to the admiration of mankind. 
 Uniting in himself so many rare excel-
 
 V/5 
 
 iencies of mind, he stepped forth with 
 irresistible claims. I know him, and 
 whenever he is named, though anxious 
 to do him justice, am at a loss for 
 expressions suitable to my high con- 
 ception of his qualities: his wit and his 
 learning are almost unequalled, and the 
 Graces wait on every page of his works. 
 Look at his poetry, and you are asto- 
 nished at the inexhaustible riches and 
 splendor of his imagination ; examine 
 his notes, and they abound in proofs of 
 solid understanding, penetration, and in- 
 defatigable research ; for, wonderful as 
 are his talents, they are not greater than 
 his assiduity. That he has faults, as a 
 writer and a moralist, I shall not deny; 
 but, might I venture to anticipate the sen- 
 tence of after-times (and of immortality 
 fee is certain), I should say, that posterity 
 14
 
 176 
 
 will wish some of his lines had been i 
 and sigh to think that he did not be- 
 queath them a thousand for every pure 
 and beautiful one that remains. 
 
 (C Of the rest whom you have spe- 
 cified, and placed on the lists of ce- 
 lebrity, I can count but two or three 
 who are likely to maintain their stations 
 for any considerable period, and must 
 say, that I think their good fortune is 
 at least equal to their merits. The 
 success of one of them particularly asto- 
 nishes me whenever I reflect on it ; for 
 I cannot conceive how his enormous 
 tomes, of what he chooses to call blank- 
 verse, can possibly give pleasure to the 
 reader of genuine taste. Epic poems 
 they may be, and fine ones, if you will - y 
 but, for my part, I protest, that were 
 I condemned to purchase them,— peruse
 
 177 
 
 them again, or — carry them on my back 3 
 I know not which act would be to me 
 most difficult. " 
 
 After a pause of some minutes, he 
 continued : " With regard to yourself, 
 it is hard to say what you ought to do $ 
 but I think I can promise to procure 
 you a few pounds for any thing you 
 write in the form of a novel; provided 
 you permit me to take the liberty of 
 correcting it before it goes to press ?" 
 I thanked him with sincerity, and said 
 I should esteem his doing so as the 
 greatest favour ; but he interrupted me : 
 "You mistake my meaning, good sir | 
 my intention is only to suggest such al- 
 terations in your composition as will 
 render it palatable, and prevent you 
 exposing yourself by introducing any 
 thing like nature "or common-sense y 
 IS
 
 178 
 
 both of which, you ought to be aware, 
 are not barely thrown away on ladies' 
 gentlewomen, ensigns, and the literates of 
 female boarding-schools, but would ac- 
 tually disgust them : we are apt, you 
 know, to reject with contempt what we 
 cannot comprehend." 
 
 I then told him of the work already 
 alluded to, and requested his assistance 
 in revising the manuscript; but am 
 sorry to observe, that upon his looking 
 over it a few days after, he found very 
 little to amend, and drily assured me, 
 ' c it was as near the thing as possible !" 
 
 We had now passed several hours 
 together, and it was necessary to sepa- 
 rate; previous to which, however, we 
 agreed to meet in the same place, and 
 elsewhere, as often as we could ; and this 
 we accordingly did, very much to my
 
 179 
 
 advantage both in point of entertain- 
 ment and instruction. So much so in- 
 deed; as to recompense me many a time 
 for what I endured when alone; for 
 then, exclusive of the drudgery of writ- 
 ing for a maintenance, my own thoughts 
 preyed upon me. In spite of Dyer's ex- 
 hortations, and all my efforts to arrive at 
 a state of Stoical tranquillity, my mind 
 suffered innumerable pains : the affecta- 
 tion of philosophical indifference and 
 unshaken fortitude, answers extremely 
 well, when a man has spectators of his 
 magnanimity; but a hero, poor, friend- 
 less, and alone, cuts rather a sorry figure 
 in his own eyes :. and I am inclined to 
 be of the opinion of a writer, who says 3 
 that " it is great folly to. affect to be xviss 
 by one's-self." 
 
 In my various lonely reveries them
 
 180 
 
 was one thing which still appeared to 
 me more grievous than the ordinary mi- 
 series of indigence, or the pangs of dis- 
 appointed ambition 5 and often have I 
 moaned, in the anguish of my spirit, to 
 think that the want — not of wealth, but 
 of what to a moderate temper would 
 have been competence, should have pre- 
 vented my converting the admiration 
 and respect I had for Miss Rivers into 
 sentiments of a warmer and more ex- 
 alted nature 3 and deprived me of that 3 
 without which existence is to man ra- 
 ther a burden than a blessing, — the 
 transporting pleasure of loving and be- 
 ing beloved for life— by an amiable wo- 
 man. 
 
