THE HISTORY OF
Jack Connor,
Now
Conyers.
VOLUME II.
THE SECOND EDITION, Corrected.
But not to treat my Subject as in Jest,
(Yet may not Truth in laughing Guise be drest?
As Masters fondly sooth the Boys to read,
With Cakes and Sweetmeats
) let us now proceed
With graver Air, our serious Theme pursue,
And yet preserve our Moral full in View.
FRANCIS'S HORACE.
LONDON:
Printed for W. JOHNSTON, at the
Golden Ball,
in St.
Paul
's Church-Yard.
MDCCLIII.
THE HISTORY OF
Jack Connor,
now
Conyers.
CHAP. I.
He parted frowning from me, as if Ruin
Leap'd from his Eyes.
SHAKESPEARE.
S OME few Days pass'd in the common Way, when Mr.
Sangfroid
entered, and with Pleasure told
Conyers,
he had provided him a good Place.—
My Lord Bishop of —,
said he,
wants just such an one as you to transcribe his
Works,
and keep some Accounts.
—
Conyers,
without Hesitation, accepted the Offer, and next Morning was presented to the
Bishop,
and immediately entered on his Office.
HIS
Lordship
was a great
Writer;
but his Works were intended for the Use of Posterity, having never published but a
Thanksgiving Sermon,
and one on the 30th of
January
by Order of the House of Lords. His Tracts were very voluminous, but all essential, and of the utmost Consequence to Mankind. His Treatise on the
Use
and
Abuse of Surplices and Lawn Sleeves
was filled with the profoundest Erudition.— His Discourse on
Pews, Cushions,
and
Mats,
in Churches, was extremely well handled; but the Postscript on
the Crime of sleeping in those Places,
was so artfully worded, that you felt an Example in yourself. —His Letter to the Inhabitants of the Parish of — clearly demonstrated the
Absurdity of a Steeple without Bells.
—His
Apology
and
Vindication
of
Murder, Adultery,
and
Fornication,
proving, mathematically, that the
Nature
and
Name
of these Crimes were entirely changed by
Circumstance, Time,
and
Place,
was a most learned and elaborate Performance; but his favourite Work was his
History
and
Doctrine
of
Tithes,
which he demonstrated to be an
Essential of True Religion.
HIS Lordship, at different Times, was so good as fully to explain these Subjects to
Conyers,
who in three Months had transcribed the Treatise on
Surplices,
and had just began the last-mentioned Work. He had full Employment, but was not extremely pleased with the Nature of it, for his Taste was so vitiated, that he found no Charms in what he did not understand.
THE Bishop kept a plentiful Table, where his
Clergy
were welcome, except the poorer Sort, to whom he made ample Amends for the Distinction by small Presents and large Promises. He was a Man of Virtue, and religiously kept his Word, when his Memory, which was none of the best, fail'd him not. So weak was he in that Quarter, that he remembered and forgot his Promise to a poor Curate ten different Times, and as often was angry with himself. On these Occasions he used to say,
Well, God help me! I find I am grown old; my Faculties can't last for ever;—
The Lord gave, and the Lord taketh away.
—Sometimes indeed his Memory was very sharp, for if one, or ten of his Clergy, were sick, he never failed a daily Enquiry after their Health; and when any died, he never suffered the Living to lapse. He could not bear Contradiction, and no Doubt his Dependants were careful not to offend in that Article.—He did not
like Money,
but he passionately
lov'd it.
JACK did not much approve of his Situation. He lived well, but he plainly saw he had no great Prospect of a future Fortune, and looked on himself as
Gil Blas
when with the Archbishop, which determined him to be soon convinced of what he had to depend on. He had Thoughts of writing a modest and moving Letter to his Lordship; but then he remembered, That '
a Verse may catch him, who a Sermon flies;
so resolved to write a Stanza or two, and leave it on my Lord's Desk next Morning. Accordingly he sat down and wrote,
Tho' ev'ry
Virtue
fills my Heart,
Tho'
Modesty
o'er-spreads my Face,
What are their
Worth,
except some
Art
Can raise these Virtues into
Place.
Yet tho' I can't myself
commend,
Kind
Fate
may still relieve my Want,
And, as
dull Sermons
always end,
Heaven of it's gracious Mercy grant!
MY LORD mounted to his Study as usual, and found the Scrowl, which he carefully read, and as carefully put into his Pocket.—Family Prayers and Breakfast being ended,
Jack
was ordered to attend him.—
Good-morrow, Mr.
Conyers,
said his Lordship, I am extremely concerned that my Understanding did not discover your Worth and Genius before this Morning. They are so uncommon, they ought to be rewarded.
—
Jack
applauded himself for his lucky Thought, but my Lord proceeded —
I have a Paper in my Hand, on which you will permit my making a few Remarks. I believe it is intended for Poetry, which at the best, is an idle unprofitable Study; I shall not speak of the Rhime, but of the Subject. — Your first Line is false, for as you want
Prudence,
you cannot have
every Virtue.
—Your second is not Fact, for I never saw you
blush
in my Life.—Oh— I ask your Pardon, you blush now indeed.—As to the
Worth
of your
Virtues
and
Modesty,
I am afraid you will find it of little or no Value, and your
Art
must be extraordinary, if you think to impose on
me.
— But it seems you want a
Place.
— I shall soon put you into the High-road to Preferment.—Your Second Stanza is most admirable. — You can't
Praise yourself,
poor Gentleman! although you tell us of your
Virtue
and
Modesty.
— This indeed is the Height of Modesty! Then, like a true Heathen, you believe in
Fate.
— If so, pray Mr.
John
take care of your Fate.—Here you complain bitterly of
Want.
Can any Man be said to want, who has three good Meals a Day?— Now comes the best of all.— You are one of those fine Gentlemen who can't play the Fool but they must bring in the
Church.
You abuse
Sermons.
— Who make Sermons but the Clergy?— and the
Clergy
make the
Church.
These Matters, Mr.
John,
ought to be held in Reverence by all Men, much more by such as you.'— 'I most humbly beseech your Lordship,
said Jack,
to —' 'Pray Sir, spare me,
said my Lord,
for I have but a few Words more to say.—You were so good as to give me a Bit of
Poetry,
and, in Return, permit me to give you a Bit of
Prose.
—He then rung his Bell, and giving him a Paper proceeded.—
Here is, Mr.
John Conyers,
some of my own Composition, and to shew you it is of some Value, pray tack these ten Guineas to it.—So now, Mr.
John Conyers,
you are a Free-Man, and have my Consent to get what
Place
you please.
—My Lord's Gentleman then entered the Chamber.—
Lewis, said my Lord,
here is Mr.
John,
who has given me such a Lecture on his
Modesty,
that convinces me is the most impudent Fellow breathing: So, bid the Porter open the Door and let him out. Such Modesty ought to be seen in the World.
—
Jack
was extremely mortified, and attempted to speak, but
Lewis
shoulder'd him out of the Room. Finding he could have no Remedy, he bundled up his little Effects, quitted the House, and soon visited Mr.
Sangfroid,
to whom he told his Story.
THIS Accident,
said his Friend,
gives me little Concern, for I believe his Lordship would never have provided for you as you deserve; but, if you will wear a Livery, I can get you into
Sir Peter Shallow
's Service To-morrow. He is a Member of Parliament, and perhaps, in Time, may procure you an Employment.'—'It is worth the Trial,
said Conyers,
and a Livery shall be no Objection.
—Next Day
Jack
attended
Sir Peter,
and received the Badge of Office; but, by the Advice of his Friend, he took the Name of
Constant.
CHAP. II.
There,
Affectation,
with a sickly Mein,
Shows in her Cheeks the Roses of Eighteen,
Practis'd to lisp, and hang the Head aside,
Faints into
Airs
and languishes with
Pride,
On the rich Quilt sinks with becoming Woe,
Wrapt in a Gown, for sickness, and for show.
The
Fair-ones
feel such Maladies as these,
When each new Night-dress gives a new Disease.
POPE'S
Rape of the Lock.
SIR PETER SHALLOW was a Gentleman of large Fortune, but more remarkable for his easy, quiet Temper, than strong Judgment. His Lady had somewhat of the opposite Character, and, as her
Understanding
informed her
Sir Peter
had but a small Share, she took the accustomed Priviledge of, sometimes, imposing on it, and indeed his great Fondness gave her frequent Opportunities.—Her Ladyship had a very delicate Constitution, and was afflicted with the
Spleen
and
Vapours
to such a Degree, that she has sometimes been silent for ten Minutes, then has burst out into Lamentations and Tears, then into violent Laughter, and end in a Swoon.—Doctor
Nostrum
constantly attended; but one Evening when he had finished
above,
Sir
John,
got him to taste some
Cape
Wine, and give some Account of her Ladyship's Disorder. —
Sir
John, said the Doctor,
who was a dry Joker, here is my Service to you.— Upon my Word very good Wine—very good Wine indeed, Sir. But—you were saying something of
that there
Disorder. —Why—to be sure, your
Hypochondriac
and
Hysteric
Disorders are troublesome,— very troublesome, and tedious, but seem, I may say, to be more so to the Husband or Wife, or Attendants, than to the
Patient
and
Physician.
I think I have had these Disorders, in a peculiar Manner under my Care, for these Thirty or Thirty-two Years last past; and I think I may say, that I understand them; that is, I know how to treat them properly.— There is no certain Rule to go by, for,— for as a skilful Mariner must find out the Trim of his Ship; so I say a skilful Physician must find out the Temper of his Patient. — If I prescribe a
China Jarr,
when the Malady is fix'd on a
Japan Cabinet,
I shall do Wrong,—be all out, and perchance may double the Disorder upon me.
I OWN, Doctor,
said Sir Peter,
I am no Judge of these Matters, but for my Blood, I cannot conceive what
Jarrs
or
Cabinets
have to do in the Affair'—O Lord, Sir
Peter, cry'd the Doctor
— but here's my best Respects.—In Truth it has a charming Flavour!—but, as you were saying,—or—as I was saying.—To explain this Phoenomenon, I shall not call in the
Ancients,
for they were ignorant, very ignorant of sundry modern Ailments, but account, that is, Reason upon them, on the Principles of the modern Philosophy. — Hem — hem — The Disorder is of the
Feminine Gender.
— When it attacks a
Masculine Figure,
it then becomes of the
doubtful.
— It is termed, by Pre-eminence,
Vapour,
from its ascending Quality; for it rises (you'll please to observe, Sir) in the Heart by the too quick Viberation of the Blood, and mounts directly to the Brain.—Thus —when an Object is placed before a Lady in such a Point of Light, that the Rays of her Eyes center, and form a
Focus
upon it, the Effect is surprizing.— The Object indeed remains sound and entire, but her Heart
burns for it.
— When the Heart Strings are untuned, no Wonder that the Voice is all Discord.—
A Diamond Solitair—A Gilt Chariot—Fine
Dresden
China —An
Indian
Skreen
— and the like, cause such a Fluttering of the animal Spirits, and raise such a longing for
possessing them,
that clearly demonstrates Sir
Isaac
's Doctrine of
Attraction
and
Vision.
—Contrary Principles will sometimes produce the same dreadful Effects—When a Lady delights in the innocent Amusement of PLAY, and has what they call, an
ill Run,
it undoubtedly will over-heat the Blood, and sour the Temper,— but I say—when she is not in a Condition to discharge such
honourable Debts,
the whole Mass is on a Ferment, and frequently produces Consequences very fatal to the Repose of the Family.
WOULD to Heaven,
said Sir Peter,
it was the Case of my dear Creature, I then could soon apply the Remedy.'—Why truly, Sir
Peter, replyed the Doctor,
two or three hundred Guineas make wonderful Alterations. I would advise you, Sir
Peter,
to see how my Prescriptions will operate for a Day or two.—If the Disorder don't take a Turn in that Time, why, apply your's.—But, here's my good Lady's better Health.—I profess it is a most delicious Cordial! — It warms my Heart.' — 'I fancy, Doctor,
said Sir Peter,
this Wine would be very proper for my dear Girl.—It would raise her Spirits.—'Raise her Spirits,
cryed the Doctor,
why, it is their being too high that causes the Disorder.—Besides—Besides—All dulciferous Fluids are bad.— Acid is her proper Regimen, and tho' it is true, there is an Acidity in all Sweets; it is not of the right Sort—Your right genuine
Sour,
is the surest Remedy.—I have ordered the Juice of the
Crab Apple
to be taken internally, and the fungous Matter to be apply'd, Plaister-ways, to the Shoulders and Back, with great Success.—I was once sent for to a rich Carpenter's in
Southwark,
whose Wife was suddenly seiz'd with the
Vapours.
—The poor Woman was as extremely ill as any Lady of the first Quality.—So, Sir,—as I was saying,—I was going to order her the Apples, but the Season not affording any, and her Case being very desperate, I directed her Husband to take a
slender Twig
of
that there
Tree of about three Foot long, and apply the same in so smart a Manner to the
Shoulders,
that the Part might be thoroughly warmed, and the Pores so opened, as at once to draw, and suffer the malignant
Effluvia
to
evaporate
with Ease.—Next Morning, Sir, I visited my Patient, but, to my very great Surprize, I found her chearfully sitting by the Kitchen Fire, darning her Husband's Stockings.—The Fellow was an ungrateful Dog — for he never employed me since.—I shall not,
Sir Peter,
take up more of your Time at present, but refer you to a small Folio on that Subject, which I have now ready for the Press,—This one Glass and no more.—Amongst a Variety of Observations, one is pretty general.—In all the Practice and Experience I have had, I never knew a Lady subject to Spleen or
Vapours,
who was bless'd with a
surly ill-natur'd
Husband.—In
Russia
the Disorder is unknown, otherwise the Great
Klincosky,
and the celebrated
Baroniwisky,
would have taken some Notice of it; but you frequently meet with the Use and Efficacy of the
Crab Tree,
and find it in most of their Prescriptions, which, perhaps, is given by way of Prevention.— But my Hour is come for a Consultation,—so—Sir
Peter,
your most obedient and most faithful humble Servant.
—
POOR Sir
Peter
was greatly edified by the Doctor's learned Dissertation, but had not Judgment enough to take his Advice; for, with the Impatience of a Lover, he flew to my Lady's Apartment, and finding her somewhat composed, tho' extremely feeble, he ventured to mention,
That perhaps she might want some little Necessaries he was unacquainted of, and intreated her Acceptance of Three Hundred Guineas.
— He threw the Money on the Table; but it was astonishing to observe, how quickly the
Remedy
operated.—Her Face glowed, Vermillion spread her Cheeks, she smil'd heavenly, and, at last, most tenderly embracing her dear Sir
Peter,
she sunk into his Arms, and every Symptom of the Malady vanished.
CHAP. III.
For as a
Pythagorean
Soul
Runs thro' all Beasts, and Fish and Fowl,
And has a Smack of ev'ry one;
So
Love
does, and has ever done;
And therefore, tho' 'tis ne'er so fond,
Takes strangely to the Vagabond:
'Tis but an
Ague
that's reverst,
Whose
hot-Fit
takes the Patient first;
That after burns with
Cold
as much
As Ice in
Greenland
does the Touch.
HUDIBRAS.
THE Servants had persuaded
Jack
to be a Member, and pay Quarteridge to a Society of
Footmen,
which they called a Parliament. This Convocation regulated diverse weighty Matters, and raised a Fund for the Maintenance of their Brethren
out of Place.
The Members took the Titles of their respective Masters, and spoke and acted so near their Characters, that it might be termed a
Saturnalia. Jack was but
too punctual a Visiter. If he improved not in his Manners by such Company, he thought, at least, that he was well diverted.
THE Constitution of this motly Synod, with their Conduct and Resolutions, must be postponed to another Chapter, that the Chain of this History may not be broken.
WAS our Hero intitled to an Estate, his Age would permit him to enjoy it.—His Complexion, his Manner, his Voice, but above all, his generous good-humoured Disposition, could not escape the piercing Eyes of Mrs.
Susanna Pinup.
This Lady acted in the humble Station of Waiting-Woman to Lady
Shallow.
From her Knowledge of sundry domestick Secrets, she had great Power in the Family, and, as the Servants phrase it, had
feathered her Nest.
Her great Sagacity not only discovered Charms in the Person of Mr.
John Constant,
but that he had Money likewise. The Union of such Perfections, merited her tenderest Regard, to which, she thought, if her own were added, the System of Happiness would be compleat.
WITH these Views Mrs.
Pinup
began to notice our
Jack
in a particular Manner. She shewed him every Civility; she honoured him frequently with her Conversation, and was so intimate and gracious, that he often drank Tea in her Chamber. Such a manifest Partiality drew on her the Resentment and scandalous Tongues of the other Servants; but, from her
exalted Seat,
she looked down with Contempt on the
vulgar Wretches.
—Mr.
Buffett,
the Butler, seemed most concerned, and, with a jaundic'd Eye, beheld this growing Passion, so fatal to his Hopes. This Gentleman had long sighed for Mrs.
Pinup,
and made sundry Libations of Pints of Sack, and other choice Wines, on the Shrine of her Beauty. His Project was as extensive as it was ambitious. He judged, that could he obtain the Heart of this Lady,
the cheating the Family
in every Branch, from the
Cellar,
upwards, would centre in his own Pocket. This was a Loss his Philosophy was not Proof against, and made him meditate dire Revenge.
Mrs. PINUP was so fond of
Jack,
and so secure of her darling Scheme, that she omitted some Essentials in bringing it to bear; for one Evening, when Protestations and Vows were plentifully bestowed on each other, and fervent Kisses and Embraces given, and returned with mutual Ardour, the
World
and all its
idle Ceremonies,
were forgotten, and equal Happiness cemented their Hearts without the Assistance of any
Priest,
except that of Love.
MATTERS were thus conducted for some Time; but Mrs.
Pinup
had praised
Jack
so much to Miss
Shallow,
that she longed to converse with him, and
Pinup
's Chamber gave her frequent Opportunities. Miss
Shallow
was Sister to Sir
Peter,
and had a Fortune of Ten Thousand Pounds. Her Education had been none of the best, and her Person was of that Sort, that a Man passes by without noticing. However,
Jack
's Vanity was strangely up, and Ten Thousand Pounds put a Million of Schemes into his Head, and his waking and sleeping Dreams were filled with
Equipage
and
Splendor.
—With some Difficulty and weighty Reasons, he persuaded
Pinup
to assist him, and Miss
Shallow
seemed no-ways averse to his
Caresses
and
Proposal,
tho' the was actually engaged to 'Squire
Hunt,
and the Marriage Writings drawn. In short, nothing was wanting to compleat this Affair but a convenient Opportunity, which would soon have happened, had not adverse Fate, in the Shape of Mr.
Buffett,
maliciously interpos'd.
JEALOUSY,
Envy, Interest
and
Revenge,
are powerful
separate,
but make strange Havock when
united. Buffett
had them all. He had never ceas'd watching the Motions of Mrs.
Pinup;
and his Discoveries were such, that they added to his Pain; but, when he found Miss
Shallow
was of the Party, Revenge opened an ample Field.
SIR
Peter,
as I've before observed, was not the brightest Genius in
England;
but, in Recompence, Nature had indulged him with a large Share of Pride,
(that Vice of little Minds!)
with which he sometimes imposed himself on the World as a Man of Consequence and great Importance.— Mr.
Buffett
knew his ruling Passion, and applied to it. On the first Notice, the
Knight
stormed and swelled with Rage; but the Butler moderated his Anger, and persuaded him into Patience, until he should convince him of the Truth.—Next Evening the Lovers met; but the artful
Buffett
had so contrived, that Sir
Peter
abruptly entered, and caught the unguarded Pair in their innocent Embraces, and Mrs.
Pinup
in the Midst of a Discourse on Constancy.—
Fine Doings in my House,
cryed Sir Peter,
— But I'll spoil your Sport, you impudent Son of a W—re.
— He ran directly at
Jack,
but
Love
and
Miss Shallow
averted the Blow, and gave him an Opportunity of slipping out of the Room. His Retreat was so precipitate, that he did not observe the Butler list'ning on the Stair-head, but drove against his Breast with such Force, that poor Mr.