 Sometimes I deemed myself fortu- 
 nate in not having remained in a situa- 
 tion where these wishes must have g&-
 
 Wi- 
 thered strength ; and sometimes cursed 
 my impetuosity, which had hurried me 
 from her. 
 
 It may, to some, seem incredible, 
 that so short an acquaintance could have 
 given birth to such a partiality for Miss 
 Rivers; it is, notwithstanding, perfectly 
 certain that it did ; and I can safely de- 
 clare, that from the first moment I saw 
 her I was affected with violent emotions 
 of what is usually called love; that 
 night and day her image haunted my 
 fancy; whether depressed by adversity 
 or elevated by the hope of better times, 
 cheerful or melancholy, in society or 
 alone, under every change of scene and 
 circumstance, still was Arabella. Rivers 
 present to my mind's eye, and the re- 
 collection of her allurements deeply 
 seated in my* heart, When all chance
 
 182 
 
 of ever beholding her again was at art 
 end, still the beautiful phantom pursued 
 me, and became so familiar to me, that 
 I was frequently in the habit of expa- 
 tiating aloud on her perfections : and 
 though none of these, as far as related 
 to her person, were imaginary, many of 
 her mental excellencies, and those graces 
 of the soul with which my glowing fan- 
 cy had endowed her, were, strictly speak- 
 ing, ideal : that she actually possessed 
 all those advantages, although I believed, 
 yet I did not know; but I should have 
 esteemed it an insult to have entertained 
 a doubt of their existence during these 
 my visionary moods. 
 
 As these pages profess to contain 
 the real, unembellished, and candid me- 
 moirs of an individual, not the fictitious 
 incidents of a romance, I shall not at-
 
 1S3 
 
 tempt to apologise or account for the 
 singularity of what I have just related, 
 nor indeed for any part of my narrative; 
 but humbly beseech my readers not to 
 condemn the particulars recorded as im- 
 probable or false, only because they 
 have never experienced the like them- 
 selves. Such an argument would be 
 most unfair and illiberal, and lead them 
 to throw aside, weary and disdainful, 
 many a rational and amusing volume, 
 Upon this principle, the ingenious, mi- 
 nute, and faithful Mr. Lemuel Gulliver, 
 would have lain neglected on the shelves 
 of the bookseller, or been dispatched ia 
 reams to the pastry-cook's and the 
 trunk-maker's, instead of being, as he is, 
 proverbial for veracity, and the model of 
 several travellers who came after him*
 
 184 
 
 and have enriched these kingdoms with 
 their stories : luckily for their reputa- 
 tion, as well as that of Captain Gulliver, 
 all the world are not like that incredu- 
 lous though acute prelate of our holy 
 church, who averred, that for his part 
 he rather disbelieved the accounts of the 
 Lilliputians, giants, and so forth. 
 
 Besides, the doctrine which teaches 
 the possibility of love at first sight, and 
 that too on the part both of the lady 
 and gentleman, is not so much at va- 
 riance with fact as some rash persons 
 have supposed; and I am convinced 
 that I myself could particularise several 
 instances wherein that passion, in its 
 wildest degree, has been the conse- 
 quence of a momentary interview be- 
 tween the devoted parties ; the proof of
 
 185 
 
 which is, that liad they known one an- 
 other, reciprocal hatred, instead of love, 
 would infallibly have been the result. 
 
 But to return to my history. One 
 evening it happened that I had dined at 
 the usual place of rendezvous unaccom- 
 panied by Dyer; and was seated, with 
 contracted brows, now musing on my 
 darling theme, and again repining at 
 my condition, when I observed a person 
 approach the table at which I had 
 dined, and seat himself opposite to me. 
 On examining his countenance, I re- 
 collected having frequently seen him 
 before, and remarked that he was often 
 as richly dressed as the prevailing fa- 
 shions will permit; occasionally sloven- 
 ly, and almost ragged; always in an ap- 
 parent hurry, and generally alone. I 
 had also met him more than once at
 
 136 
 
 Type's house; and on that account 
 thought myself authorised to address 
 him, and ask when he had seen the ci- 
 tizen : he answered me courteously, and 
 we gradually got into conversation; in 
 the course of which I discovered this to 
 be a philosopher of a different descrip- 
 tion from Dyer. 
 
 He maintained it as his opinion, that 
 the. appetites of men were given them 
 for the purpose of being gratified, not 
 restrained ; and that he who passed his 
 twenty-four hours in breathing the air, 
 thinking, feeding, and sleeping, could 
 not with more propriety be said to en- 
 joy existence, than a miser's strong-box 
 the gold which it enclosed: " I admit," 
 said he, " that indulgence is expensive $ 
 but I also contend for it, that a much 
 less effort of the mind is required to. pro-
 
 187 
 
 cure the means of gratification, than to 
 conquer the desire of enjoyment; and 
 can see no moral necessity that binds a 
 man to prefer the most troublesome 
 method of attaining his object. Apro- 
 pos 3 where do you usually loiter away 
 your evenings ?" 
 