Buffett
was hurried down a little improperly, for his
Head
went foremost. He fell with a mighty Noise, and the Alarm was general through the Family. — Had there been
Earth
or
Air-quakes
in those Days, no Doubt they had all ran to
Prayers,
and laughed at themselves for so doing, when the Danger was over.—Sir
Peter
thundered —Miss screamed, and
Pinup
wept so loud, that my Lady with her Company, and almost all the Servants, filled the Room in an Instant.
THE Knight thought he acted very cunningly, by not telling the
Whole
of this Affair before so many; but as he dropt some Words about Miss, and insisted that
Pinup
and
Jack
should be immediately discharged, he left them all Room enough to
think the worst,
tho', perhaps, their Charity and Good-nature wanted not his Help.—
My Lady
pleaded strongly for poor
Pinup;
yet at last she was obliged to consent, but with a Proviso, that the
Butler
should make a Third. Sir
Peter
gave him up very readily, so that in less than an Hour, the ill-fated Mr.
Buffett
lost his Cellar.—The unhappy
Pinup
lost all her Lover's Promises.—The unfortunate
Jack
lost Ten Thousand Pounds, and — next Day
Miss Shallow
lost her
Reputation,
but luckily she found it on the Third, in the Arms of
'Squire Hunt.
I FORGOT to mention, that Mr.
Sangfroid
had been lately obliged to accompany a Nobleman to
Lisbon;
so that
Jack
lost this
Asylum,
with his Advice and Friendship.—When he had packed up his Goods, and resigned his Livery, he found Mrs.
Pinup
waiting for him in the Hall, because, as she said,
One Coach might serve both.
— They mounted, but where to drive was not determined; but at last they stopt in
Southampton-street. Jack
alighted, and soon found a convenient Lodging, where the happy Pair acted the Part of
Man and Wife,
with great Harmony for about a Fortnight.
Pinup
often boasted her Riches, and tempted him, by shewing Thirty Guineas
in hard Gold,
besides
Linens and Woollens,
and sundry Gowns and Petticoats.—
Jack
was Proof against all Tears and Intreaties. — 'Psha,
said he,
I've more than that myself. Marry! — we should be pretty Devils truly! No, no, Child, keep your Money, and I'll keep your Secret.'—'I don't understand,
said she,
what you mean by Secrets. — If I have any, I believe it won't be a Secret long.—I wish your
Money
was no more a Secret than mine.'—'So much for Secrets,
reply'd Jack,
now for the Proof. Do you see that large Trunk, my Dear? 'Tis the faithful Repository of
fifty Guineas.
' Ay, ay,
said she,
I see both your Trunks, but for the Money,
seeing's believing.'
'You have no more Faith,
cry'd Jack,
than an
Ebrew Jew;
but I shall convince you in a Moment.
—The large Trunk had not been open'd, by him, these six Months, and he found the Lock rusty, and more difficult than it used to be. At last he got the better, but was surprized at seeing some of his Effects out of order. In a little Flutter, he search'd for his Purse, but not readily finding it, his Hurry increased, and he pull'd out an
old Great Coat,
and some tatter'd Shirts artfully mingl'd with some of his Things of little Value.—In a Word, his
Money
and his best Effects were vanish'd. — He flew in an Instant to the small Trunk, which contain'd his ordinary wear, and in which he had very oddly placed the
small Box
his old Friend Mr.
Kindly
had given him, and most of Mr.
Villeneuf
's and his own Papers. Finding this safe and untouch'd, he sat down in Silence, tho' greatly perplex'd.
BLESS me, said Mrs.
Pinup,
what ails the Man?—Sure, you
haven't
lost your
Money?
— Yes,
said Jack,
'tis gone, — every Shilling gone! but how, or which Way, Heaven knows!—Heaven knows!
said she,
I believe Heaven knows very well you had no such Thing, but that you've betray'd and cheated a poor innocent Woman; but since I find these are your Tricks, I shall take Care of myself, I assure you.—Very well,
reply'd Jack,
pray proceed, for I am in a Temper to provoke a
Saint;
for I sha'n't answer.
—As she had nothing to fear, she saluted him with bitter Terms, and many stinging Reproaches, till
Tears
interven'd, and gave him a Recess.—
Since,
said he,
you are so good to be silent, because you have no more to say, pray let me be heard.—I have my Quarter's Wages in my Pocket, which will more than pay the Lodging. Let me have a little Repose this Night, and To-morrow you may dispose of yourself how and which way you please, for, by the Lord, this shall be the last.
—
Pinup
attempted a Reply, but he swore in so peremptory a Manner, as frighten'd the poor Woman into Silence. They retir'd to Bed, but
Love
and
Repose
had forsaken it, and
Hatred
and
Disquietude
took their Place. The dawning Day rous'd
Jack
from his Pillow, and
Pinup
unwillingly follow'd. He generously paid all Charges, and putting his Trunks on a Bier, parted with this Lady, telling her, before the Land-lady, that she might follow at her Leisure, but, as he intended, so, he never saw her after.
CHAP. IV.
EXAMPLE
is a living Law, whose Sway
Men more than all the written Laws obey.
SEDLEY.
AS the dropping Water will, in Time, impress even Marble, so
low
and
mean Company
will communicate their Sentiments and infect even an Heart of Understanding and Virtue.
Jack
now ceas'd to be the
agreeable
and the
polite.
He
swore
much, and sometimes
drank.
He had contracted a saucy impertinent Air, and instead of that humble, modest Deportment that drew on him the
Love
and
Esteem
of the World, his Looks and Actions seem'd to demand them as his
Right,
and as due to his Person and superior Merit. He forgot all the Lessons and Instructions of his Friends, and thought his own Experience and great Knowledge were sufficient to conduct him, without the Assistance of
pedantick
Rules, or the
musty Gravity
of old Philosophers.
HOWEVER, this last Stroke of Fortune had alter'd his
Thermometer,
and
Pride
sunk down to
extreme Humility.
In this Temper he apply'd to Mr.
Edge,
a Barber, to whom he made known his Situation. Honest
Edge
was sorry to find him in such Distress, and provided him a Room for two Shillings a Week, but for his Diet, he was to manage the best Way he could. He had still three Guineas and some Silver remaining, and waited, with great Anxiety, for a Turn of Fortune.
AS our Hero, like other Heroes, has found a Time for Idleness and Inaction, it furnishes me an Opportunity of examining the
Memoirs of the Parliament of Footmen,
and making such Extracts as I judge of publick Use and Benefit.
THIS noble Order held their Assemblies at sundry
Beer-Houses,
but all united in the main View of giving Laws to, and providing a Maintenance for the Brethren who came within their Rules. The Chamber our Friend frequented was fill'd with the Servants of
Dukes, Lords, Bishops, Knights
and
Squires,
and made up a subscribing Body of about two hundred, of which forty or fifty were commonly present at each weekly Assembly. As these
great
Men, follow'd the Example of their
great
Superiors, they were less clamorous than might be expected. An old Gentleman fill'd the Chair as
Speaker,
and kept Matters in most excellent order.
THE following are a few of their principal Resolutions; for by the Advice of Friends, I shall speedily publish,
by Subscription,
a full and impartial History of this
noble Order,
in seven Volumes Octavo, in which will be included all their Speeches on the most interesting Subjects, and a complete System of Wisdom and Prudence. The Resolutions necessary in this Place are as follow.
RESOLVED, That each Member, when out of Place, shall receive two Shillings each Week, for the Term of six Months, but no longer. On his getting a new Livery to pay fresh Entrance.
RESOLVED, That each Member pay five Shillings on his Admittance, and two Shillings and Sixpence each Quarter.
RESOLVED, That no Member, when accompanying his Master or Mistress in their Visits, shall attempt to open or hold the Coach Door, or afford them any the least Assistance, but leave them to the Care of the Servants of the Family visited.
RESOLVED, That the Hats, Swords or Canes of Gentlemen visiting our respective Masters, shall be seized upon, and kept in safe Custody, until the said Gentlemen depart. Should any of the said Gentlemen refuse or neglect to pay the usual Compliment, it shall and may be lawful to change his said Hat,
&c.
or have them mislaid or lost, and, as Occasion serves, to give him Water when he calls for Wine; small Beer when he desires Bread; and, if he be an obstinate Offender, entirely to disregard and affront him.
RESOLVED, That as we look on the Tables of our Masters as
Ordinaries,
so we expect to be paid in Proportion to their Rank, from half a Crown to half a Guinea.
RESOLVED, That no Persons paying a Morning Visit to our respective Masters, and particularly
Trades-People
with
Bills,
shall be permitted to see them, except on Payment of the usual and accustomed
Fee,
but on their Compliance, then our said Masters to be made visible, notwithstanding any Orders to the contrary.
RESOLVED, That all
Tradesmen
shall be obliged to pay at the Rate of Five Pounds by the Hundred, for every Commodity sold to our respective Masters; and the said
Tradesmen
are hereby empower'd to make an extraordinary Charge of ten Pounds by the Hundred.
RESOLVED, That in attending our Masters or Mistresses to the Play-house, or any other publick Spectacle where we are admitted, we will endeavour to imitate their Conduct, by doing our utmost to disturb the Audience. This will demonstrate our Power, and shew the Use of exalting us.
RESOLVED, That no Member shall be entitled to the Benefit of this Society, who shall live more than three Months in any Family who do not play Cards five Nights in the Week,
Sunday
Night included; neither shall he receive any Benefit, if it can be proved that he has suffer'd any Diminution to his Authority and legal Privileges.
RESOLVED, And it is hereby most solemnly agreed, by the Honour and Dignity of
our Cloth,
that should any Member of this Society marry the
Relict
of his Master, or the
Daughter
of his Master or Mistress, that he shall pay into the Hands of our Treasurer, Ten Shillings for every Hundred Pounds obtained by such Marriage.
RESOLVED, That any Member, guilty of
Robbery
or
Theft,
shall be expell'd this Society. Nevertheless, this is not understood to extend to
Breach of Trust,
Embezzlement of Goods, and the
necessary
Frauds in
Bread, Coals, Candles, Oats,
&c. which we regard as Privileges annexed to our Posts, and Part of our
just Perquisites.
RESOLVED, That each Member be as careful as possible of all his Apparel, except the
Livery,
and that he practises all lawful Ways and Means to wear out his Master's
Shirts, Shoes, Stockings,
&c.
THEY had many more, equally wholesome Laws, not made,
like some others,
to be broken or despised, for I apprehend they kept strictly to each.
CHAP. V.
Endure and conquer;
Jove
will soon dispose
To future Good our past and present Woes:
An Hour will come with Pleasure to relate
Your Sorrows past, as Benefits of Fate.
DRYDEN'S VIRGIL.
JACK
remain'd at the Barber's about three Weeks; and tho' he received his
Parliamentary
Pension very punctually, yet his Money diminished apace.
HE saw no Appearance of Advancement, and gloomy melancholy Thoughts rack'd his Brain. With a View of alleviating his Sorrows, he frequently took a
Dram,
and innocently amused himself with one or two very
low Amours.
This made his Purse feel a very sensible Decay, for it now contain'd but a very few Shillings.— Mad and wild at the Cruelty of his Fate, a thousand Projects fill'd his Head, and at last ended in the noble Resolution of spending the Little he had in Pleasure, and then to resign a Life that became burthensome to him. He brought many weighty Reasons to vindicate the Action, and call'd, to his Mind the Example of sundry great Men who accounted it meritorious. —
Why are we,
said he,
brought into the World but to enjoy the few Pleasures of it with Ease and Content.—What Ease have I? —What Content?—If the Reasons of
Being
cease, it is but just we should cease to
Be
—Besides, What are all the Pleasures of this World, even in the highest Gratification, but
idle stupid
Repetitions of the same stupid Amusements? —
Come, gentle Thames, and peaceful Grave now come, for
Conyers
is aweary of this World, and longs to lay his troubled Head in Dust!
HE was now in St.
James
's
Park.
His Steps were slow; his Arms were folded; his Head reclined, and a fix'd Melancholy was seated on his Brow.—In the Midst of these Reflections, two of his
quondam
Brethren pass'd him by; but one, turning about, cry'd,—
Z—ns,
Jack Constant!
— Such a Man alive! Where the Devil have you hid yourself these thousand Years?
—These Sort of Greetings finished, they enter'd into Particulars.
I suppose,
said Tom Smart,
you are now one of those poor dastardly Scoundrels, who starve in a rich World.'— 'Let him starve,
cry'd Jack Brazen,
if he han't Spirit enough to fish in troubled Waters.' 'Come, come,
said Smart,
d'ye really want Money?'— 'Not much,
reply'd our Friend,
for I believe I have a Shilling; but where to get another, the Lord knows.' — 'Here's a Guinea, my Boy,
said Smart,
you see I don't want Money, nor need you, if you'll take our Advice; but let's dine together, and talk that Matter over.
THEY dined, and a Bottle of
Port
was open'd, as well as the Conversation.
Smart
dwelt long on the partial Distribution of the good Things of this World, and on the Necessity of correcting the Scheme.—
Is it just,
said he,
that Numbers of good-for-nothing worthless Animals shall wallow in
Plenty
and
Abundance,
whilst such young Fellows as us may want the common Conveniencies of Life?'—Very just,
said Brazen,
provided they will permit our using some of their Superfluities.'— D—me,
said Jack,
but I am all in the Dark. I wish you'd speak a little plainer, or not speak at all. You may depend on my Secrecy, for I am almost already in the Grave. Now, Gentlemen, if you've a Mind to bring me to Life, come to the Point directly, and a thousand to one but I'll join in your Scheme.' — 'Well said, honest
Jack, cry'd Smart,
then to the Point.—You must know, that
Brazen
and I were turn'd a-drift together from my Lord's. We wore out our Shoes and the Pavement, but could get no Employment; and something told us, that Eating was necessary, so, my
dear Constant,
we
padded
it about the Fields for some Time, and, by our Industry, have risen to
Horse.
We are at this Time
Commissioners of the Highways,
and collect those
Duties
omitted in the Acts of
Parliament.
'— 'I understand you,
said Jack;
but does it answer? Is it not dangerous?' — 'It answers,
said Smart,
extremely well, tho', to be sure, it is a little hazardous; but where is the Employment without it? — Don't the Merchant venture for Lucre, and the Soldier and Sailor risk their
Lives
for Six-pence a Day?— Some risk their
Reputation,
and most People risk their
Souls.
— Believe me,
Jack,
the whole World is a Game of Hazard, and (shewing his Pistols) here are my
Dice.
—Will you set?
OUR Hero paus'd, and a violent Conflict arose in his Breast between
Virtue
and
Necessity.
—At last,
Brazen
clapp'd him on the Shoulder, and cry'd, —
What says my dear Boy?—Will you make a Third, and then our Party is compleat?— Gentlemen,
said Jack,
give me your Hands. Now I am a Brother. — Command and lead me where you please.
That Night they conducted him to their Lodging, and gave him a Horse for the Morning Expedition, and three Guineas more. They rose very early, and
Jack
put on a Pair of Spatterdashes, examin'd his Saddle and Pistols, and found all Things in tolerable Order.
THE Plan of Operation was settled by
Smart,
but, providentially,
Jack
made a small Alteration.
No, Gentlemen,
said he,
let us not set out together, or keep Company on the Road, as it may cause Suspicion; let us rather divide, and ride on to
Staines,
but join on
Hounslow-heath
precisely at Eleven o'Clock, when we can't fail of meeting the Coach we look for. — Besides, when separate, we may each pick up a single Traveller to amuse us before the principal Action.'—'Very right,
said Smart,
then I'll advance first,
Brazen
will follow in half an Hour, and you will bring up the Rear in another; so, Gentlemen, Good-morrow, Success attend us.
—He rode off, and
Brazen
but rested his proper Time.
WHEN alone,
Jack
began to consider this Affair more circumspectly, but not with a Design of breaking his Engagement. The Fellow, who took Care of the Horses, was no Stranger to the Expedition, and congratulated his new Master, on the Prospect of making his Fortune.
Tim, said Jack,
I have a Thought that will surprize my Friends; if you will assist me I'll give your a Crown for your Trouble.' —That I will, Master,
answer'd Tim,
and be true and faithful too.'— 'Well, then,
said Jack,
take my Horse, and ride a little beyond the Church at
Hounslow,
and wait for me; you may depend I shan't keep you long. When you deliver me the Horse, go directly across the Heath.
—
Tim
promis'd to obey his Orders, and set forwards.
TWO odd Circumstances happen'd to
Jack.
He very fortunately knew the Name of a Family that liv'd just by
Hounslow,
of which he intended to make a proper Use; and the Old Great Coat which he found in his Trunk, he had made into a
Surtout,
and was then on his Back. This Coat was of that Sort of Cloath that is one Side Scarlet, and the other Blue; it was single, and not lined. This Day the Blue was outside, and the Sleeves turn'd up, made Scarlet Cuffs. Thus dress'd, he walk'd to
Piccadilly,
and took a Post-Chaise to
Hounslow,
where he arrived at Ten o'Clock. With great Civility he enquired of Mrs.
Day
about the Family he said he was going to visit. He call'd for a Gill of Wine, and the good Woman answer'd all his Questions, which were such, as made her imagine he was a Relation of the Family, and had just come from Abroad. He hinted, that perhaps he might stay there a Week, or return in an Hour, when he'd be glad of a Post-Chaise ready for
London.
Mrs.
Day
assuring him he should have one at a Moment's Warning, he walk'd forward tho' with a troubled Mind, and soon found his Horse. When
Tim
had march'd off, he turn'd his
Surtout,
and was now in Scarlet, with Blue Sleeves.
HE rode on about three Miles, and met with his Friends, who began to be in some Pain about him.
Z—ds,
said Smart,
what the Devil kept you so long?—but we have no Time to talk, for the Coach is at Hand. You are to keep the Postillion and Coachman in Awe;
Brazen
will do the same with the Servants, and let me alone for
conversing
with the Passengers. When the Jobb's over, let's separate, and meet at our Lodging.
THEY had no Time for further Deliberation, for the Coach drew near.— Courage!
cry'd Smart,
and all rode briskly forward.—
Jack
did his Duty with the Postillion;—The Servants, making a Resistance, received a Fire from
Brazen,
which did no Harm; but the Compliment was instantly return'd, and poor
Brazen
fell from his Horse. Whilst this was doing,
Smart
attack'd the Coach, but a Gentleman in it, with great Resolution, so nimbly, and with such Strength, turn'd his Wrist, that the Pistol went off in the Air, and immediately one of the Servants rode up, and knock'd him down.
JACK, finding two Wings of his Army taken Prisoners, was determin'd to save the Remainder by a speedy Flight. The Gentlemen and Servants were so busy about
Smart
and
Brazen,
that he was not pursu'd, but got near
Hounslow
in a short Time.— His former Caution had now its Use; for tying his Horse to a Tree, a little out of the Road, he once more turn'd his Coat, and walk'd leisurely on to the Inn. With a tolerable Coolness of Temper, he desir'd a Post-Chaise; but accidentally a Horse was wanting, which obliged him to wait a full half Hour, which, no doubt, he thought was half an Age. He summon'd all his Resolution to avoid Suspicion, and talk'd to Mrs.
Day
about the Family he had visited. His Chaise was just ready when Mr.
Day
enter'd.—
There, now,
said he,
is two fine Gentlemen that have made a noble
Kettle of Fish
of it this Morning.' — 'Bless me, my Dear,
said Mrs. Day,
what's the Matter? — Not much,
reply'd her Husband,
only a Coach was stopp'd on the Heath by three High-waymen, and two of 'em
is
taken, and now at next Inn.'—'Dear Sirs,
said Mrs. Day,
'tis the most
preposteroustest
Thing
in Life,
that Gentlefolks won't travel in
Post Chaiseses,
and then they're always safe from these Fellows.'—'Well, well,
said her Husband,
I must send after the
Third
who escap'd; I'll engage to find out his
Scarlet Coat
before Night.'— Were it not,
said Mrs. Day,
that these poor Creatures
pay
for being Taken, I am
sure and certain
my Husband would never trouble his Head about them; because, you know, Sir, one of the Gang will
peach,
and then the others
hang
of Course.
WHAT were the Emotions of
Jack
's Soul, cannot be express'd. He felt Agonies that all his former Distresses had never plung'd him into; but, recollecting his Situation, he chim'd in with Mrs.
Day,
and spoke greatly against the Disturbers of the Publick.—At last, he took his Leave of Mrs.
Day,
mounted his Chaise, and got safe to
London,
but often thought the Horses were very bad.
CHAP. VI.
To he Good, is to be Happy: Angels
Are happier than Men, because they're better.
Guilt is the Source of Sorrow; 'tis the Fiend,
Th' avenging Fiend, that follows us behind
With Whips and Stings. The Bless'd know none of this,
But rest in everlasting Peace of Mind,
And find the Height of all their Heav'n in Goodness.
ROWE.
GUILT is a
Fiend,
that seizing the Conscience, becomes a Tyrant over every Idea of Man.
Remorse
is his Companion, and
Suspicion
and
Fear
constantly pursue his Steps.
Disquietude
engrosses every Thought, and even his sleeping Imagination is fill'd with Dread and Horror. —Our poor Hero is now an Object of the greatest Compassion.—He knew not whom to trust, where to fly for Safety, or how to
live;
and he had now discover'd that he was very unfit to
die.
—He got to his Lodging, and telling the Barber that he was engaged to a Gentleman at
Hampstead,
he paid a Week's Rent, call'd a Coach, and drove, with his Effects, to an Inn in
South-wark.
NOT secure in so publick a Place, he found out a poor Widow in a neighbouring Village, with whom he agreed for Diet and Lodging. Here he was safe and quiet, had his anxious Thoughts permitted him any Repose. A Fortnight pass'd, and he paid the poor Woman very punctually. She began to conceive a very great Opinion of Mr.
Conyers,
as his whole Deportment was very regular and decent. His Mind now grew somewhat more calm, and his Sleep was less disturb'd, for he most sincerely repented of his Folly and Wickedness, and with great Fervency and Devotion, confess'd his manifold Transgressions, and humbly pray'd for
Mercy
and
Forgiveness.
HIS Purse was extremely low. He had Thoughts of applying to some People he knew, but durst not venture to
London;
and his Landlady was so poor, she could not afford to give him Credit.—He almost determin'd to break his Promise to Mr.
Johnston,
and write to
Lord Truegood,
or Mr.
Kindly;
but as he knew not what Apology to make for deferring it so long, or how to account for his Conduct, he was obliged to lay the Thought aside, at least for the present.—He frequently wept most bitterly, and bewail'd his wretched Condition. The Agitation of his Mind affected his Health, and threw him into a dangerous Fever. The poor Woman was extremely tender and careful of him, but his
Soul
wanting as salutary Remedies as his
Body,
he begg'd that a Clergyman might be sent for; and
Doctor St. Amour,
Minister of the Parish, attended on the first Notice. This Gentleman was one of those who reproach many of his Profession, for he was
pious
without
Moroseness,
and
charitable
without
Ostentation. Jack,
tho' extremely weak, politely thank'd the Doctor for his Condescension in visiting so
poor,
so
wretched,
so
miserable
a Being. — The good Man, with an easy Countenance, reply'd.—
If your Situation, Sir, is so bad, I think you require, and have a natural Right to my more
immediate
and
particular Attention.
THE Doctor pray'd by him in the true Spirit of Devotion. His Exhortations were so fill'd with Christian Eloquence, as warm'd and chear'd the Heart of
Conyers,
and insensibly lighten'd his Burthens.— The Fever still continued, and the Doctor never fail'd his Morning and Evening Visits.—
Jack
was so charm'd, that he open'd his whole Soul to this good Man, and hid not the minutest Part of all his Affairs since his Return from
France.
—The Gentleman flatter'd not his
Sins,
neither did he attempt to affright him with the dismal Prospect of
endless Misery.
He skilfully probed and cleansed his
Wounds,
and then pour'd in the Balsam of
Peace, Comfort,
and Hopes of Pardon by
Repentance,
and a Newness of Life.—Had Mr.
Dryden
been acquainted with
one Man
of Dr.
St. Amour
's Character, I apprehend he would not have said, that
Religion
and
Roguery go together.
IN one of these Conversations,
Jack
took an Opportunity of mentioning the Promise he made to Mr.
Kindly
when he gave him the small Box, as spoken of in a former Chapter. —
I am now, Sir,
said he,
so poor, so indigent, that I think I may safely open the Present; but I am so feeble, that I must beg your Assistance.
The
Doctor
found the Box in the Trunk, and open'd it by the Bed-side.—He pull'd out a Quantity of Straw, and, at last, a Sheet of Paper which he read, and contained these Words.
My Dear Jack,
Bounty Hall,
1732.
IF you have kept your Promise with regard to this Box, you must certainly be miserable when you read this. I have a sincere and most affectionate Regard for you, and weep at the Situation I must suppose you are in.
Should the Will of the Almighty afflict you with Sickness or Misfortunes, patiently resign yourself into his Hands, who alone knows your Necessities, and who
suffers not a Sparrow to fall to the Ground without his Orders.
Wait his good Time without repining, and firmly rely on his Bounty.
But, should your Calamities spring from Wickedness, Folly, and Extravagance. Oh my Child! turn to the Father of Mercies, and with a pure and upright Heart confess your Crimes; repent of your Faults, read his Word, and practise his Divine Precept. You will then know the Blessing of Righteousness, the Joys of Virtue, and the real Felicity of conscious Innocence. But, be not good only for a Time; Beware of relapsing into mistaken Pleasures. Ruin and Reprobacy will follow, and Soul and Body be at Stake.
Oh Jack! If your Heart be not harden'd in Iniquity: If any Spark remains of a virtuous Education: If Gratitude be not dead in your Breast, think, ere it is too late. Think on your own Happiness, and think on your assured Friend,
JOHN KINDLY.
POSTSCRIPT.
Under this Paper you will find a Proof of my Love.
AS the Doctor read,
Jack
wept. The good Man could not avoid sympathizing, and with streaming Eyes, pursued the Directions of the Postscript; but when he open'd a Paper nicely roll'd, and threw
Twenty Guineas
on the Table, poor
Jack
attempted to speak, but his Tongue faultering, he fainted on his Pillow. With some Difficulty he recover'd, and a violent Fit of Crying ensu'd.—
Yes,
cry'd he,
I will obey my
Father,
my
Friend,
and my
Guardian Angel!
Oh Sir! What has not this most worthy Man done for me! — He
saved
me when an
Infant,
and
preserves
me when a
Man.
Good God! Can I be ungrateful to his Hopes?—Can I disregard his charitable Instructions?— No! If Heaven prolongs my Days, they shall be employ'd in
Virtue
and
Honour.'
Your Resolution,
said Dr. St. Amour,
is truly just, and I pray God to keep you firm in it, but this present Mark of his Bounty, is not the only one you have lately received.—His Providence has preserv'd you from the shameful, infamous
Death
that your
Hounslow
Companions suffer'd last Week. I have enquir'd particularly into that Affair, and find you have nothing to dread. A third Person was indeed spoken of at the Tryal, but the Name of
Constant
or
Conyers
was never mention'd. Let this suffice to ease your Mind.—Follow Mr.
Kindly
's Advice, and be happy!
WHEN alone, he shudder'd and wept at the Fate of
Smart
and
Brazen.
He reflected on the dreadful Consequences of lawless Pursuits. He traced back his own Life and wicked Conduct, and found, that
one Vice
generates another; that as they grow in Strength; they corrupt the Heart by Degrees, until the
whole Man
is swallow'd up in Debauchery, and his Name and
Nature
eraz'd out of the Volume of the World. —
How fatal,
continued he,
is the Beginning of Evil! and who can foresee the End?—We go on from Step to Step regardless of Danger.
We walk on Fire cover'd with Ashes.
No Thought, no Prudence guides. We dream of
Pleasure
and
Delight,
but, too often, awake in the Gulph of
Sorrow
and
Perdition!
— How few, like me, have prov'd an almost miraculous Escape, and what Thanks, what
Gratitude
do I not owe for my Deliverance!
—His Reflections were very just and moving, and he promis'd to himself an entire Change of Conduct.
HIS Spirits began to revive, and in a few Days the Fever left him. He thank'd the Apothecary, and desir'd his Bill, but the good
Doctor St. Amour
had been beforehand with him. So generous was this Gentleman, that he would not permit him to mention that, or any other Obligation he lay under.—
All I now want,
said the Doctor,
is to see you quite recovered, and then we shall think of somewhat for your Service.
— In a Week he was perfectly well, tho' a little Pale, and when neatly dress'd, the
Doctor
was surpris'd at his comely Appearance.—At last he propos'd an Employment to
Jack,
which, he said, he knew he could discharge extremely well. —
Sir John Curious, continued he,
wants a young Man, like you, to read to him, and keep his private Accounts. I have satisfied him as to your Abilities, and he is willing to give you
thirty Pounds
a Year. He is very old, rich and gouty, and sometimes peevish, but a Man must bear with the Infirmities of Superiors.
He then proceeded in a very useful Lecture on a moral and political Conduct.—
Conyers
return'd him many Acknowledgements, and in two Days he took a grateful Adieu of the good Widow, and fix'd in
London
with the Family of
Sir John Curious.
CHAP. VII.
You cannot
Love,
nor
Pleasure
take or give;
But Life begin, when 'tis too late to live:
On a tir'd Courser you pursue Delight;
Let slip your Morning, and set out at Night.
DRYDEN.
NEVER Man began an Employment with more Pleasure. He seem'd as if return'd again into Life, and was determin'd to spare no Pains in enjoying it.— His first Care was a particular Attention to his Duty, and his next was to find out the Family Oeconomy, that he might adapt himself to their different Tempers.
SIR JOHN CURIOUS was Sixty-seven Years of Age, very corpulent, and extremely infirm. When his Gout was not violent, he din'd with his Company, and was very chearful. From Seven to Nine at Night,
Jack
read to him; at Ten he went to Bed, but never rose till about Eleven next Morning. Two Servants attended him, and about One o'Clock, all his Flannels were remov'd, and in an old embroider'd Coat and great Wig, he sat in his Arm-Chair, and
Jack
did the Duty of his Office till Three o'Clock.—He did SIR ROBERT WALPOLE the Honour of being his Enemy, and look'd on the
Craftsman,
equal, if not superior to
Holy Writ,
consequently these Papers were every Moment quoted. In this Choice of Books he had great Judgment, and to shew it fully, he delighted in the Works of TAYLOR the
Water Poet;
in an old and only Translation of DUBARTUS; in huge Folios of
Heraldry;
and when inclin'd to Sleep, in the modern Pamphlets and weekly Papers.
HIS House-Steward had a good Salary, and a certain Quarterly Sum for providing all Things for the Family. This Sum was accounted for, but could not be exceeded. To examine, and checque these Accounts, was part of
Jack
's Duty.
SIR JOHN had always maintain'd the Character of
A fine Gentleman.
His Dress was gay, and his Manner such, that supported the Dignity he assum'd. It was a Question, whether
Pride
or
Avarice
had the Superiority in his Constitution, but it is certain, they frequently acted in concert.
Pride
obliged him to a Punctuality in paying his Debts, but
Avarice
prevented his going a Step beyond it.—
Pride
made him extremely
Courteous, Complaisant
and
Ceremonious,
because he lov'd to be so treated himself, but
Avarice
stopp'd his Ears against the Cries of the
Poor,
expell'd every Sentiment of Charity and Benevolence, and contracted and abridg'd some of his
Vices,
even when he had the Power of being
Vicious.
In a Word,
Sir John
had a
Negative Character,
and acquir'd the Title of
a good Sort of Man;
that is, his Vices were not
many,
but he had not a
single Virtue.
HE had seen enough of
one
Part of the World to convince him that there was no such Thing as a
modest Woman.
This happy Imagination kept him a Batchelor, till, at the Age of Sixty-three,
Love,
or some other
Monosyllable,
stumbled into his Head. —The Charms of
Miss Bridoon,
his Sadler's Daughter, made him so generous as to propose a Marriage and relinquish a Fortune. Whilst this Treaty was on Foot, his Relations interpos'd, and some of his most intimate Friends spoke pretty freely about it. They said,
It was highly prudent in him to marry, but begg'd he would consider his Age and the Infirmities growing on him. That a Girl of
Eighteen
was quite out of the Rule of Proportion. That a
Mechanick's
Daughter was unworthy his
Rank
and Fortune, and an
Indignity
to his Family. That no one could answer for the Conduct of a young Girl, especially one of low Education, and begg'd him to turn his Eyes on some Lady, whose
Years
would Guarantee her Virtue, and make him happy in a faithful Companion.
OONS, cry'd the
Knight,
what the Plague would you be at? I tell you, my Age is no Impediment, for I find myself as vigorous as at Twenty. If Children,
not my own,
inherit my
Name
and
Estate,
is it not the Practice of every Day? Is it not much better than the Heathen Scheme of Adoption?—The Honour of my Family, which my
virtuous Sister
makes such a Noise about, is a Farce, and I suppose she thought so, when she ran away with my Father's Footman. Does she imagine, that the Son of such a Scoundrel shall enjoy my Fortune?— Then as to a
virtuous Wife,
I know the World too well to expect such a one, but I likewise know, that I had rather have
a Part
in a
young Wench,
than the
Whole
of any
old Woman
breathing.
—In short,
Sir John
was resolute, or rather, positive.
Miss Bridoon
was advanc'd to his Bed, and
Consummatum est, rang through the Parish.
LADY CURIOUS was extremely pretty. Her Eyes spoke, and her great Vivacity and Sprightliness had attractive Qualities. —An House magnificently furnish'd.—A Number of Servants, with Coach, Chariot,
&c.
were so infinitely beyond her Hopes, that her little Head began to turn. Her Constitution and Soil were so good, that the seeds of Example grew up surprizingly fast, and afforded a plentiful Crop of the most
fashionable Follies.
In a short Time, she had contracted a Variety of Acquaintance, and vastly improv'd in modern Politeness.—
Plays, Operas
and
Visits,
went a constant Round, and
Drums, Routs
and
Assemblies
employ'd her Time, at Home and Abroad. She had a Passion for
Play,
and play'd
very deep.
Here, indeed, her low Birth was conspicuous, for, not being educated from her Childhood, like
other Ladies
of Quality, in the true Principles of
Gaming,
she made but a small Progress in that Science, and play'd
so ill,
and lost
so much Money,
that her charming Company was greatly courted and admir'd.
SIR JOHN was very indifferent about these Matters. He allow'd her
two hundred Pounds
a Year as Pin-Money, but was so rigid and exact, that no Art, nor all her
Ladyship's
Contrivances, could extract a Shilling more. —
Conyers
knew of large Sums lost at Cards, and was surprized how her Ladyship could answer so many Demands; but at last he discover'd, that her
Play-Purse
was
inexhaustible.
—Notwithstanding the Multitude of Affairs, and the Variety of Employments on her Hands, she found a Time to present to
Sir John
a Brace of
fine Boys.
Her Ladyship was
Happy,
the old Knight was
Content,
and Family Affairs went on with great Harmony.
IN about three Months
Conyers
pick'd out this Information from the Steward, and Mrs.
Sieve,
her Ladyship's Woman. This last threw in some
Nods, Winks,
and
Innuendos,
but the Honour of her Lady was always sacred. Mrs.
Sieve
conceived a good Opinion of
Jack,
and on many Occasions gave him Proofs of her Esteem.— He had felt the fatal Effects of such Friendship, and was determin'd to avoid every Temptation.—He shunn'd her Presence as much as possible, and even slighted her Favours.—His Conduct was such an Affront to her
Pride
and
Beauty,
that she shifted Sides, and became an implacable Enemy.
THIS kind Creature had laid many Schemes to prepossess her Lady against
Jack.
She insinuated, that his Impudence had not only dar'd to make Attempts on her
Virtue,
but had even mutter'd Reflections on her Ladyship. — Fir'd at his Insolence, my Lady determin'd to have him immediately kicked out, but the artful
Sieve
begg'd of her Ladyship not to
disparage
herself so much as to speak of such an Affair, but to
worm the the Fellow out by Degrees.
THE Resolution being taken, my Lady never ceased teizing
Sir John
till he grew peevish.—Mrs.
Sieve
affronted
Jack
openly, and the
Steward
treated him with great Impertinence.
Conyers
found a very visible Change in the Countenances of the whole Family, and was made very uneasy in his Duty, but knew not what to ascribe it to. —One Evening,
Sir John
used him a little harshly, but the Humility of
Jack
spoke much in his Favour, and oblig'd the
Knight,
with some good Humour, to ask him,
What he had done to my Lady and her Woman?
— I protest, Sir, said
Jack,
I have done nothing. —
Nothing!
cry'd Sir John,
Nay then I know your Crime; you can never be forgiven.—Oons! a
Handsome
Fellow of your Age in such a Family as this, and do
Nothing!
— Thou art a silly Blockhead, and I am sorry for it, but,
Travel
you must; however, I'm determin'd you shall stay till I get you another
Service,
and have one in your Place.
JACK had been so accustom'd to Disappointments, that he bore this with great Temper and Resignation. He inform'd his Friend
Dr. St. Amour
of this Revolution, and told him what was the Occasion of it, which he had learn'd from the House-Maid. The good Man lifted up his Eyes, begg'd of him to have Patience, and promis'd to look out for a more agreeable Employment.
SOME Days after,
Conyers
was busy with
Sir John
when Mr.
Sampson
enter'd. The
Knight
had a great Regard for this Gentleman, and was extremely Civil to him.
Well, Friend
Sampson, said he,
Time was, when we us'd to meet oftner, but this plaguy Gout makes me perform a tedious Quarentine you see.'—'Ah,
Sir John, reply'd
Mr.
Sampson,
you are at Anchor in a safe Harbour, but I have all your Ailments, and am buffetted about in stormy Winds. — 'Not so, not so,
answer'd the Knight,
I hope my old Friend and Acquaintance is in no Danger of Shipwreck.—No Misfortunes I hope.'— None, said Mr.
Sampson,
but what my Temper can bear.—I have lost my only Child, just such a Youth as that,
(pointing to Jack.)
I have lost the best Part of my Substance by the War, and I have found
old Age
and
Infirmities.
—But, is it not just, I should resign with Patience what I enjoy'd and held but at the Will of the Donor?
MR. SAMPSON, said
Sir John,
you were always a Philosopher, but I am really concern'd at your Misfortunes. Perhaps some Money, at this Time, may have its Use, and I wish it was in my Power to assist you, but, really my Family is so expensive, that I am quite poor at present. I wish I had seen you last Week, for, 'tis but two Days ago since I parted with all my ready Money on a Mortgage.—Truly I am angry at your not acquainting me with your Distresses—Indeed I am — and you know the Pleasure I take in assisting my worthy Friends.'—'You are extremely good,
reply'd
Mr.
Sampson,
but, thank God, I am in no want. When my
Debts
are collected, which are very numerous, I shall have more than sufficient to maintain my dear Wife and I, in a comfortable Manner. Indeed I am ill able to attend my Friends, and much want an honest
young Fellow
to assist me.'—'I believe,
said Sir John,
I am pretty deep in your Books. — The last Christening consum'd a deal of Wine; but if you have the Bill, I shall see and discharge it.
— Mr.
Sampson
thank'd the
Knight,
and receiv'd one hundred and forty Pounds, for which
Jack
drew a Receipt for him to sign. —
I protest, Sir,
said the Merchant,
your young Man writes a charming Hand, and I dare say understands Accounts.'— That he does,
answer'd Sir John,
and extremely well. He is
honest, sober,
and
diligent,
and I heartily wish you had his Equal. What will you give me, Mr.
Sampson,
if I assign him over to you, provided he consents?—I shall give you,
answer'd the other,
my sincere Thanks, and the young Man the best Usage in my Power.'—'In two Words,
reply'd the Knight,
I know of no Fault he has, but being
too virtuous
and
modest
for my good Family. My Lady's Maid has set my Lady against him. I know their Tricks, but I don't mind them.