 This appendix to the preceding re- 
 marks, though very abrupt, was very in- 
 telligible ; but when he began to speak, 
 I conceived that my new comrade was 
 either an alcfyymist about to communi- 
 cate the grand secret; or a highway- 
 man: by the concluding interrogation I 
 found he was only a gamester; and in 
 my reply told him, that the evening 
 was the time I devoted to business. 
 Every man may be said to think profes- 
 sionally; and this was the case w T ith Mr. 
 Fullam ; who supposing that he under
 
 188 
 
 stood me, observed, that it was just so 
 with himself; and then, evinsr me stea- 
 dily, and with one of his eyelids more 
 closed than the other, said, " if you 
 have no objection, and will walk my 
 way to-night, I believe I can introduce 
 you where something live]3 r 1S g°' n o 
 forward : strangers are not asked to 
 touch card or die, unless they choose : 
 only one is expected not to blab ; — you 
 understand.' ' I did understand my gen- 
 tleman most full}*; and wi$h a little he- 
 sitation agreed to go along with him; 
 though not with any view similar to his, 
 but in order to escape from myself. 
 
 i accordingly attended him to a 
 place which, on entering, I conceived to 
 be a tavern or coffeehouse of the infe- 
 rior sort: the floor was coarsely sanded ; 
 a varnished clock ticked in one corner v.
 
 139 
 
 and a man, who seemed to be a tired 
 traveller, snored in another : on a table 
 before him stood a glass of brandy-and- 
 water, and near this lay a pair of long- 
 necked spurs, extremely bloody ; the 
 stranger's boots were covered with clay ; 
 and from his attitude his face was con- 
 cealed. 
 
 At the farther end of the room ap- 
 peared the bar, dimly lighted : and 
 there in an arm-chair sat, or rather lay, 
 the landlady, as I supposed her. This 
 being Sunday, she was clad in a profu- 
 sion of tawdry finery, and, like her soli- 
 tary guest, was asleep. 
 
 My conductor requesting me to wait 
 a minute for him, left the room, and 
 gave me an opportunity of contemplat- 
 ing the figure of our hostess. She was 
 a tall, masculine woman, in the decline
 
 190 
 
 of life, and enormously corpulent - 3 her 
 face was dotted with carbuncles ; the 
 snows of time had fallen thick upon her 
 head and bushy brows ; and the traces 
 of stormy passions, legible on every 
 feature of her visage, were but little, if 
 at all, softened by the tranquillity of 
 slumber; "so looks the strond where- 
 on the imperious flood hath left a wit- 
 nessed usurpation." 
 
 I had scarcely finished my view of 
 this divinity, when Mr. Fullam return- 
 ed ; and desiring me to follow, opened a 
 small door in the wainscot of the room, 
 and darted up a narrow winding stair- 
 case perfectly dark; but my guide was 
 well acquainted with its intricacies, and 
 on reaching the top opened another 
 door, leading by two or three steps, 
 which we descended, intp a long apart-
 
 191 
 
 merit, strongly lighted in the manner 
 used for billiard rooms, and containing 
 more than a score persons; some of 
 whom were employed in throwing dice 
 at a table, and the rest looking on, 
 Amongst these spectators I took my 
 place; none of them noticing me or 
 Fullam, — nor, as far as I could per- 
 ceive, even turning round at our en- 
 trance. 
 
 Though I had gone thus far, I in- 
 tended nothing more; and being at li- 
 berty to make my observations on what 
 passed, promised myself some amuse- 
 ment from an exhibition, the like of 
 which J had never before been witness 
 to. 
 
 Fullam, who soon evinced himself a 
 practised person, previous to sitting 
 down performed several preliminary ce-
 
 192 
 
 remonies that attracted my attention ; 
 he first swallowed the contents of a tum- 
 bler of lemonade ; next, turning up the 
 sleeves of his coat, he placed his hands 
 up to the wrists in a basin of cold water, 
 and held them there for a minute or 
 wo ; after which he produced from his 
 side pocket a canvas bag apparently 
 filled with guineas, and putting it into 
 one within the bosom of his waistcoat, 
 sat down. 
 
 Few of the men about him were 
 even decently dressed; yet I thought 
 some of them seemed men of talents 
 and good-breeding; whilst the aspects 
 of others amongst them, though still 
 composed, inspired me with a kind of 
 horror winch I cannot describe. 
 
 As ) and serious thoughtful- 
 
 ness was the general character of the
 
 193 
 
 surrounding countenances: no voice 
 rose much higher than a whisper ; and 
 coolness and caution seemed to influ- 
 ence them all. By and by, as the pas- 
 sions were roused, curses not loud but 
 deep were murmured here and there; 
 and very speedily the visages of each 
 were so altered, the scene was so chang- 
 ed, that I began to doubt where I was, 
 and almost to fancy myself in an assem- 
 blage of demons instead of men '! 
 