SOME Questions pass'd, and in less than half an Hour the Affair was concluded on. —
Jack
received fifteen Pounds for six Months Wages, and wishing Sir
John
all Happiness, once more shifted his Station.
CHAP. VIII.
A genealogical Table, true or false, of illustrious Ancestors: a large Estate: a numerous Equipage, and considerable Employments, are what we generally call Noble. But Virtue judges in a different Manner. She takes the Great from amidst the Grandour which surrounds him: Undresses him of the Vanity that disguises him, and rates the Value of the
Man
by the
Man
himself. Under the Appearance of Nobility she may find a
Fool,
a
Villain,
or a
Coward;
and in a Plebeian Obscurity discover
real Greatness
and
Probity of Manners.
As
right Reason
is of all Countries, the
Wise
in all Ages have spoken on this Subject in one uniform, constant Manner.
SANADON'S Note on 6th S. of 1st B. of
Horace.
OUR
Hero
is now brought to that Time of Life, when
Sense
and
Judgment
are to be expected, or never. He has been
happy.
—He has been in
Trouble.
— He has been (for him)
rich.
—He has been
poor,
and in the utmost
Affliction.
These are the
Pages
of the
Book of Nature,
and those who read them not carefully, must have very imperfect Ideas of the System of the Universe.
HE was once more happy. He had a Pleasure from the Countenance of Mr.
Sampson,
which was open and free, with every Indication of an honest and tender Heart. Mrs.
Sampson
could not refrain a few Tears at the Sight of
Conyers,
for it happen'd that he much resembled her deceased Son. She view'd him with Pleasure, but it was mix'd with Anxiety. She regarded him as a
Child,
and he respected her as a
Parent.
IN his Employment he was extremely assiduous and careful, and went on very successfully in collecting Mr.
Sampson
's Debts, and settling his Accounts. The good Man was happy; for
Conyers,
as much as possible, made all Things easy to him. In a short Time he acquir'd their Favour and Confidence, and was perfectly familiar.—The
Boy,
the
very young Man
was quite over. His Thoughts were serious, but he acted with Vigour. His Deportment was decent, and his Conversation chearful and agreeable. His
Duty
was his
Pleasure,
and the Love and Respect of the Family was his Reward, which they
could not avoid shewing before all their Friends.
MRS.
Sampson
and her Sister had been Coheiresses, and had each an Estate in *******, of about
Five hundred Pounds
a Year. The Sister had been married to Mr.
Gold,
a
Turkey
Merchant, who died about four Years since, and added
Fifteen thousand Pounds
to her Fortune. Mrs.
Gold
was near Thirty-seven Years of Age, of a noble Presence, with great
good Nature
and
Prudence.
She continued a Widow in Spite of many Sollicitations, and so affectionately lov'd her Sister, that she remov'd her Habitation to be nearer to her. When Mr.
Sampson
was in Distress with his Creditors, Mrs.
Gold
advanc'd him
Six thousand Pounds
on his and her Sister's Security.
THE Sisters were almost constantly with each other, and
Conyers
was always of the Party.—Mrs.
Gold
had
read,
and had an excellent Understanding. Mrs.
Sampson
was a chearful and agreeable Companion. — Her Husband had solid Sense, and great good Humour; and
Conyers
enliven'd the Conversation by a thousand pleasant Circumstances, but with such natural Elegance and Beauty, that greatly pleas'd, improv'd and diverted.
SOMETIMES their Entertainment was of a serious Nature, and fell on the Follies of the World; — The mad
Extravagance
of some, and the equally mad
Penury
of others.—On
Justice, Virtue, Charity,
and the like. — Mrs.
Gold
spoke on these Heads with great Strength of Reason, and Mr.
Conyers
enforced her Arguments by sundry historical Passages, and by Accidents to which he had been Witness. He was a Master of the Subject, and, at different Times, went through the
moral
and
social Duties,
with such Spirit and Force, that they were charm'd with his Knowledge, and edified by his Words.
HAPPY would it be,
said Mrs. Gold,
if all Mankind thought like Mr.
Conyers.'
— And still more so,
reply'd her Sister,
if they
acted
like him, for I verily believe he practises his own Doctrine.'—'Madam,
answer'd Conyers,
I am extremely happy in your good Opinion; but permit me to say, tho' I endeavour, and I hope, do my Duty as I ought, yet I have greatly err'd. I have been
idle;
I have been
extravagant,
and, I speak it to my Shame, I have been
vicious;
but the Goodness of this Family strengthens my Resolution, and confirms me in my honest Purposes of Amendment.'—'If,
reply'd Mrs. Gold,
you have been criminal, your Confession and Repentance encreases your Worth.'—'Who has not been criminal?
said Mr. Sampson.
— To commit a Fault is bad, but to persevere is
infamous.
For aught I know,
Vice
has its Use, as it sets off and heightens the Beauties of
Virtue
to such a Degree, that
Common Sense,
and even
Ignorance,
must be charm'd with it.—'Mr.
Conyers, said Mrs. Gold,
has one Virtue which I wish was a little more general. Tho' he has been so good, agreeably to entertain us with
Persons
and
Things,
yet has he never dropp'd an harsh Expression against
Particulars,
nor has he given Matters an ill natur'd Construction.
SCANDAL, Madam,
said Conyers,
let it inhabit where it will, is a
mean
and
vulgar Vice.
It is a
poor
and
vile
Attempt to raise our own Reputation on the Ruins of another. When some condemn the Actions of a Man, and paint his Conduct in odious Colours, do they not at the same Time modestly intimate, that
They are incapable of such Errors?— Pride
speaks; not their Pity. To compassionate the
Frailties
and
Weaknesses
of a
Man,
is the
Duty
of a
Man.
It is his Office to set him Right by Tenderness and Humanity, and not by Reproach and Slander to lead him more astray. Should he continue in his Folly, the wisest Maxim is, to commiserate his Infirmities, and avoid an Imitation.
SOME Evenings they pass'd their Time at Cards, and sometimes the Ladies went to a Play, attended by
Conyers.
This gave Rise to a Variety of pleasant Chat, where
Jack
shew'd his Memory and good Taste, but it was a considerable Time before they discover'd he had an excellent Voice. Mrs.
Gold
was fond of Musick, and he humming a favourite Air,—
Bless me,
said she,
I protest you have it quite perfect,—we must insist on your Singing it out.
—He made a few Apologies but obey'd.—This was what the Family did not expect, and increased their Surprize and Pleasure.—By degrees he shew'd his Skill in the
French
Language, — that he was no Stranger to
Latin
and
Greek,
and that he understood
Dancing, Fencing
and
Horsemanship.
In a Word, he shew'd them what a Gentleman
ought
to be.
THE Behaviour of
Conyers
puzzled Mrs.
Gold.
—She could not conceive how a Man in his Station could acquire so many
genteel Accomplishments.
She thought there was a Mystery in it, and when she had just determin'd to find it out,
Lord bless me,
said she,
why should I trouble myself about what is not my Concern?
At that Instant she felt a prodigious Flushing in her Face, and some Sensations she had not been lately accustom'd to. She began to suspect the Cause, and with great Caution, sat down to examine her
Heart,
and
reason
with herself, — that is — to find out Reasons to correspond with her Inclinations. The Truth is, she discover'd so many, that
Interest
and the
Pride of Family,
were fairly routed, and
Prudence
and
Esteem
got the better. She would not call it
Love,
as she thought it a too sensual Term for one of her Years. She own'd she regarded the
Virtues
and
Qualifications
of Mr.
Conyers,
but the
Comeliness
of his Person was merely accidental, and quite out of the Question. However, that Contingent and his
Youth
had certainly
some
Weight.
BE this as it will, her Resolution was taken, but determin'd not to proceed too rashly. On a certain Day, when she knew her Sister would not stir out, she wrote her a Card, and begg'd Mr.
Conyers
might be sent to take care of her to the Play, where she was engaged with some Company.
Jack
dress'd himself properly, and waited on Mrs.
Gold.
He had no Schemes in View, so his Actions were
Free,
and without Reserve. He had a great Regard for the Widow, which made him fond of every Opportunity of obliging her. Perhaps she had observed this, and gave it a flattering Construction. He found her most neatly dress'd, and, for the first Time, particularly remark'd her Charms.
I AM quite asham'd,
said she,
to give Mr.
Conyers
so much Trouble for nothing. Our Party is broke, but rather than miss the
Conscious Lovers,
I was determin'd to beg your Company alone, had not Mrs.
Talkative
and her
Daughter
sent Word, they'd drink Tea with me.
—
Conyers
said, he was sorry she was disappointed, but rejoiced at every Occasion that could shew his Readiness in obeying her Commands. A few Words pass'd, and he attempted to take his Leave, which she would not permit.
After all,
said she,
we can be as well at Home, and my Brother will not expect you till after the Play.
A Conversation then began on the Comedy, and many Remarks were made on the odd Situation of
Indiana,
and the noble Constancy of
Bevil.
A loud Rap at the Door spoke the Arrival of Mrs. and Miss
Talkative,
and stopp'd their Proceedings.
A NEW Field now open'd. In a short Time all the Tittle-tattle of the Parish was display'd. Lord, Mrs.
Gold, you surprise me.—Not hear of this before!
Not I indeed, Madam.
Dear Madam, I purtest I've forgot most of the Particlers, for the Story is four Days old.
Very strange indeed!
Why, my dear, they were actually caught, but Matrimony salves all.
This Sort of
rational
Entertainment lasted till Tea was produced, which a little eased the Thoughts of
Conyers.
He seem'd to bend his Eyes and Regard on Miss
Talkative,
who was very pretty, and had began a Sort of Conversation. Mrs.
Gold
observed it; which added not to her Repose. She was so absent, that her Tea-Cup slip'd from her Hand, and broke to Pieces, which broke off their Chat. Tea finish'd, she put on a grave Air, and the Ladies put on their
Capuchins,
to compleat their Evening Visits.
CONYERS, unwittingly, had like to have spoil'd all, but Mrs.
Gold's
hinting,
One must be civil to such Sort of People,
gave him an Opportunity of saying, He wonder'd of what Use they were in the World. The Daughter,
said he,
is pretty, but the eternal Clatter of her little Tongue will give some poor Man a great deal of Vexation.' 'And yet,
said Mrs. Gold,
her Fortune will get her a Husband. You Men are all alike, and, I dare say, you would snap at her in an Instant, if you could.' 'I shall not, said
Jack,
affirm or deny a Thing I have not thought about, for I neither know the Lady or her Fortune; but really, Madam, I think I ought to have been exempted in your general Censure. Were I capable of marrying merely for Money, the Situation I am in, and my Poverty, would excuse me to the World, but who would excuse me to my Conscience? Who would give me Joy of an Equipage, when compell'd to take
Pride, Affectation, Folly,
and
Non-sense
to my Arms? I may be ambitious, but, I assure you, Madam, poor as I am, I have not the least
Ambition
of being
miserable.
MRS. GOLD was not displeased at his Sentiments, and the Conversation turn'd on more diverting Subjects, tho' she, at last, very dextrously contrived to bring
Matrimony
once more on the Carpet.
I own my Surprize,
said she,
that a young Man of your Understanding has not found out
one Woman
capable of making you happy and easy. Such there are, but you are either too indolent or indifferent, or else your Heart is engaged to some distant Fair One. — Come, Mr.
Conyers,
be sincere, and indulge a Curiosity our Sex is subject to, and recite your Adventures, for I am apt to believe they must be somewhat extraordinary. — 'In Truth, Madam,
said Conyers,
they are not worth your Notice; but since you command, it is my Duty to obey.
HE then began a Narrative of his Life, and painted his Sufferings in a very moving Manner. He artfully avoided the Place of his Birth, or the least Hint of
Ireland,
as it might occasion Scandal. He carried her to the Weaver's in
Spittlefields;
conducted her to
France,
and brought her back to
London.
His
Amours
were very delicately handled, but his
Hounslow
Expedition was quite expunged. He dwelt long on Mr.
Kindly
's Instructions and Letter, and the Misery he was in in
Surry.
His
History
was long, and sometimes so affecting, that Mrs.
Gold
was obliged to make frequent Use of her Handkerchief.
She pity'd him because he was unfortunate,
and
he
began to
love her, because
he saw
she pity'd him.
—When he had ended, a profound Silence ensued.
SINCE,
said she, at last,
your Heart is free, perhaps I may assist in setting your Mind at Ease.— I thing I know a Lady who has
Power,
and Inclination equal to it. Will you give me Leave to try my Skill? Permit me, Madam,
said Jack,
to return my most humble Acknowledgements for your Goodness; but as you have required my Sincerity, I shall still continue it, and with that honest Freedom your good Sense will excuse. I have no Objections, Madam, to
Matrimony,
and have a certain
Constancy
in my Nature, that might make me a
good Husband;
but I cannot answer for my Temper, if I did not most affectionately
love my Wife.
To have that
Love,
I must know her, I must converse with her; I must first
admire
her Virtues, and
esteem
her Understanding. This, Madam, is not the Work of a Week, or a Month; and to marry otherwise, there is a Possibility of being
happy,
but the Chances are infinitely against me. True, I may be made
rich,
but an hundred to one I may be made
wretched.
YOUR Reasons,
said Mrs. Gold,
are very just; yet I believe you will allow there are some Exceptions, neither do I want any personal Compliment when I ask you, if a Woman of
Fortune,
and every-way
like me,
could please you?— Madam,—
said Jack,
—I—I—really know not how or what to answer.
She saw him confused, and added,—
I shall make it plainer. Suppose for Argument-Sake, I should have such a Notion in my Head, —Do you think you could truly and sincerely regard me?' Regard you, Madam,
reply'd Conyers,
— 'Yes, on my Soul, I should for ever
regard, love
and
adore
you! — But, dear Madam, why do you take Pleasure in tormenting so poor an Animal? — Why do you question me like a Prisoner on the Rack, and make me confess, what my Safety obliges me to hide?—'But I have done, and can scarcely hope your Pardon, for what I've already said.'—'Mr.
Conyers, said she, with a bashful Air,
I not only pardon, but shall endeavour to mitigate your Anxieties. I have seen and examin'd your Conduct; I have view'd your Actions; I have read your Heart, and, I think, have discover'd in you a Soul incapable of
Meanness or Falshood.
—Though you have no Fortune, I have often thought you deserv'd one. — I speak to your
Understanding,
and am not afraid of being censur'd by it. Let the
lucrative World
run after Wealth. It has pleas'd Heaven to indulge me with enough to make too
rational Creatures happy.
Should you be of the same Opinion, the little Share I can give, is freely at your Service.
SHE hung down her Head, and impatiently waited a Reply.—
Conyers
gaz'd— his Eyes were fix'd, and his Mouth could only seem to speak. At length he rose up, and throwing aside all Consideration, embrac'd Mrs.
Gold
in so tender, so ardent a Manner, that convinc'd her of his Sincerity, beyond the Utterance of a thousand Words, and vain Speeches.
Confess,
said she,
that I have acted like a Woman of
Courage,
by making the first Attack; I wish my
Prudence
be not more suspected.' Tho',
said Conyers,
the World will talk, yet, believe me, I shall give them such a Subject, that our
Love
and
Harmony
shall be rather
envy'd
than
imitated.
— Give me Leave to call you
my dearest Life,
and to assure you, without Vanity, that you entirely possess an Heart free from
Flattery, Art,
or
Deceit.
Oh! make me once more happy, and say you will be mine.' Mr.
Conyers, said she,
there is my Hand. My Heart you have already. But, no more. You have my Promise, and rely on it.' 'Dear Madam,
said Conyers,
let me not seem too impatient, by asking when?' 'Be satisfied,
said she,
it shall not be long, for I hope soon to bring my Brother and Sister into my Scheme; but I beg your Silence till then.
CONYERS promis'd to be directed by her; and Supper being serv'd, a different Conversation began. However it was once more renew'd, and many tender and affectionate Expressions, the Eloquence of undisguis'd Passion, were mutually given and receiv'd, till
Time,
with hasty Steps approach'd the Hour of Twelve.—With some Difficulty they parted.—He soon retir'd to
Bed,
but not to
Rest,
for Mrs.
Gold had murder'd Sleep.
'TWOULD be tedious to mention the Method she took to open this Affair to her Sister. She was her own Mistress, but still wanted a Sanction. No doubt the Reader will imagine the Surprize of the Family, and he must likewise imagine the many Arguments on both Sides, before Mrs.
Sampson,
and her Husband, consented, which at last they did. The Truth is, Mrs.
Gold,
like most of the World,
ask'd Advice,
but was determin'd to follow
her own.
There was no Necessity for a Settlement, but a small Writing was drawn in Favour of Children, on Failure of which, the
longest Liver
took all, except
Five thousand Pounds,
which each had a Power to bequeath by
Will.
THUS all Matters being adjusted, the Day was fix'd, and
Doctor St. Amour
acquainted with it, who provided a proper Place at
Putney,
where he met the Company. The good Man loaded
Jack
with Caresses and Compliments, and felicitated Mrs.
Gold
on her happy Choice.
I must, Madam,
said he,
admire, and shall for ever admire your Judgment and Understanding, that could discover
Virtue
and
Honour
under the Cloud of
Poverty;
dispel the
Mist,
and take it to your Arms.
—He made a very pathetick Discourse, but his
Conclusion
was infinitely pleasing to Mr.
Conyers,
and, perhaps, not less so to Mrs.
Gold,
for he join'd their Hands, and, ending
his Part
of the Ceremony, bless'd the
Happy Pair,
and left them to finish the
Remainder.
CHAP. IX.
Grant me the social Joys of Life
In easy, Converse, free from Strife;
Not wrangling for an empty Name,
But raising Virtue into Fame.
Not, with vile Breath, abuse the Great,
And prate, because
I dare to prate;
But,
hear Instruction,
or to
give,
And
Learn,
or
Teach,
each Day I live.
ANONIMOUS.
THE Generality of the World regard the Actions of Men, but according to the Event. A prosperous
Villain
may be internally despised, tho' his Wealth and Grandeur will be outwardly admir'd, and even envy'd.—
Praise
is sacrificed to poor and indigent
Virtue,
but every other Reward is too frequently neglected. The
wise Man
of Old tells us, That
Time and Chance happeneth unto all Men.
—When
Misfortunes
and
Calamities
attack us, the World is so good to
pity,
but at the same Time, impute the Unhappiness to a Want of
proper Conduct,
and to a Multitude of
Errors.
—When
Affluence
pours in, and
Plenty
surrounds us, they admire the
Judgment,
and applaud the
Understanding.
—Thus, the
Wretched
and
Miserable
tax
Providence
with Partiality, but the
Happy
and
Successful,
attribute all to their
own Prudence
and
superior Merit.
OUR Friend Mr.
Conyers
could not avoid some few Compliments to his
Person
and
Abilities,
as they were the Motives of his Advancement; but when he reflected on the Goodness of his
Wife
in noticing and rewarding them so amply, he discover'd, that they proceeded from a superior Cause, which, as it reach'd above his Comprehension, he could only wonder at, and, by
praising
the
Giver,
make Returns of
Love
and
Gratitude
to the
Instrument.
—By reasoning thus, and lowering his own Value as much as he heighten'd the Goodness of
Providence,
his Mind became more calm, and his Heart less liable to
Vanity.
He was not too elate, or puff'd up; for, by regarding his
Wife
more than her Fortune, the World was compell'd to believe he deserv'd both.— Never was Woman more happy than Mrs.
Conyers,
and never could a Husband take more Pains to oblige a Wife. ENVY saw this, but hid her Head.—MALICE, with squinting Eye, and jibing Tongue, look'd and spoke in
vain.
JEALOUSY and vile INSINUATION found their
Arrows
blunted, or sticking in the Shield of
right Understanding.
The Fabrick was so firmly fix'd on
Honour
and
Good Sense,
that the
Decay
of
Nature
could alone
sap
the
Foundation.
MR. CONYERS still assisted his Brother
Sampson,
and having got in most of his Debts, and settled all his Affairs, proposed, at the Request of his Wife, to retire to the Country. They agreed to live in a small Town near their Estate, and having provided every Houshold Necessary, and a good Collection of Books, they quitted the noisy City, for the
Peace, Tranquillity
and
Joys
of a Rural Life. He now found himself possess'd of above Twelve Hundred Pounds a Year, and, calling to his Memory the Conduct of Lord
Truegood,
resolved, as near as possible, to follow the Example of so
worthy
a Nobleman. Like a prudent General, he plann'd out his Operations; he collected his Forces, and assign'd to each Part a just Proportion. His Distribution was exact; but Mrs.
Conyers
changed it a little, by making him sensible, that his Scheme had not provided for Sickness, and many other Accidents they were liable to.
Let us, my Dear,
said she,
live as genteely as you please; But where is the absolute Necessity of spending our whole Income? My Advice is, to save at least
Three hundred Pounds
a Year, to answer Contingencies, and assist a worthy Friend on Occasion; neither do I see how we can well lay out the Remainder. My Life,
said Jack;
you are quite in the Right; then be it so: It is but striking out these two extraordinary
Horses, a Servant, one Dish
a Day, something from the
Wine,
and a little from the Allowance of
Cloaths
and pleasurable Expences, and the Affair is just as you desire.
THE Behaviour of this Family soon acquired the Esteem and Respect of the neighbouring Gentlemen and Ladies. Particular Friendships were form'd, and a charming Society enlivened every Amusement.—Some Gentlemen met twice a Week at the best Inn in the Town, to benefit the House, and keep up a proper Interest, and our Friend was soon invited to be of the Number. It will not be amiss to mention some of this good Company.
SIR
John Dobson,
and old
Colonel Manly,
were the principal. The
Knight
had been
Member
for the
County
in three Parliaments, as the
Colonel
had been for the
Town
for almost
Forty Years.
Mr.
Leatherhead,
Mr.
Ash, Doctor Grace,
who was Minister of the Parish, and Mr.
Conyers,
made six constant Companions. Our Ladies were happy with Mrs.
Grace
and Family, and with Miss
Lucy Manly
the Daughter of the Colonel, now a most amiable Girl of Seventeen Years of Age. Her Wit and Understanding, with her tender and compassionate Heart, made her the Joy of her Friends. No Wonder the Colonel was extremely fond, for she was the Child of his Age, and his only one. He spoke with Pleasure of the vast Fortune he intended to leave her, and often said, he almost envy'd the happy Man to whose Lot she fell.
WITH great Care and Attention have I examined the original
Memoirs
of this
History,
but unfortunately found not the least Hint of
Amours,
or, as it is called, the
Gallantry
of Mr.
Conyers,
during his Residence in the Country. This must certainly be a tedious Time to a Reader of
Genius,
who expects at every Page, a well or ill-contrived
Intrigue,
or somewhat wonderful or surprising to raise his Imagination, and keep up his Attention.—Tho' I cannot answer these
valuable Ends,
I cannot pass in Silence this Space, as my Materials are large, but must supply the Want of extraordinary Adventures in this seeming State of Inactivity, with the Substance of the most interesting Subjects, that made their Evenings pass
usefully
and
agreeably
away.
IN doing this I shall stick to my usual Brevity, and trespass as little as possible on the Patience of the Good-natur'd. I shall not summon them to every Assembly, but vary the Subject by an
Asterism,
(*) and avoid that Sort of
Connection
that might pin me down to
Form
and
Ceremonies.
* * *
IN our last Argument,
said
Mr.
Conyers,
Sir
John
gave us a long Dissertation on the
Liberty of the Press.
I think we all agreed to the Usefulness of it in general, and to the Danger of suppressing any Part; yet I cannot help thinking it a little hard, that a Person shall have it in his Power to make a Man
ridiculous
whenever he pleases to imagine he does Wrong. What are most of our
Pamphlets
and
News Papers
stuff'd with, but
Encomiums
on those
out of Place,
and scurrilous Reflections on those
in?
—Were we to shift the Scene, would not the new Ministry be
abused
like the former, and perhaps, by the same Writers? I do not pretend to be a Politician, but believe, many who do are just as ignorant as I am. Every Man who spells, may write
Satyr,
that is, may write
maliciously,
as it
requires little or no Genius; but to write with
Truth, Candour,
and
Impartiality,
to have
Judgment
sufficient to point out
real Errors,
but
Humanity
and Good-nature not to strike at
Persons
and
Characters,
is not given to every Man.
I GRANT you, said Sir
John,
some make an ill Use of Liberty, and leap beyond the Bounds; if they go too far, the Law is open, and to the Law we must leave them. 'Tis very true, said Mr.
Conyers,
but they have found out a jesuitical Way of evading even the best Law. Here are a Parcel of Pamphlets and News-Papers (which he threw on the Table) fill'd with
initial Letters, Dashes,
and
Stars.
Tho' we clearly see the Insolence and Treason, what Jury, as the Law now stands, can properly condemn the Author or Printer to lose his Ears?'— 'Well, well,
said
Sir
John,
no Matter, let them scribble on, provided they do not oblige me to believe all their Impertinence.'—Men of Sense, Sir
John, answer'd Conyers,
will always think in that Manner, but how many honest well-meaning Gentlemen suffer themselves to be imposed on, merely for Want of due Attention. Perhaps some must write thus, or starve. In that Case, I sincerely pity them, yet I hope Mankind have not such vitiated Tastes, as to be delighted only with
Scandal.
Would a
Writer
fix on a Plan of
Instruction.
—Would he inculcate the
Fear of God,
and
Honour to the King
— Would he endeavour to make us better
Parents,
better
Children,
and better
Friends
to
Society
—Would he employ his
Time
and
Learning
to persuade us to
Unanimity,
and not
Discord
and
Confusion.
Who amongst us—what honest Man, but would
praise
and
applaud
him? But to write from Principles of
Envy
and
Ill-nature,
and to sow those pestilent Seeds in the Minds of the Unwary, is certainly a Conduct that even Vice will condemn. To him who writes fluently and well, but with such Intentions, I shall only say what a noble Lord did of the
Earl of Stafford, That God had given him Talents, but the Devil the Application.
WERE it possible,
said the Doctor,
to restrain
the Liberty of the Press
without endangering the
Liberty of the People,
I am convinced we should be much happier and much more free from
Squabbles
and idle
Disputes;
but the Experiment is of too tender and delicate a Nature, to wish seeing it attempted, tho' I verily believe
News-Writers
and
Pamphleteers
are the Collectors of the fifth great Tax in the Kingdom.
* * *
—WHATEVER the
Equity
may be, said Sir
John,
I hope never to see a new Valuation for a Land-Tax. Our Acres are pretty well charged already, so let them look elsewhere, if they want to raise more Money.—Yet,
reply'd
Mr.
Conyers,
all Taxes must at last center on Land.' I must beg Leave,
reply'd the Doctor,
to differ from you.— For Example: Suppose that a Duty was laid on the Exportation of our
Nobility
and
Gentry,
according to their Titles. How could such a Tax affect the Land?'— They travel for
Health
or
Pleasure,
and I think ought to pay
Fifty
or an
Hundred Pounds
to their own Country, for Permission to spend the Remainder of their Fortunes in another. Upon my Word,
said Squire Ash,
a very notable and reasonable Scheme! Then,
continued the Doctor,
if every Man, who accepted an Employment of
One hundred Pounds
a Year, was obliged to pay a
Year's Salary
to the State, and a proportionable Tax on the Commissioners of Land and Sea-Officers, would it not raise a large Sum, and how would it affect our Lands?— In
Holland
they have what is called a
Collateral Tax,
that is, the Inheriter of a Fortune in Land or Money, not descending to him in a
direct Line,
pays 2 ½
per Cent.
to the State. When they sell Lands or Tenements, the Seller and Purchaser pay two or three
per Cent.
of the Value to the Government.—Thus, Gentlemen, it is plain, there are many Ways of raising Money, where Taxes, so far from raising our
Manufactures,
might be so managed, as to go infinitely cheaper to Foreign Markets.
I ASSURE you,
cried Colonel Manly,
I never thought my Friend Doctor
Grace,
had so calculating an Head, and I dare say, were the Ministry acquainted with his Genius, he would soon have Lawn Sleeves. I am so pleased with his Money Projects, that I must add
one,
which I wonder he forgot. For Example: Suppose all the Livings of the
Clergy
of
England
were to be new valued, and the Clergy who succeed, after a certain Day, were obliged to pay to the Government one Year of that Valuation by four equal Payments in four Years. Would not this likewise make a large Fund? And how would it affect our Lands? Permit me to explain my Scheme by Figures.
'Doctor
Grace
has Church-Preferments to above 500
l.
a Year. I shall only charge
450
l.
Out of this I shall deduct, 'Full Land Tax at 4
s.
90
'Two Curates — at most
60
'Remainder clear to the Doctor, besides Marriage, Christening, and Burial Fees,
300
 
l.
450
Now, I would value these Livings but at Two Hundred Pounds a Year in the
King's New Books,
and where would be the mighty Injustice to oblige his Successor to pay that Sum in four Years? And how would it affect our Lands?' Were this Chamber,
reply'd the Doctor,
a Chamber of Parliament, I should vastly disappoint the Colonel, by heartily concurring in such a Scheme, properly regulated, but I should certainly Vote for exempting the poor Clergy. Agreed,
said the Colonel,
so let it be resolved, that no
Clergyman
shall be liable to this
New Duty,
who has not
One Hundred Pounds
a Year clear of all Deductions.' 'Raillery apart, said Mr.
Conyers,
I sincerely think, somewhat of this Nature ought to be done, and the
Clergy of France
have set us very good Examples. The Wisdom of Government is best seen in the just Partition of Taxes.
To charge them who are rich in this World,
is true Policy, and to ease the poor
Labourer,
is equal to it. To lessen the Tax on the Consumption of the
Poor,
is, in Fact, an Advantage to the
Rich,
as all Manufactures and Workmanship must lessen in Proportion.
THE Doctor mention'd, said Sir
John,
something of
poor Clergy.
I am really asham'd to see so many, in such a Country as
England,
who appear like Objects of Charity, and thought, that when QUEEN ANNE gave up her
first Fruits
to buy
Glebe
and
Impropriated Tythes,
they would all have comfortable Livings; but I am vastly disappointed, nor can I conceive why they are not in a better Situation.' 'All I know,
reply'd the Doctor,
is, that the Trustees for that useful Work have had the
first Fruits
and
Tenths
above Thirty Years. They have purchased many Glebes, and, I dare say, from their great Virtues and high Dignities, every Thing in their Power has been done for the
Good of the
CHURCH, If they have not added more to the Livings of
poor Clergy,
I must suppose they could get no more to purchase, or wanted a Fund.
FAR be it from me, said Mr.
Conyers,
to hint the least Reflection on the Honour or Integrity of Gentlemen in such eminent Stations, but from what the Doctor has said, and from what I have heard on this Subject, I must conclude, that there has been no
Misapplication
of Money. On the contrary, I am inform'd very little has been
apply'd.
If my Intelligence be true, a
Capital,
and the
Interest
of a Capital, has been suffer'd to
accumulate
to so
mighty
a
Sum,
that I am cautious to mention it. The Revenue is certainly large, and should the
Trustees
not have found out Purchases, I see no Reason but that
Twenty, Thirty,
or
Forty
Pounds in Money, should be given annually to many poor Clergymen, which, I humbly apprehend, would fully answer the Intent of the charitable Donor. Whether the
Trustees
have expended their
whole Fund,
or whether they are enabled to support
Twenty or Two Hundred
Clergymen, I cannot positively assert; but sure I am, that as the Wisdom of the
Legislature
would not be less manifested by a fair and honest Enquiry into it; so I am equally satisfied, that the
Integrity
and
Honour
of the
Trustees
would be thus clearly demonstrated, and malevolent and clamorous Tongues silenced.
* * *
TRULY, Sir
John, said the Doctor,
I am sorry Matters were carried so far Yesterday. We had warm Words, very warm Words. In the Name of Goodness, what had
They
or
We
to do in the Affair? If the
French
prevail over us, I am sorry for it, and pray God it may be otherwise. If we beat them, I rejoice and am thankful. But to argue, that some Things ought to have been
done,
and that others ought to have been
undone,
is certainly idle, for, I profess, I believe we know nothing of the Matter.' 'Right, Right, said Sir
John,
but you know my Rule is, never to contradict or dispute about what I do not understand, especially when I am convinc'd that my Antagonist is equally ignorant.
SUCH Disputants,
said the Colonel,
are the Plague of Society. The more they seem
Gentlemen,
the more Mischief they do, for, as they choose, and commonly herd but with People of inferior Capacities, they pass current for
vast Geniuses,
and are applauded for their mighty Understandings. I have often laugh'd to hear a Company of honest Citizens, fighting over the very Battles I had been in, and minutely mentioning a thousand Circumstances that never did or could have happen'd, and have endeavour'd, and sometimes with Success, to put my good Countrymen right. I remember when I was a young Man, and return'd from the Campaign of 1707, when the
Duke
of
Marlborough
did not fight the
French,
I stroll'd into a City Coffee-house, where a young pert
Soap-boiler
was most eloquently displaying his Talents, and diverting his Audience with the
Blunders
and
Misconduct
of the
Duke.
— I own I was foolish enough to be provok'd, and long'd to chastize his Insolence. At last, the young Man to illustrate his Subject, chalk'd out two Lines on the Table.— Now, Gentlemen,
said he,
here lay the
French,
—and here the Allied Army, with this trifling River between them.—Now, (still pointing with his Finger) why the Devil the
Duke
did not cross the River, and beat the
French
Scoundrels, is past my Comprehension." — 'He was proceeding, but I lost all Patience, for, stretching over my Cane, I gave his Fingers a pretty severe Rebuke.—He rose in Anger, and demanded a Reason, when I very coolly reply'd.—
It was only to convince him, that in passing a River, an Army might receive a Rap over the Knuckles.
The Laugh of the Company was on my Side, and the poor
Soap-Boiler
look'd mighty silly.
WHY there it is, said Sir
John,
an honest innocent Man can't speak his Mind freely, but up comes a
Red Coat,
and knocks him down. — The Colonel says, he was then young and foolish, but how many have we of the same Stamp, at this Day? — God help us! when we are to be govern'd, or, rather, controul'd by a Standing Army! — 'God help us, indeed,
reply'd the Colonel,
but for my Part, I promise you I will never live to see that Day.'—'That may be, answer'd 'Squire
Ash;
but really I can't help thinking, some People are making large Strides towards it, and where it may end, Heaven knows! —Is't not a plain Case, they want to make us a
military Government,
by raising such an
Army,
and employing
them
in a foolish War on the
Continent,
where, every
News Paper
will tell you, we have not the least Business? — If we must have a War, and be blooded by Taxes, let us, a God's Name, give the Queen of
Hungary
her Belly-full of Money, but let us spare the Blood of
Old England.
WELL said, Mr.
Ash,
reply'd Sir
John,
you speak my Sentiments, and, I believe the Sentiments of every honest Man in
Great Britain;
but I am afraid all this mighty
Hurry
and
Noise,
and Expence of
Blood
and
Treasure,
is more on Account of some
G— D—,
than any Good intended to
us.
If they mean a real Advantage to
England,
let them send forth her
Wooden Walls
and scour the
Ocean.
—We may do some Good there, and let
Europe
fight on the Continent to Eternity, provided we keep them out of our own natural Territories; nay, the more they quarrel and knock one another's Brains out
Abroad,
the better it is for us at Home. Read our Annals, Colonel. They were glorious Times, when our honest
Militia,
headed by
Country Gentlemen,
could step out and
beat the French
on their own Ground.' 'Pray, Sir,
said the Colonel,
what Business had these
Country Gentlemen
and gallant
Militia
in
France?
— 'Business!
reply'd Sir John,
—why, they went to
conquer
and keep the
French
at a Distance; and when they had conquer'd, to keep their Conquests. Had we not NORMANDY, AQUITAIN, ANJOU, and almost
Half of France?
Very true,
answer'd the Colonel,
and, as if it were done to shew us our Folly, a
Woman
drove this
mighty Militia
almost out of All.' 'Ay,
said
Mr.
Conyers,
and we were full as Glorious when we
burnt
this poor Woman for a
Witch.
Those,
said the Doctor,
were the Days of glorious Ignorance!' 'Had our Ancestors conquer'd Part of
France,
or had Provinces descended by
Right
to our
Kings,
they were mad to pretend to keep them for the Good of
England.
—Had they erected a
Kingdom
within that
Kingdom,
and given it an Head of Importance and Weight, they would have done wisely.' — 'Very well observ'd,
cry'd
Mr.
Conyers;
I fear the Church Militant will be too hard for Country Gentlemen.
I MUST beg your Patience,
said Colonel Manly,
for I have a few Words to offer, and hope I shall never be call'd on this Subject again.
THE Vicinity,
said he,
of
Great Britain
and
France,
and the Rivalship in
Glory
and
Trade,
will ever make them natural Enemies to each other. The Views of
France
are as unbounded as Ambition. Our's are more confin'd, and rather lead us to checque the exorbitant Power of others, than to increase our own.
WHEN LEWIS the XIVth made War on the
Dutch,
and gave his GLORY for the
Reason,
it was the Height of true Glory to resist and checque such an unchristian Scheme; but unhappily, our CHARLES
the Second
was his Pensioner.
WHEN this mighty
Lewis,
contrary to
Faith
and solemn Treaties, gave SPAIN to his
Grandson,
our Interest joined to frustrate the Project; but when
Charles
our
King
of
Spain
became Head of the
Empire,
our Interest opposed his being Master of
two
such Monarchies, tho', perhaps, our Policy was
unsound
to suffer
Spain
to fall to any Branch of the
House
of BOURBON.
IN the present War, when
France,
in Violation of the
most solemn
Engagements, and in the Midst of profound Peace, attack'd the
Empire;
— when she had made the QUEEN
of
HUNGARY a Fugitive, even to the Subjects she, or her Family, had oppressed the most;—when she had near overturned the
great Weight
that kept her
Ambition
from trampling on the
Neck
of
Europe,
our
Interest,
our
Happiness
and our
Honour
compell'd
us
to join against her.—If our
little Army
in
Flanders,
was not so successful as we wish'd, they were led on with a
noble Spirit,
they fought like themselves, and retired from
Numbers,
rather
fatigu'd
than
conquer'd.
— We now know the TRUTH. We now know the Value of HANOVERIAN Troops, tho'
Patriots,
or rather
Party,
deprived us of 15,000, and made
Lewis
Triumph. We know how near the
Few
of our small Army, who fought, were of Routing the whole Strength of the
Grand Monarch.
—We know our Troops
deserved,
tho' they had not
Victory.
—We now praise their
Valour,
but the
French
do more.—They
dread it.
IN the Name of GOD, How can our Government, or our
General
act? — If we had not sent Troops to
Flanders
to convince the World we were hearty in the Cause, and in some Measure, to persuade the
Dutch
into our Sentiments, what a Load of Scandal would have issued from the
Press.?
— If our
General
had
tamely
look'd on, and not attempted the Relief of TOURNAY, would not every scribling Fellow pour down from his Garret as much Abuse, as they now Honour him with for acting otherwise?—Oh! But we were repulsed at FONTENOY, and have lost
Flanders.
—What then?—If we argue from Consequences, we had best never
Begin,
because we can never
End.
— In
War,
as in
Law, Trade,
and every other human Project, it suffices, that the Motive of Action was founded in
Reason, Justice
and
Honour;
but as to the Consequences, we must submit to the Disposer of all Things.
KING WILLIAM and
Queen
ANNE'S Wars had the same Rise. Perhaps that
Glorious Monarch
deserved as much Praise in his
Defeats,
as the Great
Marlborough
received for his
Victories.
The
King
did not escape Calumny: —
Marlborough
had his Share;— was disgraced, and even exiled for Conquering!