 Anger inflamed the face of one* 
 while that of another was overcast with 
 the pale hue of despondency; their eyes 
 flashed, their hands trembled, and they 
 might be said rather to growl than to 
 speak! 
 
 My feelings on seeing all this were 
 not only more acutely affected than 
 
 VOL. I. K
 
 194 
 
 they had ever been on any occasion, but 
 the pain I suffered was of a nature alto- 
 gether new and alarming : my mind 
 was tempest-tost; and, rapid and active 
 as thought ever is, mine appeared then 
 to have acquired additional vigour : I 
 condemned myself for being present at 
 such hideous orgies: I imagined that 
 the gentle, the dignified, the lovely Ara- 
 bella, looked reproaches at me ; and 
 that my father, with his hoary hair and 
 saintly mien, stood before me, and up- 
 braided my degeneracy. " Not thus," 
 I said to myself; " not in this way, mis- 
 creant, wert thou used to pass thy Sab- 
 bath ! " The remedy was however still 
 in some degree in my power ; I had ex- 
 posed myself to the effects of tempta- 
 tion, had sunk in my own esteem, for-
 
 !95 
 
 saken the paths, of pleasantness, and con* 
 sorted with devils; but I might yet re- 
 treat: and Reason said, withdraw; hasten, 
 and find the air of the damp court where 
 your dwelling is, the air of Paradise; 
 and your ill-accommodated chamber, a 
 sumptuous palace; compared with the 
 atmosphere of pollutionyou now breathe, 
 and the temple of vice in which you now 
 stand ! — and I was about to rush to the 
 door; but thought was too alert, and 
 arrested my steps. It struck me, that if 
 Fortune were but to prove my friend, I 
 might in the space of ten minutes gain 
 what would to me be affluence for as 
 many months. 
 
 The suggestion was more that of 
 insanity than avarice : I had in my 
 pocket but a crown ; to lose it, was to 
 K 2
 
 be impoverished ; — to win but a far* 
 thing beyond that sum, was to be a vil- 
 lain] Respect for the moral principle 
 is incompatible with madness, and mad 
 I was: I turned back; staked my mo* 
 ney ; threw the dice; won, and doubled 
 my possessions: this success increased 
 my disorder ; my pulsation was violent- 
 ly accelerated ; my ears burned ; my 
 forehead throbbed with eagerness; I 
 continued to play, and to accumulate: 
 my avarice swelled into rapacity ; my 
 coldness into heedless temerity; and 
 at last, as may not be conjectured, I 
 saw myself master of above one hun- 
 dred pieces of gold ! 
 
 This change of circumstances was 
 not more wonderful than what at this 
 stage of my career took place in my
 
 197 
 
 temper: I secured my gains; gave a 
 guinea to the attendant, as the winners 
 were expected to dov and slightly bow- 
 ing to Fullam„ whom I left still engaged, 
 resolutely walked down stairs and quit- 
 ted the house. 
 
 K3-
 
 19* 
 
 CHAP. IX, 
 
 Omits what it does net contain 
 
 WiiEli J mvM from this cavern of ini- 
 quity, St. Paul's clock was striking twelve, 
 the night was extremely dark, and the 
 streets deserted; and I ought to have 
 hastened homewards; but my frenzy 
 was exasperated, not allayed, by all 
 that had occurred 5 and instead of hur- 
 rying on, I chose to stop and medi- 
 tate. 
 
 Although the base and despicable 
 process by which I had transferred the
 
 199 
 property of others to myself, stung me 
 sorely, yet when I grasped my treasure, 
 my heart bounded with exultation, and 
 I triumphed with unholy joy in this 
 complete and decisive refutation of my 
 father's often-repeated prescription, to 
 follow virtue regardless of all impedi- 
 ments ; and in defiance of temptation to 
 resist the allurements of evil, because 
 the one would lead to temporal happi- 
 ness, and the other to ruin. Long ago 
 1 had called in question the soundness of 
 the doctrine; I now discarded it with 
 contempt, and perceived, that, though 
 a man would do well to love Virtue for 
 Virtue's sake, and to adhere to her dic- 
 tates with reference to a higher and 
 purer state of being, he would act wise* 
 }y to. surrender all hopes of her affording 
 K 4
 
 200 
 
 him any worldly recompense. And 
 could my memoirs be supposed to have 
 any precise object, to combat and over- 
 throw this ridiculous, yet prevalent prin- 
 ciple, is I own what I should chiefly 
 aim at. It is, in truth, more than ridi- 
 culous ; it is most extensively perni- 
 cious, and the parent of innumerable 
 ills: it has seduced thousands of the 
 weak and unthinking from that fealty 
 which man owes to rectitude, and brought 
 virtue into disgrace. Were the mass of 
 mankind capable of reflexion, this could 
 not happen: but ninety-nine out of a 
 hundred are unequal to the task : they 
 receive what is taught them in a literal 
 senses it passes unexamined; the well- 
 meaning and youthful pupil proceeds 
 upon it as on sure ground -, his heart
 
 201 
 
 overflows with benignity; and he goes 
 about doing good. His first act of ge- 
 nerosity is repaid by ingratitude: his 
 sensibility takes the alarm ; he turns 
 him about, fastens his purse-strings, and 
 shuts up his heart; and he who might 
 have been a Howard, is changed into sl 
 misanthrope. 
 