LET us cast our Eyes round
Europe,
even in Times of Peace, and shall we not find them all arm'd, and greatly arm'd;— and shall we supinely rest content, and pay no Regard to our Safety? —Tho' some affect to call our Regiments
a Standing Army,
though the Whole is little more than a
French Grand Guard,
yet we dread from it the Loss of our
Liberty.
— Thank God! I have a good Estate, but were our Army double their Numbers, I would not sell my Land for a Shilling less. — All
Europe
think our
Property,
consequently our
Liberty,
quite secure; otherwise they would never trust their
Millions
in our Funds.—This is the
Touch-stone
of our
Credit
and
Character
Abroad.—This is the
Barometer
of the State.—Whilst our Officers are
Natives,
whilst they are Men of
Family
and
Fortune,
and have their Share in the
common Blessing,
I think I may positively pronounce our Liberty is safe.—Not to speak in too peremptory a Manner, I will allow, that an Army,
little
or
great,
is a very useless, nay a dangerous Thing, without
Experience
and the
strictest
Discipline; but God forbid they should ever acquire that Experience in their own Country!—Since
Experience
is absolutely necessary, where ought they learn it but Abroad?
IN our private Capacities we must keep our Honour and preserve our Reputation, even sometimes at the Hazard of our Lives; but who would not hazard more, if possible, when his
Property,
his
Family,
and every Thing dear to him, are trampled upon! — A
Nation,
in this, is as a private Man.—We ought to acquire
Reputation,
but be careful to
keep it.
—We must make ourselves
respected,
but, by good Conduct, preserve that
Dignity.
— We ought to love
Peace,
but by a constant Readiness for
War,
be able to maintain the
one
with Honour, or pursue the
other
with Justice and Glory.
A WORD more, and I have done. I know what Sir
John
means by
German Dominions.
Without entring into what, perhaps, none of us rightly understands, I really imagine that a
Monarch
has some small Title to the natural Liberty of other Men, and may be allowed the same natural Inclinations. I am asham'd this Argument is so often thrown out.— Could I divest myself of the Duty I owe him as my
Sovereign,
I should still respect and honour his
Justice
and
Valour,
were he but a private Gentleman. Let us not, my Friends, foolishly and wantonly condemn, but let us rather endeavour to make his Life
Happy
and
Content,
whilst Heaven is pleased to spare him to us. Let us, as free Subjects,
Love him,
and imitate those, over whom he is Absolute by the Laws, but over whose Hearts, his
Clemency
and
Uprightness
has established a more
absolute Sway.
SIR JOHN has given me the Text, but the Conclusion I must borrow from the Doctor.
— From what has been said, God grant us a right Understanding, and that we may think on, and practise it, in our Life and Conversation.
AMEN,
cry'd the Doctor,
with all my Heart. I think the Colonel has given us an excellent Discourse, and very much open'd my Eyes.'—'I must own,
said Sir John,
we are a little too
divided,
and make great Drawbacks on our real Happiness, yet, perhaps, this Sort of Conduct poises the Scale of
Liberty,
and prevents
Power and Ambition
destroying the
Equilibre.
* * *
MR. CONYERS examin'd the Plan of
France,
as laid down by Mr.
Villeneuf,
in which he made many Alterations, and the next Evening's Conversation happening to turn on the Subject of the last, —
I beg,
said he,
to be permitted to add a Postscript to the Colonel's Lecture, and to carry you to the Fountain-head of, what I imagine, the
Liberty of England.
WHOEVER,
continued he,
considers the Dominions of
France,
will imagine they ought not to think of enlarging their Boundaries beyond the
Pyranees,
the
Alps,
and the
Rhine,
as such Conquests would be rather expensive than serviceable.— Their Views, with regard to
Commerce,
have always been traversed by
England
and
Holland.
—The Forces they constantly keep up, prevent their being disturbed by their Neighbours on the Continent.— By the vast Sums they employ in Foreign Courts, besides their known Subsidies, they fortify themselves with the strongest Alliances.—As they have nothing to fear at Home, they have but
one Thing
to wish for Abroad, to accomplish all their Schemes.—Could the
Austrian Netherland
be annexed to
France,
the
grand Project
would execute itself.
For this essential Conquest
Treasures
must be hoarded, Troops must be maintain'd, and no Expence spared. When this
finishing Blow
can be once struck,
France
need not desire
Universal Monarchy.
—If she now maintains
three hundred thousand Men,
she will then content herself with a Quarter of that Number. —When Mistress of the
ten Provinces
of
Flanders,
the
Dutch
must act as she shall direct.—When assured no
War
can disturb her
Frontiers,
what
Vessels
will she not build!— How many Thousands will then be employ'd at
Sea!
and, who will she have to oppose her but
England?
— Their whole
Force
will then be center'd on the
Ocean.
— Cast your Eyes on the Map of
Europe.
—Will she not then have the whole Coast from
Ostend
to St.
Jean de Luz,
besides
That
in the
Mediterranean?
—She may then, without aiming at
Universal Monarchy,
guide, direct, and
give Laws
to every State in
Europe,
free from the Trouble of being
Sovereign
of it.—What would her Glory be, to have MONARCHS for her VASSALS!
IT is next to a mathematical Demonstration, that this is the favourite Project of
France.
LEWIS
the Fourteenth
attempted it, and became formidable at
Sea,
even to the United Fleets of
England
and
Holland,
Great and Mighty as they were!— In all human Probability,
Lewis
had seen the End of his Wishes, had not KING WILLIAM and QUEEN ANNE gloriously interposed and saved
Europe.
They cut him out such warm Work on the
Continent,
and obliged him so to waste the Blood and Treasure of his People, that his Sinews at last relaxed, his darling
Marine
was neglected, and his whole Force became little enough to
defend
the
Heart
of his
Kingdom.
IF what I have said be not critically the Views of
France,
they have certainly Schemes of some Affinity to it.—In the present War they practised another Method to arrive at the same End.—They attack'd the
Empire.
— Could they have cut off the
Head,
they knew the
Limbs
would fall of Course.
SUCH, Gentlemen, I apprehend, is the Fundamental Maxim of
France.
— To
traverse
and
frustrate
such a pernicious Project, Half our
Blood
and
Treasure
would be a cheap Purchase. — Our Annals are sanguin'd with the
Blood
of
Britons
slaughtered by
Brother Britains.
— They shew the horrid Devastation of
Civil War.
— They point out the bloody Fields in
England, Scotland
and
Ireland!
—Wherefore all this, but to establish and preserve us in that
Liberty
we so happily enjoy, but of which some make unworthy Use! — If we have
fought
with,
dethroned,
and put our own
Monarchs to Death,
for infringing on our
Liberties,
What should we not do to avoid
Servility
being imposed on us by
Foreign Tyranny?
ULTIMA RATIO REGUM is the Motto of
French
Cannon.—If
that
be the
last Argument
of the
Most Christian Monarch,
certainly it is our
Duty
and
Business,
as perfectly to understand
that Logick.
NOTHING is so dangerous as to contemn an Enemy, and nothing is so
idle
and
vain
as to despise and abuse the
French.
—On the contrary, we ought, and we have Reason, to dread their
Power,
— their
Situation,
and their
Politicks.
—If we mean to hand down to our
Posterity,
pure and undefiled, that
sacred Liberty
purchased by our Ancestors, let us rouze our
Spirits,
let us
unite,
and act like them!—But, if we mean to suffer that
holy Light
to be extinguish'd— to
perish
with
our own
frail Bodies, let us not only
disband
our trivial
Land,
but likewise our mighty
naval Forces;
for, except our
utmost Strength
be collected, and the Designs of
France
render'd abortive,
The
ONE
will be useless at Home, and,
I will venture to prophesy,
The
OTHER
will soon be over-match'd Abroad.
I SHALL conclude with the Words of
King William,
which ought to be engraven on the Hearts of every True
Englishman.' — "Let me conjure you,
said that Glorious Monarch,
to disappoint the only Hopes of our Enemies by your Unanimity. I have shewn, and will always shew, how desirous I am to be the Common Father of all my People; do you, in like Manner, lay aside Parties and Divisions; let there be no other Distinction heard of amongst us for the future, but of those who are for the
PROTESTANT RELIGION,
and the
PRESENT ESTABLISHMENT,
and of those who mean a
POPISH PRINCE,
and a
FRENCH GOVERNMENT.
IT is not easy to paint the serious Countenances of the Company. The
Colonel
lifted up his Eyes; Sir
John
and 'Squire
Ash
shook their Heads, the
Doctor
cry'd,
Lord have Mercy upon us!
but Mr.
Leatherhead
was so affected, that he let fall his Pipe, and seem'd to neglect his favourite Tankard.
* * *
THE Conversation was on various Subjects, and at last fell on the
Laws of England.
—The
Colonel
own'd they were wise and wholesome; but declar'd, that the vast
Delay
and
Chicanerie
of the Practitioners was the
greatest Burthen
a Nation could groan under.—
Speedy Justice,
said Mr. Conyers,
is the Spirit and Essence of
Laws
both Civil and Criminal. A
French
Author of Humour observes, "That the
English
are infinitely more tenacious of their
Properties
than their
Lives;
for,
says he, Life
or
Death
is generally decided in Twenty-four Hours; but
Property,
be it ever so trivial, may employ as many Years.
MR. CONYERS was proceeding on the Subject, when the
Terror of the Poor,
in the Shape of
John Clinch
the Constable, enter'd the Room. —
Please your Worships,
said he,
an't please you, there's
Moll Stevens
has gotten her Belly up, and so, an't please your Worships, as the Wench lays the Matter on
Paddy Murphy
the
Irish
Drawer below Stairs, I thoughten best to bring her before your Worships that she might swear it, for, please your Worships, that
Irish Dog
does a Power of Mischief in the Parish.' — 'Why, Friend,
said the Colonel,
we do not meet here for Business, but, however, let her come up. — When the Constable withdrew,—Give me Leave, Gentlemen,
said the Doctor,
to examine this Affair, and to beg of you to do exactly like me, for I want to try an Experiment.—They promis'd, and then enter'd the
Constable, Moll Stevens, Paddy Murphy,
the Master and Mistress of the House, and most of the Servants.
THE Staff-Officer produc'd the
Bible,
and very learnedly began to open the Cause; but the
Doctor
stopp'd him saying,
Pray, Friend, hold your Peace: You have nothing to say in the Affair, and I charge you all to keep Silence.—Come hither, young Woman,
said he,
Don't tremble.—We shall do you no Harm.— You are here to swear to the Person who has greatly injur'd you in your Reputation, and brought you into some Disgrace.—Do you know, Child, the Nature of an Oath? — Poor
Molly Stevens,
with downcast Looks, and faultering Tongue, answer'd—
Yes
—Consider, young Woman,
said the Doctor,
that an
Oath
is the only Security between Man and Man. —Consider that an
Oath
is a solemn Affirmation in the Presence of
Almighty God,
that what we speak is the
Truth,
and stake our
precious Souls
on it.—Consider the Situation you are now in, and that you must, very speedily, be put to a Tryal, where your Life will be in Danger.—To swear falsely, and, perhaps, in a few Days be called to
Judgment,
is a Thought that should make every Creature tremble. — Consider seriously, my Child, that
God
will punish Sinners, therefore, be certain of the
Truth,
and do not rashly risk your
Soul,
and add a Crime of the blackest Dye, to the Crime, that, by Repentance,
God Almighty
may forgive.—Be resolute, and say the Truth.
— Tears flow'd very plentifully down poor
Molly
's Cheeks; but the Doctor, taking off his Hat, and kneeling down, all the Company did the same.—In this Posture, he gave her the Book, and administer'd the Oath in the most solemn Manner, and then rose up.—
Now, Child,
said he,
you are bound to answer with Truth.—Is this young Man, whose Name is
Patrick Murphy,
the Father of the Child you now go with, or not?' — With many Sobbs and Tears she, at last, answered—
No
— Who then,
said he,
is the Father of it?
— She hesitated for some Time, and with great Difficulty, answer'd —
John Clinch.
—
Who was it,
said the Doctor,
that did advise, and would have persuaded you to swear falsely against
Patrick Murphy.
She answer'd —
John Clinch.
— Very well,
said he,
your Affair is finished — But for you, Mr.
Constable,
it is my Orders, that you find good Security by To-morrow Morning, for the Maintenance of the Child; and that you immediately pay One Guinea to
Patrick Murphy,
or I will have you
indicted
for
Subornation
of
Perjury.
THE Constable, tho' vastly confounded, had so much Wit that he paid his Fine, and the
extra
Company withdrew, triumphing with
Murphy,
and applauding the Wisdom of the Parson.—
Doctor,
said the Colonel,
I wish you Joy, for if
Perjury
be a
damning Sin,
you have certainly, for this Bout, sav'd
one poor Soul.'
—'I have often thought,
reply'd the Doctor,
that we have not only multiply'd
Oaths,
and made them
familiar,
but that our
common
Way of administring them, is an Inlet to the
greatest
of
Evils,
and sincerely wish, that all
Justices
of the
Peace,
and other
Magistrates,
would see it perform'd in a more
decent
and
Christian-like
Manner.—Well, well,
said Mr. Leatherhead,
tho'ff
John Clinch
be to Father the Child, I believe
Irish Paddy
has had a Finger in the Pye.—The Son of a Wh—re has a most swinging
Brogue,
and the Girls begin with
Laughing,
but he makes some of them
Cry
for all that. The Fellow makes Love to my Wife's Maid, and I've a Letter of
his'n
in my Pocket. —Come,
said the Colonel,
now for an
Irish Billet-doux.
My deer Sowl,
WHAT signifis making an Orasion and Palavar, for your one sweet Self no's how despratly i'm in Love with you. My poor I's karryd the Arrant oftin enuf, and your one deer Fese was after givin me a sivil Anser, for you simpurd upon me, and made my poor Hart gump for Joy. Now thees fuu Lines is to ashure my deer charmin
Sally,
that if she pleses to let me have a smal Confablation, I wil ley my Hart and Sowl at her Feet, and you may command me by Nite or by Dey for the precent Time, or my hole Life. If you breke my poor Hart I will love you; and when I am in my cowld Greve, my Gost wil attind you, and do you al the Sarvis I can. Ogh! my deer
Sally,
kepe my Hart allive, and you will find it beter then al the Gosts in
England.
No more at precent from your fethful and dyin
PATRICK MURPHY.
WELL said,
Paddy! cry'd the Colonel,
I assure you the young Rogue has got the Laconick Stile, and says a great deal in few Words. In spite of the Brogue on his Pen, you find he comes to the Point, and very likely will carry it.— That he won't,
reply'd
Mr.
Leatherhead,
for the Girl hates him, and abuses him all Day long.'—And yet,
said Sir John,
she may love him all Night.—There have been such Tricks.—'I am in Love,
said
Mr.
Conyers,
with this
Irish Epistle;
but I have one from a Shoemaker in
London
to my Farmer
Tom Driver,
whose Son is his Apprentice. As it is a Sample of
low Londonshire English,
I beg Leave to read it.
Dear Friend,
THESE few Lines is to acquaint you, that your Son
Tom
is in good Health at this present Writing, and begins to handle his Hammer to
some Tune,
so that I
hopes
he'l be a clever
Feller.
He was in a strange Quandery at the many Fokes in this City, but that Matter is now all off. I'l say that for him, he's the
most biggest Boy
I ever see of's Age, and as strong as a Bruser: He
fitt Will. Adz,
the Cooper's Boy and soundly thrash'd his Jackett. He plays a rare
Knife
and
Fork,
but can't eat
Weeal
without
Weeneger;
but he's very fond of a
few Broth.
The poor Lad had a
Mishap
last Week, for he fell out
at Wynder,
and broke his Head against the
Stone Postisses.
I find he looks hard at the Wenches, so
I fears,
he won't be a
Batchelder
at the End of's Time. Our Friend Mr.
Tabby,
the Stay-Maker, is now a
Wyder.
No more from
your loving Frend,
TOBY LIFT.
I DON'T see,
said Mr. Leatherhead,
why we should laugh at the Shoemaker because he don't write so fine as a
Parson;
tho'ff he don't, he writes well enough, and he's an
Englishman;
But what a Plague have we to do with a Parcel of
Irish,
who take the Bread out of our Mouths, and debauch all our Women? Why don't we
transport
'em back to their
Bogs
and
Potato's;
I'm sure 'twould be happy for us if
Ireland
was at the
Bottom of the Sea.'
—'No, no,
said Sir John,
not that neither; but I think we ought to give them
no Trade,
and make them pay some of our
Taxes.'
— 'That's an odd Maxim,
Sir John, said the Colonel:
—Now I should think, that the best Way to make them pay some of our Taxes, is to put them in a Condition to do it.— Should we keep them Poor, we may lay on Taxes, but how shall we collect them?—Where shall we find the Money? —'I shall not,
said the Doctor,
reason on the Prudence or Justice of
England,
because, tho' Mr.
Leatherhead
forgets it, I was born in
Ireland,
and might be suspected of Partiality, but Mr.
Conyers
has a Letter, with some Account of that
Kingdom,
which, I own, gave me great Pleasure, because I sincerely love
Great-Britain,
and honour the
King.'
— 'The Account,
said Mr. Conyers,
that the Doctor has mentioned, is a Copy of a Letter from an
English Gentleman,
to a noble
Lord,
which fell into my Hands by Accident. If you think proper, it shall make Part of our Entertainment at next Meeting.
* * *
THE Reader will please to remember, that Mr.
Villeneuf
gave
Jack
a Paper relating to
Ireland.
This Paper Mr.
Conyers
altered, and threw into the Shape of the following Letter,
which he read in his Place.
Dublin,
17
March,
1744.
My Lord,
I HAVE now finished my Tour through this Kingdom. In my former Letters I gave your Lordship some Account of Cities and Towns, but rather as a Journal of my Travels, than a regular Description of the Country. I purpose now to speak of the Kingdom in general, and hope I have so much conquered my former unaccountable
Prejudices,
as to be able to give your Lordship a short but true Idea of
Ireland.
IT is of little Moment to argue, whether this Country is claimed by
England
as a Conquest, or whether the Inhabitants threw themselves under its Protection?—That the
Irish
fought against
Queen Elizabeth,
and were often in Arms, till entirely subdued by
King William,
is a Matter not to be wondered at, when we consider their
Religion.
—Erroneous as their Principles were, they certainly acted agreeable to them.—No doubt the Resistance they made, and the Blood they shed, struck that Sort of
Horror
and
Hatred
in our Ancestors, that is handed down to their Posterity, and makes, at this Day, Part of our Character.—When we speak of the People, we ought carefully to make a Distinction between
Irish
and
Irish,
that is, we ought to regard the
Protestants
of
Ireland
as ourselves, because, in Fact, they are our
Brethren
and our
Children;
and so to manage the poor
Natives,
who are mostly
Papists,
that by
Clemency
and good
Usage
we may wean them from ill Habits, and make them
faithful
and
useful
Subjects.
THE Settlements of our Ancestors in this
Kingdom,
and the Number of
English
that are daily fixing themselves in the
Law,
the
Church,
the
Army,
and in
Civil Employments,
must in Time make it a
Protestant Country,
and of the highest Importance to
Great-Britain.
— An Acquisition of
Three Millions of Subjects,
and above
Ten Millions
of good Acres, is not so trivial an Affair as some imagine.— If we have
conquered
this Kingdom, Who enjoys the
Conquest
but the Descendants of the
English?
—If true Policy requires Lenity and Encouragement to the
Conquered,
undoubtedly the
Conquerors,
who settled on the Spot, have at least the same Title.—Wherefore did we conquer but to establish our
Laws,
our
Religion,
our
Manners,
and our
Liberty,
amongst a People who greatly wanted all, and to add
Strength
and
Lustre,
to the
Throne of England?
—It is true, my Lord, we are Masters of this Kingdom, but I am afraid we do not reap a
Tenth
of the Advantages it might procure us!
OUR whole Conduct favours too much of
Monopoly.
We argue from wrong Principles; for every
Individual,
regardless of every other, measures the Happiness of the Kingdom but by his own private Interest. — Thus, a
Cloathing
Town complains dreadfully of the
Decay
of its Trade, without considering how much it
increases
in another.—
Bristol
is much out of Humour that the
African
and
Slave-Trade
is so considerably fall'n; but
Bristol
forgets to inform us, how greatly it flourishes at
Liverpool.