 I have already mentioned the deep 
 impression these precepts had made oil 
 me: I was yet young; a child in re- 
 spect to my knowledge of the world, 
 and possessed by almost ungovernable 
 passions; it was therefore natural that I 
 should act and: reason as 1 did, not alone 
 in this instance, but in many others of. 
 my variegated life; in the course of which 
 I have, T allow, done much for which I 
 ought to be sorry, and little to make ma 
 K.5
 
 202 
 
 vain. But I have undertaken to be my 
 own biographer, and as such it is my 
 duty not to palliate or conceal, but to 
 relate the truth. 
 
 My late exploit most justly entitled 
 me to punishment ; it had an opposite 
 consequence ; and without entering into 
 any express stipulation with myself on 
 the subject, I can pretty safely affirm 
 that I was secretly determined at no 
 very distant time to make a second ex- 
 periment. Nor was this laudable reso- 
 lution laid aside by the intervention of 
 any qualms of virtue or integrity on 
 my part; but owing to the following 
 accident. 
 
 As I drew near my lodging, I heard 
 a confused noise in a neighbouring^ 
 court, and listening attentively, distin-
 
 203 
 
 guished the voice of supplication for 
 mercy and forbearance. Several heavy 
 blows and groans ensued : I deliberated 
 no longer, but advanced to the assis- 
 tance of the sufferer: by the light of a 
 lamp, I observed two men leaning over 
 a third who lay stretched upon the 
 ground, and whose pookets they were 
 rifling. With a strong cane which I 
 had in my hand I struck one of the 
 ruffians on the head, and saw him fall, 
 his companion in return assaulted me, 
 and laid me senseless upon the pave- 
 ment. 
 
 When I recovered the use of my 
 reason, or at least of as much of that 
 faculty as I could be supposed to pos- 
 sess previous to this affair, I perceived 
 that I was in the custody of about a
 
 204 
 
 dozen watchmen, and that I had lost 
 some ounces of blood, and one hundred 
 and four guineas. To make me some 
 amends for this petty embarrassment, 
 my guards saved me the trouble of 
 walking to the watchhouse, and dragged 
 me there. 
 
 Here was an occurrence perfectly 
 in course: and I was now in a very 
 fair way of being sent to Newgate, and 
 hanged, as a footpad and a murderer, 
 for performing the highest duty of a 
 brave man and a good citizen. 
 
 I was moreover bound with ropes, 
 and flung into a corner; but my tongue 
 was at liberty, and I employed it to ii> 
 form my conquerors that it would be 
 agreeable to me to be unbound and sent 
 to my lodging: whereupon they all
 
 205 
 
 laughed very heartily. I said I" was a 
 gentleman, and had not murdered any 
 body; and at this they laughed again; 
 but when I petitioned them to stop the 
 blood which flowed profusely from a 
 wound in my head, the idea was so 
 comical that their mirth became immo- 
 derate. 
 
 Their pleasantry was now interrupt- 
 ed by a tumult from without; and after 
 great vociferation and loud swearing* 
 the trampling of feet and creaking of 
 rattles, admittance was demanded, the 
 door was thrown open, and two men 
 were committed as prisoners, who had 
 been taken shortly after I was secured^ 
 and when searched^ were found to have 
 a better claim to the honour of being 
 hanged than I had, One of them had
 
 £06 
 
 about him a vast store of money ; and 
 his partner was possessed of a rich 
 pocket-book and a gold watch: and 
 though the law says nothing against the 
 criminality of such facts, it leans rather 
 hard upon persons who entertain them- 
 selves by walking about after midnight, 
 with ragged clothes and bloody faces: 
 they were therefore seized ; and were 
 followed to the watchhouse by several 
 neighbours who were disturbed by the 
 uproar. Amongst these came my land- 
 lady; an honest woman, professing the 
 craft of a laundress ;. and who being en- 
 dued with an equal portion of strength 
 and curiosity, forced her way into the 
 place where I was> and recognising her. 
 tenant, with many exclamations o£ 
 f Lord look upon me I " and, " Here's
 
 207 
 
 to do!" proclaimed her knowledge of 
 my person and her conviction of my in- 
 nocence. This might not have proved 
 quite sufficient evidence before the court 
 of King's Bench, where suspicion pre- 
 vails most abominably -, but the gentle- 
 man who was stunned and pillaged by 
 the marauders now made his appear- 
 ance, and deposed that the two last were 
 they who had assailed him - 3 and that 
 he believed me to be the person who 
 came to his assistance. In conformity 
 to justice I was therefore immediately 
 liberated, and desired to go home : in 
 conformity to some other principle, my 
 guineas were thought proper objects of 
 detention by the constable who pre- 
 sided : so, thanking my good-natured 
 hostess for her timely interposition, 3
 
 208 
 
 accompanied her back to her house, 
 where she assisted me in dressing the 
 hurt I had received; and at last, I got 
 into my bed, with a slight head-ach, at- 
 tended by a small sense of chagrin, and 
 some little doubts as to the meaning of 
 the words good and evil. 
 
 The next morning I had a visit from 
 my philosophic friend Dyer, to whom I 
 recounted my adventures. He express- 
 ed no emotion whatsoever, either of pity 
 or surprise; said that all I had suffered 
 might be unpleasant, but was certainly 
 natural ; criticised a new work just pub- 
 lished and much talked of; sponta- 
 neously lent me seven shillings, and went 
 away. 
 
 In- the evening I walked out, anch 
 bent my steps towards that asylum of
 
 209 
 
 the friendless and unfortunate, St* 
 James's Park, which I entered by what 
 is called Spring-garden gate. 
 
 I had not gone far when I perceived 
 three young men approaching arm in 
 arm; and noticed that he who was in 
 the middle was my old acquaintance 
 Mr. Markham, and that his companions 
 were to all appearance men at least of 
 equal rank with himself: the three were 
 fashionably dressed ; and one of them* 
 whose face was much sun-burnt, wanted 
 a hand. My attire was completely ple- 
 beian, indicating that although the 
 wearer might have seen better days, his 
 situation was changed confoundedly for 
 the worse. On. this I reflected; and 
 Pride, which usually speaks a sort of 
 double language to its victim, urged me,.
 
 210 
 
 at one and the same time, not to accost 
 my former friend, and not to avoid him., 
 I therefore paused, stood firm, and look- 
 ed him full in the face. His confusion 
 confirmed me in the belief that he recol- 
 lected and was unwilling to acknow- 
 ledge me. 
 
 A man of a truly great soul wo aid 
 have considered such an instance of 
 baseness with contempt 3 but I was not a 
 man of a great soul • besides, my temper 
 was hot : the wrongs of Miss Rivers rose 
 to my view, and I was just as arrogant 
 as I was poor: I therefore resolved to 
 affront this false Damon, and accord- 
 ingly addressed him saucily, " So^. 
 Mr. Markham." His comrades smiled, 
 and he colouring with indignation re- 
 plied, " You're very free, sir,"—" I am v
 
 311 " 
 
 sir." — " You're troublesome." — U I in- 
 tend to be so." His assoeiates parted 
 from him ; and the one-handed gentle- 
 man said to me (as if he saw through the 
 affair), " Perhaps you have business with 
 this gentleman?" I turned to him, 
 bowed gently, and said; "Not at all; 
 I do not even desire any further com- 
 munication with one who is as silly as 
 he is ungrateful, unless, and I frowned 
 significantly at Markham, he should in- 
 sist upon it." He was now what I wisely 
 wished him to be, exceedingly angry ; 
 and stepping up to me fiercely, said 
 somewhat indistinctly, stamped with his 
 foot, and lifted his hand; upon which 
 with my cane I contemptuously knocked 
 off his hat. 
 
 Before he could retort, both of tha
 
 2m 
 
 others interposed; and he who had 
 spoken to me already, observed that 
 there was something very extraordinary 
 indeed in the transaction, and such as 
 required explanation. I said 1 was 
 very ready to explain myself, if Mr. 
 Markham thought fit to* make his de- 
 mand personally, or by message, at the 
 York coffeehouse in St. James's Street, 
 and I presented him with my carer. 
 
 Both gentlemen exelaimed that mi 
 inquiry was indispensable; the first 
 speaker stilL treating me with a show of 
 deference and respect, which appeared 
 to me rather unaccountable, for I could 
 not recollect having ever seen him be- 
 fore ; and it must be confessed that nei- 
 ther my appearance nor demeanour 
 were very prepossessing. The truth was
 
 213 
 
 (as I wished to persuade myself), that he 
 had a quick apprehension and a high 
 spirit; contemned the meanness of 
 Markham's carriage ; and reflected that 
 a gentleman might be poor, and that 
 poor gentlemen are inclined to be pee- 
 vish. 
 
 This scene, although short, and con- 
 ducted without tumult, was not barren 
 of incident ; and shows, as well as some 
 other passages in my history, how much 
 an ingenious person may do in a little 
 time. Here, in a few minutes, I had 
 dexterously renewed one acquaintance, 
 made another, involved myself in a duel, 
 and gathered a crowd round me. On 
 perceiving this latter circumstance I 
 withdrew ; not observing that Dyer was 
 amongst the spectators ; and, as he since
 
 214 
 
 told me, had been present from the 
 commencement. 
 