PROVIDED Trade exists, 'tis indifferent to us, as a Nation, where it fixes; but I apprehend, the more Places it inhabits, the greater the Chance for its
Increasing.
—With regard to the Kingdom, I applaud our Wisdom in promoting and encouraging their
Linen Manufacture.
— Their Industry has brought this Branch to infinite perfection, which alone enables them to pay so great a Tax to
England
as
Twelve Hundred Thousand Pounds a Year.
—Your Lordship will be surprised at my Mentioning a Tax.—If the express Letter will not allow of the Term, the
real Fact
will justify it.—The
Pensions
and
Employments
on this Establishment, the large
Fortunes
spent in
England,
the great Importation of
English
Commodities, with other Articles that are exactly computed, will amount to that Sum, if not to more.
DID they want this
Linen
Trade,
England,
would want so much clear Profit, and
Silesia, Hamburgh
and
Holland,
enjoy the Sweets. Your Lordship therefore perceives, how much it is the Interest of
England,
to cherish and countenance this Branch. Should we neglect or clog it by
partial Views,
or unseasonable
Parsimony,
we should irrecoverably lose a
Mine
more valuable than that of
Gold.
Whilst we favour
Ireland
in this, it is but Just and Right we would be equally kind to our Brethren of
Scotland.
The Field is wide enough for both, and both ought to be supported by every
Bounty
we can bestow.
WHAT Laws have we not made, what Expence have we not been at, to prevent the Exportation of
Irish Wooll
into Foreign Nations! — Has it answered the End proposed?—I am sure it has not— The natural Consequence of our Prohibition is, that they send, it by Stealth into
France,
where they have a certain Vent.— Is this clandestine Trade practised in
England?
—I fear your Lordship cannot answer in the Negative.
IRELAND could do extremely well without
French Wines;
but I know not the Inconveniencies
France
would be drove to, had she not their
Beef,
their
Tallow, Hides
and
Butter;
but when we add
Wooll,
the
Irish
have a Profit in that Commodity; the
French
have a vast Gain, but the
English
are as certainly vast Losers.—Were your Lordship to examine strictly into the Truth, you would find that the
grand Contest
is not so much between
England
and
Ireland,
but between
England
and
France.
Your Lordship would then discover, that every
Link
we throw out to
bind Ireland,
not only curtails
their Profits
but our own, and, what is worse, transferring those Profits into the Arms of
France.
—Was this Matter seriously considered, and it is worth the Thoughts of the wisest amongst us,
Abbeville
would soon be a Desart, and the
French
obliged to recur to the old Method of buying our Stuffs.
AND here, my Lord, permit me to lay open a Piece of
French
Conduct, which is not generally known.
Abbeville
is a Royal Manufacture: To support which,
Wooll
must be obtained from
England
and
Ireland
at any Price, but the Manufacturers pay only the middle Price of
England,
and the
King,
that is, the Kingdom in general, pays the Remainder. By this Method, and by the Cheapness of Provisions, they are able to undersell us in foreign Markets.
AMONGST the many Schemes for restraining
Irish Wooll,
I have met but with
one
that in any Degree can answer the End. — The Author proposes a
large Bounty
on the Exportation of Corn from
Ireland.
—This,
says he,
would certainly throw the Inhabitants into
Tillage,
and soon convert their
Sheep Walks
into
Corn Fields,
and all the People would be properly employed and supported.
WERE your Lordship to view the
Southern
and
Western
Coasts of this
Kingdom,
you would be as much charmed with their
Bays
and
Harbours,
as astonished to find them of such little Use.—Little to themselves, but less to
England.
— Were it possible to convince Gentlemen, that, let the
Riches
of
Ireland
be what it will,
Nine Tenths
would certainly center in
England,
I imagine they could not hesitate a Moment, but, by endeavouring to increase it, at the Expence of our
Enemies,
enable them, at last, to bear a Proportion, and to contribute to the Exigencies of the
British Government.
THE common Opinion of the
Laziness
of the
Irish,
is not strictly Just. The
Negroes
in
America
have certainly more comfortable Dwellings, and are better fed than the
poor Natives
of this Country. They are Strangers to
Property,
as well as
Meat.
With what Spirit would an
English Plowman
work under such Circumstances? — I fancy not much better than the
Irish.
—If these poor People are
Slothful
and
Inactive,
their
Food
will account for it, on the same Principles that
Sir William Temple
accounts for the
peculiar Courage
of the
English.
—No doubt, my Lord, but good Nourishment, good Cloaths, and decent Habitations, greatly Influence the Constitution of a Man, and give a Labourer that Vigour and Life so necessary to his Employment.—Your Lordship may ask, Why it is not so in
Ireland?
— The Error, I think, lies in the Generality of the
Landlords.
Here, a Man of large Fortune never
sees
his
Estate,
and will not be troubled with a Multiplicity of Tenants. — He lets the Whole to a few Gentlemen.—These, lett their Parts to others, reserving a certain Revenue to themselves.—These again do the same in a lower Degree, till, by passing thro' a Dozen, or Twenty Hands, it sinks the
real Occupiers
into downright
Misery
and
Wretchedness.
—As a Man of some Humanity and Tenderness for my Fellow Creatures, I most heartily wish I could as easily Point out the
Remedy,
as shew the
Disease.
NOTWITHSTANDING their
own
capital Errors, and many of
ours,
they seem to struggle through Difficulties with great Resignation and Patience. They spare no Pains to make it a
Protestant Kingdom,
and most vigorously follow the Plan laid down, at a vast Expence, by Dr. HENRY MAUL, now
Bishop of Meath,
in educating the Children of the Natives in
Labour, Industry
and
true Religion.
Already have they reclaimed Thousands of unhappy Creatures, and added them to the Stock of
faithful Subjects.
—If the
Romans
granted a
Civic Crown
to him who saved
one
Citizen, what
Triumphs,
what
Statues
does not this truly
Right
Reverend
Prelate
deserve, for preserving such Multitudes!—The Reward of
this World
can be but Praise; the
just Recompence
can only be given in the
other.
—I inclose to your Lordship a full Account of this most noble and useful
Charity,
now founded on a
Charter.
ONE rational Scheme produces others. —Their liberal Subscriptions for encouraging
Husbandry, Arts, Manufactures,
and, in short, every Branch of
Industry
and
useful
Knowledge, betrays not an
idle, inactive Spirit,
and the Consequence is visible throughout the whole Kingdom. — I send your Lordship a List of
Premiums
for the present Year. Add this to the Account of the
Charter Schools,
and they give such a Proof of
true Wisdom
and
Understanding,
that I am not able to cite any Thing that even looks like a Parallel.
YOUR Lordship will not expect Encomiums on the
Papists
of this Kingdom for their
firm
Attachment to a
Protestant Government.
No, my Lord, but they are
quiet
and
amenable
to it. As for the
Protestants,
I am convinced his
Majesty
has not more
loyal and faithful Subjects.
THE Ridicule on the
Irish Tone,
or Manner of Speaking, is rather more
absurd
than
barbarous.
All Nations have that Folly. — The
Parisians
make very free with the
Normans, Gascoigns,
and other Provinces. — The People of
Rome
banter the common
Venetian Dialect.
— The
Saxons
despise the
Tone
of other
German States.
— All
Germany
laugh at the
Low Dutch,
and the
Hollanders
laugh as heartily at the
Flemings.
—Each
Country
in
England
make themselves
merry
at the Expence of
another;
but all
England
ridicule the
Scotch, Welch
and
Irish,
and these, I suppose,
return the Compliment.
— Thus we have all the lucky Faculty of finding
Perfection in ourselves,
and seeing the
Contrary
in our Neighbours.
WHATEVER might have been the Reason for holding the
Irish
in Contempt, even to
Hatred,
I can truly say, those Reasons must have long since ceased. They are now
Members,
and very useful Members to our
Body,
and are capable of being made infinitely more so. They are not, as some imagine, a
Wen
on the Neck of
England,
that disgraces our
Form,
and sucks up our
natural Juices.
No, my Lord; but as it certainly is in our Power to make
them so,
it is as certain that we
may
and
ought
to render them a
Strength
and a
Support
to the
British Government.
I CANNOT let slip an Opportunity of expressing my
Gratitude
for the many Civilities I have received in this Country.
Hospitality
is their Character. Indeed they a little exceed in the Article of
Wine,
especially in
Brimmers,
to the Cause of
Liberty
and our
happy Constitution.
Their Zeal is so fervent, that they forget that the
Wine they drink
is of that
Country
that would
destroy both.
LET us, my Lord, avoid all invidious
Names
and
Distinctions,
and rank them amongst the
Errors
of the
Vulgar.
Let us be
just
and
faithful
to each other. Let us learn
Truth, Wisdom
and
Honour.
These are not confined to the
Torrid
or
Frigid Zone,
neither can
temperate Regions
boast their peculiar Residence.
I am, with the greatest Respect, My Lord,
&c.
CHAP. X.
Where, where, degen'rate Countrymen—how high,
Will your fond Folly and your Madness fly?
Are Scenes of Death, and servile Chains so dear
To sue for Blood and Bondage every Year,
Like Rebel Jews, with too much Freedom curst,
To court a Change,—tho' certain of the worst?
GARTH.
I AM afraid I have carried my Reader too far from the Subject-Matter of this History, and try'd his Patience; but I assure him that my Indulgence has been very great; for, at infinite Pains, I have curtail'd the last Chapter at least Sixty Pages. —Few know the Difficulty of
Bridling
the
Imagination,
and
Reining back
an hard-mouth'd
Pen.
It sometimes gets a-head, and, in Spite of all our Skill, runs away with us into
Mire
and
Dirt;
nay, this Minute I find my Quill in a Humour to gallop, so shall stop him short in Time.
THUS we have seen the agreeable Manner Mr.
Conyers
pass'd away many Evenings; and thus did he establish himself in the Affections of his Company, and in the Love of the Inhabitants, by many Acts of generous Charity.
Colonel Manly,
in particular, held him in great Esteem, and carried his Friendship so far, as to promise his Interest with the
Borough
for a
Seat
in
Parliament
on the first Vacancy.
MR. CONYERS had now experienced perfect Happiness for above a Year.—He knew the great Secret of enjoying the
good Things of this World,
so as not to
abuse them.
—His
Fortune,
his
faithful
and
agreeable Companion,
his
Family,
and the
Love
and
Respect
of all, were the Rewards of his
honest
Intentions to
all Mankind.
In a Word,
the Elements in him were so mix'd,
that he deserv'd the honourable Title of
a Man.
— But this World is not made for
permanent
and lasting Joys! — His
Happiness, Tranquillity,
and every
domestick Pleasure,
vanish'd in a Moment, and left him as awaken'd out of a Dream of Bliss.—He had a Prospect of an Increase to his Happiness, but the Disappointment added to his Pains.
MRS. CONYERS was near Lying-in, but an ignorant Servant Maid telling her a most frightful Story of the
Rebellion,
which had just then broke out, threw her into a
Fit
and violent Tremor, which brought on an improper Labour. She was delivered of a Boy, who died soon after, and in four Days the
kind,
the
tender,
the
affectionate
and
agreeable
Mrs.
Conyers,
follow'd her Child.
THE Distraction and real Grief of the Family and their Friends is not to be express'd. Mr.
Conyers
bore this dreadful Stroke like a
Man,
but
he felt it like a Man.
His Exclamations were few, but his Sighs and the Throbbings of his Heart were without Number. His
inky Coat
was not the only Sign of Sorrow. The involuntary Tear, the Heavings of his Breast, and the Alteration of his Countenance, gave visible Marks of
sincere Affliction.
—Let me at once quit the melancholy Subject, and bring my Friend to a State of Mind a little more composed and resigned.—He assured Mr. and Mrs.
Sampson
of his constant Affection and Love, and that notwithstanding his
dearest Wife
had made no
Will,
he knew her Intention, and would fulfil it. Accordingly, new Writings were drawn, and he made them a Compliment of
Three thousand Pounds.
HIS gloomy Countenance would have had a much longer Duration, had not the
Rebellion
rous'd his Indignation. He thought his Duty to his
Sovereign
call'd him from Inaction, and the Love of his
Country
seem'd prior to every other Regard. To bestow hard Names on
Rebels,
and supinely to sigh at intestine War, he judg'd, was
unmanly
and imprudent. He had no Idea, that the Choice of
Liberty
or
Slavery
requir'd a Moment's Hesitation. Full of
Freedom
and
Glory,
he unbosom'd his Thoughts to the Colonel. —
My dear Friend,
said this venerable but hearty old Gentleman,
I must love you the more for this.—Yes, my dear
Conyers,
go — fight for your Country, and
God Almighty
preserve and give you Victory!— Did my great Age permit, I would be your Companion, and share in the Danger.—I well remember, tho' then a Boy, the Insolence of a
Popish Government.
I remember the
Seven Bishops
in the Tower. —The Swarms of
Friers
in St.
James
's Park.— The Sham
Liberty of Conscience,
and a thousand other Enormities. — Young as I was, I follow'd my Father, and join'd the
Prince of Orange.
—I fought and bled for him and
Liberty
at the
Boyne.
—I fought for
Liberty
and KING GEORGE at
Dumblain,
and what Man, who has a Soul, and a Sense of our
invaluable Blessings,
but would venture, nay lay down his Life for
them?
— Now I am Old and Infirm, but my Heart is good, —indeed it is
—The poor Gentleman could proceed no farther, for Tears choak'd his Words. Mr.
Conyers
was greatly affected, and said all in his Power to ease the
Colonel
's Heart.—
You must forgive,
said the Colonel,
the Weakness of an old Man.— I cannot help it.—But, when I think on Times past,—On the Danger our
Constitution
has, so often, been in, and the noble and successful Struggles we have made to defend it.—When I think on these Things, my
Pulse
forgets its Age, and beats as strong as in Youth.—
Good God!
—What is it we
want!
—Is there a
reasonable Blessing
that we do not, or may not enjoy! — Are we blind to our own
Happiness,
and can some, who call themselves
Protestants,
even think of a
Popish King
but with Horror?—Can we be so stupid as not to see the
old,
the
stale Trick
of
France?
And must some of us always fall into so weak a Project?—Poor deluded Men! But thank God, we have still
Honour
and
Wisdom
sufficient to convince them of their Errors.
FROM my Soul I wish it,
reply'd
Mr.
Conyers,
neither have I the least Doubt. —For my Part, I am determin'd, and will immediately prepare for the
Field.
— I believe,
said the Colonel,
I can assist you.—Let me see—Ay—I have a
Tent,
and every Camp-Necessary, in good Order, for I frequently visit them to refresh my Memory. — These are your's, with two excellent Baggage Horses, and a Baw-Man that understands his Business. —Dear Sir,
said
Mr.
Conyers,
you have made me quite happy.—I am already in the Field. — Softly, softly,
answer'd the Colonel,
perhaps I may do somewhat more. I would not have you go with
Irregulars,
for it will not be so Satisfactory.—A
Noble Duke
is about raising a
Regiment
of HORSE.—He does me the Honour to rank me with his intimate Friends, and I will immediately send an Express, and write him such a Letter, that, perhaps, shall put you in a Light of Honour, and enable you to be
really useful.
—Mr.
Conyers
return'd him many Thanks, and he was exact to his Promise.
WE must now,
said the Colonel,
think of engaging a few good Volunteers to accompany you to the Regiment, in case you succeed. We must be busy, and go roundly to work.
— In a few Days they fix'd on twenty young Fellows, mostly Sons of Tenants. — In a short Time the Colonel received a most polite and obliging Answer to his Letter. It concluded—
From the great Character you give Mr.
Conyers,
he cannot fail of being extremely agreeable. I am sorry I have but a Lieutenancy to offer him. Should this be accepted of, I beg an Answer by Express, and that he would join the Regiment at ***** with all Speed, with whatever good Men he can pick up.
LIEUTENANT
Conyers, said the Colonel,
I most heartily wish you Joy.—Now indeed Matters put on a better Face, and you are equipp'd as you ought to be.— But, Bustle, Bustle.—Take Leave of the good People at Home; make your Will, and—
To Horse and away.
TAKING Leave, was a Task he could wish to be excus'd, but it was impossible. Mr.
Sampson
was struck Dumb at the News, but his good Wife lost all Patience. She could not comprehend the Necessity of his going in
Person,
when he might by
Deputy.
She quoted many Examples of Gentlemen, of Fortunes infinitely superior to his, who contented themselves with
paying a little Money,
and
drinking Success
to the Cause.—
Yes, yes, my Dear,
said her Husband,
they must be special
good Subjects,
who are only
warm
in the Cause, by the Quantity of Liquor they drink. I violently suspect such Sort of People, and am not sorry to find my dear Brother of another Way of Thinking. I am only concern'd that such an unhappy Occasion should deprive us of his Company, and throw him into Danger; but I trust in God, he will return in Safety and with Victory.'—If he must go,
reply'd
Mrs.
Sampson,
I pray God to protect and shield him.
—The Conversation became more familiar, and by degrees he persuaded them to excuse the Ceremony of Parting, which would give Pain, and make him miserable.
WITH all imaginable Diligence he prepared for his Departure. He sent forward twenty-three Recruits under the Care of two of his Tenants. He left a
Will
with Dr.
Grace,
and a Power with Mr.
Sampson
to receive his Rents, and remitted Five Hundred Pounds to the Agent of the Regiment, that he might draw on him as Occasions required. He concerted Matters with the Colonel, and his Horses and Baggage filed off by Degrees to the next Town. He invited some Friends to Dinner the next Day, which was
Sunday;
so the Family was sure of him for one Meal more. However, whilst they were at Church, the Colonel called in his Chariot and accompany'd him, where the Horses attended. The old Gentleman gave him a proper Letter to
his Grace,
and stay'd with him that Night. In the Morning he took a Soldier-like Farewell; saw him set out for the Regiment, and return'd in the Evening to give Mr.
Sampson
an Account of their Expedition.
CHAP. XI.
Since great Examples justify Command,
Let glorious Acts more glorious Acts inspire,
And catch, from Breast to Breast, the noble Fire.
POPE'S HOMER.
OUR
Lieutenant
soon arrived at the appointed Place, and found his Recruits in good Order. He was received with great Politeness, and presented with his
Commission,
and to all his Brother-Officers. The Regiment was near compleat, and only waited the
General
's Orders to march where the Service required. He was extremely pleased with this New
Society,
as he found the
Officers
were not only Gentlemen of
Good Sense,
but of
considerable Fortunes.
He readily joined in every Expence that was proposed to make the Regiment live comfortably, and do Honour to the Cause.
IN about three Weeks he received a Letter from
Colonel Manly,
with some Books. The Letter is so concise, and so full of
good Instruction,
that I cannot avoid giving it a Place
verbatim.
My very dear Friend,
I TAKE this first Opportunity of fulfilling my Promise, by laying before you what my Age and Experience judge necessary for your Well-doing.
YOU are a Man of
Property,
and now enlisted to fight the Cause of
Freedom,
and of
That
MONARCH who has
ever supported it.
—You are a
Soldier.
You are one of
those
on whom,
under God,
the
Life
and
Liberty
of this Nation depend. —Consider the
Dignity
of your Station.— Consider the
mighty Trust
reposed in you. Consider yourself, and it is scarcely possible you will err in your Conduct.
I AM positive as to your
personal Courage,
for your Soul is
humane
and
tender,
and your Tongue is not a
Bragart;
but as your Behaviour in this new Scene of Life is what I am not so certain of, your Good-nature will excuse a little Advice, and attribute my
Trite Maxims,
more to the Warmth of my Friendship, than to any Occasion you may have for them.
TO be an
Officer,
there is no Necessity of being inspired with supernatural Talents.
Common Sense,
and the
Deportment
of a Gentleman are sufficient. The Knowledge of your
Duty,
and the
Military Art,
will come with
Time
and
Experience;
but a close Application to the Study is necessary.