 He laid hold of my arm, and proposed 
 mir dining together as usual ; to which 
 I objected, pretending business, and de- 
 signing to go directly to the appointed 
 coffeehouse, and there wait till mid- 
 night, rather than miss my expected 
 interview with Markham or his pleni- 
 potentiary. But, Dyer was too saga- 
 cious to be misled : " I know," said he, 
 " your meaning; the evasion cannot 
 deceive me ; so, with your permission, 
 we shall dispatch our meal, and be in 
 sufficient time for your business of im- 
 portance, in which I intend to have a 
 share: but you need not be at all ap- 
 prehensive of any attempt on my part to 
 dissuade you from your purpose. I am
 
 215 
 
 not fond of trouble, and to correct the 
 opinions of the world, and make mad 
 men wise, would require a good deal ; 
 but, to use the cant phrase of fashion- 
 able murderers, you may be in want of 
 a friend on this occasion, and I am at 
 your service. " 
 
 I saw that any farther reserve was 
 needless, and with many thanks ac- 
 cepted his generous offer. We then 
 hastened to get dinner over, and that 
 done, adjourned to the York coffee- 
 house, where I occasionally received my 
 letters, and read the daily papers; and 
 where I made no doubt I should speedily 
 have some communication from my an- 
 tagonist. We asked for a room, de- 
 siring the waiter, if any one inquired 
 for me, to show the person in.
 
 216 
 
 By way of filling- up the interval, I 
 tried to draw Dyer into conversation on 
 indifferent matters j but he exhibited 
 none of his habitual promptitude: on 
 the contrary, assuming a severe satiri- 
 cal look, and mimicking the broad ac- 
 cent of Sir Lucius O'Trigger, he said ; 
 " I am considering, Mr. Ardent, whe- 
 ther you had better be pickled and sent 
 home, or be put to lie in the Abbey: 
 not that I stand in much awe of the tern* 
 per of your adversary ; but there was 
 in the manner of his chief friend some- 
 what alarming. His perfect coolness 
 was evidently professional, and his alert- 
 ness, when the affair threatened hos- 
 tilities, was national : I am much mis- 
 taken if he prove not a man of the 
 sword, and a native of Ireland ; a coun-
 
 -217 
 
 try of which perhaps you do not know 
 as much as I do. Instead of talking of 
 the French Assembly, I will tell you in 
 confidence what I think of our sister 
 island. The inhabitants of it are the 
 most extraordinary people on earth; 
 and a . better system of education than 
 they generally partake of, is only want- 
 ing to make them the most respectable. 
 " The worst and the best characters 
 I have ever met with, were the children 
 of that soil; which, by the bye, should 
 not be entitled, as it vulgarly is, the 
 land of fogs, or bogs, or brogues, or 
 potatoes ; but the land of energies, 
 where nothing good or bad is supposed 
 to be done properly unless done vigo- 
 rously ! And I really think, as was plea- 
 santly observed by one partial to the 
 country, that her very vices are but vir- 
 VOL. I. L
 
 218 
 
 tues gone astray. When a true gentle- 
 man there takes the field for single 
 combat, he has to contend with an op- 
 ponent more formidable than his armed 
 adversary, — his own warm, tender, and 
 generous heart; which is brave enough 
 to dare every thing except the force of 
 prejudice: neither with him is there 
 (bold as the assertion may be) one par- 
 ticle of criminality in the act; all is 
 principle, and a strict and rigid confor- 
 mity to what he has been taught was 
 his first duty. Very absurd I confess 
 such education to be; yet is it impos- 
 sible to avoid feeling reverence for the 
 man, who, in compliance with such a 
 sentiment, encounters those evils our na- 
 ture tells us to fly ; and hazards lacera- 
 tion or death, sooner than endure con- 
 tempt. As for you, you have reduced
 
 219 
 
 yourself to a vexatious dilemma 5 and 
 the absurdity of your conduct will one 
 day perhaps strike you more forcibly 
 than it does now; you have committed 
 a deed of folly without provocation — if 
 any thing can authorise foolishness; and 
 have pledged yourself to support it by 
 committing one still greater." At 
 which consoling period of his speech 
 entered, precisely as I expected, Mr. 
 Markham's embassador; and seeing me 
 in conversation with a stranger, re- 
 quested a moment's audience apart. I 
 begged of him to sit down, and observed 
 that I guessed the object of his visit; 
 adding, that Mr. Dyer was my most par- 
 ticular friend. " Then sir," said he, " I 
 shall be brief: I stand in the same cha- 
 racter to Mr. Markham; he resents 
 your behaviour to him this afternoon,, 
 L2
 
 220 
 
 of which I need not remind you; and 
 conceives, as indeed I do, that there 
 is but one method of adjusting the affair : 
 he did, to be sure, say something of an 
 apology, but I told him the thing was 
 impossible, and that after a blow im- 
 plied, unless there were some shooting 
 I could have nothinsr further to do with 
 the business : and here, you see, I con- 
 sulted your good as much as his; be- 
 cause I take it for granted that if you 
 had not thought him brave enough to 
 go out with you, you would not have 
 affronted him." 
 
 There was so much magnanimity in 
 the conclusion, and so much blood- 
 thirsty complaisance in the foregoing 
 part of this address, that for an instant 
 I was undetermined how to reply ; and 
 began by saying I was Yery much
 
 221 
 
 obliged to him however: but he pre- 
 tended to understand me literally, and 
 observed, that he could not take all the 
 merit of the intended meeting on him- 
 self either ; " for I do believe," said he," 
 « that Mr. Markham would have had 
 you out of his own accord; but for fear 
 of accidents I just threw in a word." 
 I could not resist smiling when I repeat- 
 ed my sense of obligation, and was pro- 
 ceeding, when this extraordinary person 
 interrupted me : " My dear sir, I hope 
 vou do not really mistake me ! If you 
 knew me better, you would also know I 
 am not fond of fighting; I am not, upon 
 my honour ; but there ar ; e cases where 
 one fights to avoid trouble : I was fond 
 of it once ; like a great many others, be- 
 fore X knew what it meant; but I have 
 7.3-
 
 222 
 
 had my full share. It does not much 
 signify who I am, yet as I was not in- 
 troduced I may as well tell you that" — 
 (Here he rung the bell and called for a 
 bottle of wine ; insisting on our helping 
 him to get through it in so pleasant a 
 manner that his invitation was not to be 
 withstood) — " My name is Lewis Orlop, 
 and I'm a lieutenant in the navy — Gen- 
 tlemen, your good healths." We then 
 expected — at least I did, and probably 
 my reader does, a long history of hard 
 service, embroidered with much cursing 
 and swearing; various battles, and allu- 
 sions to merit unrewarded, and wounds 
 recompensed by neglect; and were I 
 composing either a novel or a comedy, 
 such touches would I suppose have been 
 requisite, to complete the picture of our
 
 223 
 valiant seaman: but he -without using 
 any maritime phraseology, or swearing 
 one oath-dropped all further mention 
 of his private concerns, and politely 
 said, « I have, Mr. Ardent, formed to 
 myself a conjecture as to the cause of 
 the unfortunate altercation which has 
 made us acquainted: I shall tell you 
 what I think of it, and if I am in error, 
 I will ask pardon of Mr. Markham ; if 
 not, I shall ask yours: your feelings 
 were wrung on finding yourself slighted 
 by one who had heen your friend ; is it 
 
 not so?" 
 
 I expected this observation in sub- 
 stance ; but there was exquisite delicacy 
 in the expression; it acknowledged my 
 quality and my claims as a gentleman, 
 without glancing at my decayed condi-
 
 224 
 
 tion, which must have been obvious to 
 him. I was charmed with the man ; 
 and not less so Dyer, who had hitherto 
 remained silent and wrapped up in him- 
 self, though not inattentive; but this 
 last stroke of character roused him ; and 
 I saw that his philosophy was giving 
 way : he cast a most expressive look to- 
 wards me, yet still persevered in his si- 
 lence. I then told Orlop, that the mo- 
 tive he had assigned for my behaviour 
 was the true one ; but that I should not 
 conceal from him a circumstance which 
 had contributed to enrage me with Mi\ 
 Markhamj: who, previous to our inter- 
 view, had fallen in my esteem, having 
 conducted himself unhandsomely to- 
 wards a lady whom I particularly re- 
 spected,.
 
 225 
 
 " With that at present, however, in- 
 terrupted the lieutenant, we have no- 
 thing to do : I am sorry to have engag- 
 ed myself in any thing like hostility 
 with you and your friend : but I am en- 
 gaged, and must fulfil my promise." 
 
 After some further conversation, a 
 spot in Hyde Park was fixed on for our 
 meeting at eight the next morning, 
 where I assured him I should not fail 
 to be; of which he did me the honour 
 to say he had not any doubt; and then 
 observing that he had outstaid his time, 
 and shaking hands with me, took his 
 leave. 
 
 Immediately after, Dyer and I also 
 left the coffeehouse; and he not making 
 any comments on what had passed, but 
 desiring me to be ready for him early
 
 226 
 
 the following day, left me, when near 
 my lodging, and went in search of 
 suitable weapons and ammunition, which 
 he designed to borrow of an acquaint- 
 ance. 
 
 END OF VOL. I. 
 
 Ellerton and Byworth, Printers, Johnson's Court, Fleet Street,
 
 
 V .3 01 12 049781 997