THE Love of the Soldiers is the Happiness of an
Officer;
and to gain
that Love,
the Method is short and easy.—
Pay and punish where due, but never strike.
— Be free with your Men, but suffer them not to be too free with you. An
haughty,
over-bearing Temper, may indeed inspire them with
Fear,
but never with
Affection.
Treat them as
Men,
and they will respect you as
their Officer;
but at the same Time, be careful that the
Non-commission'd
Officers act in the same Manner, and
support
their proper Authority, on which all
Duty
and
Submission
depends.
ENDEAVOUR, as much as possible, to keep your Men
clean
and
decent;
it gives
Spirits,
and prevents
Drunkenness
and
Debauchery.
— Drop in at their Meals, taste their Victuals, encourage them to keep good Messes, and reprove where you find them remiss.
BE assiduous to learn the
Exercise
of a Soldier, and keep your Men diligent at it, yet so as not to fatigue them unnecessarily. See that they punctually obey your Commands, but be not too rigorous in
trivial Matters.
Believe me, the Men soon find out the
Genius
of their Officers, and will never
impose
or play Tricks, when they know they cannot do it with
Impunity.
MAKE it a constant Rule to
obey
with
Alacrity
and
Chearfulness
every Order of your Superiors: Such a Conduct will add to your
Reputation,
and confirm your
Character.
SLANDER and
Scandal
sometimes insinuate themselves into Camps, and too frequently attack the most Deserving. Let me beg of you to turn the deaf Ear to
evil Report,
and not be speedily
prejudiced
against any Man, much less your Commanders.
IF an
Officer
need not have all the
Wisdom
of a Privy-Counsellor, he ought, at least, to have that Part that enjoins
Secrecy.
The
Spanish
Proverb is good:—
In a closed Mouth no Flies enter.
—Execute your Orders in Silence, and let not the most
distant Hint,
of the Conduct of the Army, escape from your
Lips
or your
Pen.
Should you know nothing particular, your Words must be mere Conjecture, and, in all Probability, quite wrong. Should a material Circumstance come to your Knowledge, what
Infamy
must follow your disclosing it!
COMPANY and
Chearfulness
are absolutely necessary, but to
drink
to
Excess
is inexcusable. The
Lives
of
Thousands
depend on the
Sobriety
of
Officers.
—How can a
Drunkard
guide Men truly, when his own Legs
mutiny,
and refuse his Commands?
BE
charitable;
be
generous
according to your Power; but seldom give
Money
to a Soldier. When you think proper to
Reward
or
Encourage,
there are other Ways infinitely more useful to them.
RISE early, and examine your Command; keep them reasonably employ'd, and under the
strictest Discipline;
but let your
own Example
keep Pace with your
Precepts.
Have all your Affairs in so
nice
and
exact
an Order, as to be always
ready
to march at a Moment's Warning. All Men ought to accustom themselves to
Regularity;
but none requires it more than a
Soldier.
YOUR natural
good Temper
will prevent your giving
Offence
to any One, and perhaps incline you to bear patiently
those
offered to you; but
have a Care,
and let what will be the Consequence, permit no Man to
Taunt
or
Insult
—Should the least Particle of
Contempt
fall on you, quit a Service, where you must do
more Harm
than
Good.
WITH regard to your
present Enemies,
hold them not
too cheap.
—Speak of them as Men of an
unhappy Education,
led away by
false Maxims,
and prejudiced to
erroneous Principles:
They are, or ought to be, our
Brethren.
—Let your
Humanity
extend to them as far as
Safety
and
Prudence
will permit. If absolute and
fatal Necessity
compels you to strike, let the Sword fall from no other Motive but the
General Good.
— Let it be
effectual,
but
instant.
— In that unhappy Case drive every
Womanish Weakness
from your Heart, and consider, that too much
Lenity
and
Tenderness
may be Cruelty to your Country.—The
Action,
or necessary Pursuit over, let
Clemency
and
Compassion
fill your Breast.—Should you
conquer,
be all
Mildness
and
Charity.
—Comfort the Prisoner; assist the wretched Wounded; speak Peace to despairing Souls, and, if possible, shew them the Joys of
Freedom
and
Liberty.
But I have done, and discharged the Office annexed to
Love
and
Friendship.
If my Hints are useless to you, perhaps you may know those to whom they may be of Service.
I SEND you my old faithful Companion
Monsieur de Feuquiere.
Read him carefully, for he is able to instruct. I likewise send you
Polibius,
with the Annotations of
Monsieur de Follard.
YOU find I am an
old Fellow
by my long-winded Tale; but I shall appear more so, when you consider I end, (where I ought to have begun) by recommending to you the Service of
God,
and Obedience to his Ordinances. A
Righteous
and a
Godly Life
is the best Preparative for
Death.
Tho'
all
ought, yet none should be more ready to obey
that Call
than a
Soldier.
—His
Life
is every Instant, in a
peculiar Manner,
at Stake.—Think on this frequently, and your Duty to
God
and
Man
will certainly follow; and
Man
and the
Almighty
will reward you with
Peace, Content
and
Happiness.
—Into his Hands I resign you, and most fervently pray him to crown your Cause with
Victory,
and to
continue his Mercy
to this Land to
latest Posterity.
I am, my dear
Conyers,
Your very affectionate and Very faithful Servant, JOSIAH MANLY.
MR. CONYERS was greatly pleased at the Sincerity and Goodness of the Colonel. He read his Letter many Times, and compared it with the Instructions of Mr.
Kindly,
with a determin'd Resolution of adhering to both as far as he was able. He read
Feuquiere
and
Polibius
with Pleasure, but
Monsieur de la Colonie,
and the Maxims of
Turenne,
afforded equal Instruction and Delight.
CHAP. XII.
Whither, Oh! whither do you madly run,
The Sword unsheath'd, and impious War begun?
What Land, what Wave of boundless Neptune's Flood
Hath not been stain'd, alas! with
British
Blood;
Not that the Rival to the
British
Fame
Proud France,
might tremble at the
British
Name,
Not that
Iberia,
tho' unskill'd in War,
In Chains should follow our triumphal Car;
But that
Rome's Pontiff
should his Vow enjoy,
And
Britain,
Suicide! herself destroy.
FRANCIS
'S 7th
Epode
of
Horace,
alter'd.
WHY should I take up the Time of the Reader, by going minutely into the Conduct of the
Rebels
or our own. My Task is only relative to the private Character of
Jack Connor,
or Mr.
Conyers.
A
Lawyer
only speaks from his
Brief,
and in all those Pages on which
this History
is founded, I find little or no Traces of the Actions of the Times.—I own I met with a Paper, that I suppose serv'd as
Memorandums
and Hints to Mr.
Conyers.
It was dated like a Journal, but gave me little Insight into Affairs. I find the Words —
They slipp'd by — We march'd to — Miss'd again — Slipp'd again — Men much harrass'd —Vastly oblig'd to
London
Subscription—The Inhabitants of ***** deserve Encouragement, but the City of ***** to be burnt.—Thank God we have got our Troops from
Flanders. —
The
DUKE
to command.—Our People in great Spirits.—Victory or Death.
—Then follow'd in Capital Letters, CULLODEN 16th APRIL 1746. THEY WERE WEIGH'D IN THE BALLANCE, AND FOUND LIGHT.
WHEN he reflected on the happy Consequences of the
Glorious Day.
— When he considered, that
Freedom, Liberty, Religion,
and
his Majesty's August Family
were more firmly establish'd and confirmed to
Great Britain.
—That a full Period was put to
Blood
and
Slaughter,
and to that
unnatural Monster,
CIVIL WAR, his Heart
exulted,
and his
Joy
was extreme. — He very devoutly returned his Acknowledgments to
that Providence,
which had so often and so signally preserved our
invaluable Privileges,
and had protected him in the Midst of so many Dangers.
HE wrote a particular Account of this Battle to Mr.
Sampson
and
Colonel Manly.
He vastly extoll'd the
Skill
and
Judgment
of the
General,
and the
Valour
of the Troops. In his Letter to the Colonel, he has these remarkable Words:
I THINK I see all
England
in a
Joy
next to
Madness.
All admire the
Conduct
and
Intrepidity
of
his Royal Highness.
They cannot now find
Words
sufficient to express their Praises. But of you, who know the National Infirmity, give me Leave to ask,
How long will this last?
—Will they not soon be
equally eager
to
strip him
of his
Laurels?
—Will not
Envy, Malice,
and
Disaffection
soon endeavour to poison the Minds of the People, and
blast
the Reputation of Him, who risqued his own to preserve their
Lives
and
Properties?
—I fear he must expect such Treatment. I doubt our
Gratitude,
and most heartily wish, for the Honour of the Kingdom, that I may be deceived. This
War,
and the
Danger
of it is over, consequently the
Instruments of Safety,
will soon be sacrific'd to the
Parsimony
of their Purse, and every
disbanded Soldier
exposed to the
Insults
of every Peasant. — For my own Part, I so much admire the
Military Virtues
of my
Leader,
he shall command my
Hand
and my
Heart,
where-ever and as long as he judges proper.
HE greatly commiserated the unfortunate Prisoners, now subject to the
injured Laws
of their Country. To avert the Punishment due to such
Crimes,
was not in his Power; but to make them easy, and alleviate their Sorrows, was his daily Employment.—He lay'd no Stress on
Victory,
as it is an uncertain Determination of
Right
or
Wrong;
but he argued in the gentlest Terms, and endeavour'd to convince them, from
History, Reason,
and
Experience,
that their
Prejudices
were ill founded. — That, they were
Dupes
to the Politicks of
France,
and acted like
Children
who disobey the best of
Parents.
—That as Criminal as they were,
his Majesty
was cloathed with
Mercy,
and advised an immediate Application to his
Clemency.
—He shewed them the Goodness of the
late King
in 1715, and very judiciously referred them to the Memoirs of
Marchal Villars,
and many other
French
Books, for the opposite Conduct of
Lewis
the Fourteenth to his
Protestant
Subjects in the
Cevennes,
who had
taken Arms
merely to defend their
Religion,
not to
dethrone
their
Monarch.
—Such a Conduct made Mr.
Conyers
vastly beloved, and brought some, who were
violent,
to think with more
Moderation.
He greatly pity'd the
poor Clans,
as they were bred up in a blind and
implicit Obedience
to their
Chiefs.
He lamented those
Gentlemen
who acted from
Conscience
and
Principle,
but regarded those, as the most
wicked
of human Beings, whose only Motive was
to fish in Troubled Waters.
NOT content with this Sort of Behaviour, he endeavoured to remove
our own
Prejudices, and take off that
Acrimony
and
Ill-nature,
which some of us are too subject to.—He prov'd the
Injustice
and
Cruelty
of Branding a
whole Kingdom,
for the Faults of a
Few.
That, even those
Few
were fall'n
Brethren,
and erred in their
Duty,
but from their Zeal to
mistaken
Opinions. That most of them deserved our Pity more than our Anger. That, so far from perpetuating
Animosity,
all Encouragement and Regard should be shewn to the
Good,
and every Scheme set on Foot to convert the
Bad.
— Time and proper Management, would convince every Mortal, that, as a
Union
of
Minds
was our
reciprocal
Interest, so
Love
and
Friendship
would soon make
us, the affectionate Children of an indulgent Parent.
HAPPY, thrice
Happy
should we be, if every Man reasoned like Mr.
Conyers!
—
Division
and
Envy
and
Malice
and
Madness
would cease to
distract
and
confound
the real
Beauty
and
Harmony
of our most excellent
Constitution.
— Were our
Souls
cemented by
Love, Tenderness
and
Charity.
— Did we take half the Pains to
assist,
as we do to
destroy
each other, what
Joys
would not this
Land
afford!—With what Respect would
Foreign Nations
behold us! — What
Terror
to our
Enemies,
and to the
Disturbers
of
Europe!
CHAP. XIII.
Quoth
Hudibras,
the Case is clear,
As thou hast proved it by their Practice,
No Argument like
Matter of Fact
is;
And we are best of all led to
Mens
Principles
by what they do.
HUDIBRAS.
CERTAINLY it is almost Time to proceed to the personal Account of
Lieutenant Conyers,
but I must crave a little Indulgence for the following Chapter, and shall then follow him more closely.
AMONGST the Manuscripts so often mentioned, I found one relative to the unhappy Subject of last Chapter. I suppose Mr.
Conyers
had seen some of the
Declarations
published by the
Son
of the
Pretender,
which induced him to form
one
by way of
Parody,
and by taking off the
Mask
shew the
Picture
in a
full
and
just
Light.—Whether this Piece was published or not, I cannot learn, but to omit it in this its proper Place, would be unpardonable in a
Faithful Historian;
to which honourable Title I hope I have a Right.— The Paper runs thus.
THE DECLARATION of —
By Command of our R—l F—; the Divine Permission of his Holiness the Pope; the Assistance of his Most Christian, and the good Wishes of his Most Catholick Majesty, aided and supported by the Alms and Prayers of all true Sons of the Church, we send this our Declaration to the People of
England,
Greeting.
You must be all convinced, that the unhappy Fate of our Grand-Father
King James
the Second, (of Glorious and Pious Memory) was owing to the
Infidelity
and
Cowardice
of his Fleets and Armies.
AS your
Cowardice
and
Infidelity
were the Ruin and Subversion of our august House, we trust hat the same Principles are capable of
restoring
us to the Throne of our Ancestors.
TO obviate every Difficulty to these our just and laudable Purposes, we shall, by the Authority aforesaid, convince this Nation, that our Rule will be salutary, and extend to the Happiness of every Individual.
THE
Riot
and
Habeas Corpus Acts
are equally dangerous, and shall, with the Advice of Friends, be abrogated or suspended, until a Regulation can be made, and the
Holy Inquisition
introduced into the Kingdom.
AS the
Grand
and
Petty Juries
are the greatest Evils of Civil Government, they shall be abolished, and the Judges, whom we shall think proper to appoint, shall finally hear and determine all criminal Causes.
PROCESSES in Civil Affairs are most shamefully and abominably abused. The Decision of
Property,
as now managed, is a Matter that greatly affects our humane Heart, and until a proper Method can be fixed on for abridging the Laws, we shall take the contested
Lands
or
Property
into our Care and Guardianship.
THE Insufficiency of the
Statute
and
Common Law
of
England
absolutely require an Explaining and a
Dispensing
Power. We shall therefore, once more, establish a
Star Chamber-court
in its fullest Extent.
THE many Evils arising from Clandestine Marriages is a Scandal to the Nation, and Ruin to many Thousand Families. To remedy which, we shall immediately erect a
Court of Wards,
as in the Days of our illustrious Ancestors.
THE Education of Youth is a Matter of the highest Importance. Our Vigilance shall watch over those mighty Seminaries
Oxford
and
Cambridge.
Their Learning is too crampt and confined, but by the Assistance of
Mandamuses,
we shall throw in such Fellow Labourers from the
Sorbonne
and
St. Omers,
as will soon inculcate our grand Design.
LIBERTY is the greatest Blessing Man can enjoy; but the Abuse of that Liberty the greatest Curse: To avoid the latter, and yet keep strictly to the former, it is our sincere and determin'd Resoluion, to indulge every Man in the peaceable and quiet Liberty of THINKING. Nevertheless, tho' we would shew our great Moderation and Lenity, our true Intent and Meaning is, That should any Person presume to do more than merely THINK, he shall not only incur our highest Displeasure, but be delivered to the
Ecclesiastical Jurisdiction,
over whom we do not pretend to have any Power, consequently the Door of our natural Clemency will be shut against him.
FROM our unbounded Charity to weak and tender Minds, and in Imitation of our illustrious Grandfather, (of blessed Memory) it is our firm Resolution to grant a
plenary Indulgence
and full
Liberty of Conscience
to all Sects and Religions whatsoever; that they shall exercise and enjoy all their respective Rites and Ceremonies in the amplest Manner, until the
true and infallible Church
has taken Root, and spread its Branches,
but no longer.
THE Liberty of the Press is an Abomination in the Sight of God and Man. Such Power in the Hands of Unbelievers and
Hereticks,
gave Rise to vile Writings and Infinity of Blasphemies against the most Highest; nay, it has dared to open its Mouth against the
Majesty of Kings:
— To contemn and make odious that great Bulwark of Monarchy, The ancient System of
Divine, Hereditary
and
indefeasible Right
of Princes and Potentates; — To stir up the Rabble against that mild and peaceable Doctrine of
Non-Resistance
and
Passive Obedience;
—To undermine all the Ordinances of our Holy
Mother Church;
— To reproach us with
Idolatry,
Cruelty and Superstition; and above all, it has been so wicked, to set before the Vulgar and Ignorant the whole Works of the
Prophets
and
Apostles,
without the Aid of
Hebrew
or
Greek,
to the great Discouragement of Learning, and Increase of Impiety.—From a thorough Conviction of such horrid Practices we shall, in due Time, commission Thirty of our most able Ecclesiasticks to read and examine all Manuscripts, and licence such only to be printed, which they shall judge for the Honour of God, or
our own Benefit.
AS no true Son of the Church can with Patience hear of the Havock and Devastation the House of TUDOR made of her Lands and Revenues, nor of the many Robberies and Impieties committed in those barbarous Times against the
Holy See,
and the cloistered Saints whom God had so plentifully scattered over the Land, our Pious Intention is, so soon as Affairs will permit, to reinstate our
Holy Mother Church
into those Lands and Revenues granted her by the Charity of good Christians. — By the Account furnished us by our Holy Father, it is with the greatest Joy we find, that we shall be enabled to present to the Labourers in the Vineyard of God, a comfortable and reasonable Subsistance, tho' it but a little exceeds
Two Thirds
of the Lands of the Kingdom.
IN fine, Let us conjure you by the Duty you owe God's Hereditary Vicegerent: By the Love of Peace and Tranquillity, and by the Honour of our supreme and infallible Judge, to hear and consider these our real and sincere Purposes, stripped of any the least Disguise.—Consider our Situation. — Regard our Sword!— Consider, That the Most Christian King is our Support; the Most Catholick our Helper; and those in the Mountains Assertors of our Right.—Let therefore no
unsanctify'd Bishop
preach you from your Duty, but remember the Happiness, the mighty Happiness we intend to bestow upon you, and be assured on the Faith of a Family who
never forfeited their Word.
— On the Faith of a Family, whose
Virtues
and
Heroick
Deeds are so fully recorded in your Histories, that we shall not only strictly perform the several Articles in this our gracious Declaration, but shall take all Occasions, and watch all Opportunities of leading you more and more to a State of Perfection here on Earth, and to a State of everlasting Bliss in the World to come. Given at —
CHAP. XIV.
Now, by the Foot, the flying Foot were slain;
Horse, trod by Horse, lay foaming on the Plain.
From the dry Fields, thick Clouds of Dust arise,
Shade the black Host, and intercept the Skies;
The brass-hoof'd Steeds tumultuous plunge and bound,
And the thick Thunder beats the lab'ring Ground.
POPE'S Homer.
DOMESTICK Peace was once more established, and the late confused and distracted Kingdom now more sensibly felt the Joys of publick Tranquillity.
THE War with
France
still raged in
Flanders,
and required the Presence of those Troops, which a Rebellion had compelled to withdraw from their Allies, and the necessary Orders were dispatched for embarking sundry Corps. Mr.
Conyers
was presented to a Troop of Dragoons under these Orders. He now equipt himself in a much better Manner, and was so employed, that he had not Time to visit his Friends; but contented himself with tender Letters to Mr.
Sampson,
Colonel
Manly,
and Doctor
Grace.
—When the Regiments were compleated, the final Orders were given, and Captain
Conyers
attended his Duty.
HE certainly observed a profound Silence on the Military Operations, for I only found some Orderly Books, written in his own Hand, which, undoubtedly, every Officer ought to do.
FOR the Marches and Encampments of the Army, I must refer to the Gazettes of the Time.—As I ever consult the Ease of my Reader, he will not condemn my Silence, when he considers I have no Lights to guide either Him or myself into Affairs so much above our Knowledge.—However I must follow the Glimmerings I have, and pursue him through his Variety of Marches and foraging Parties, till I find him encamped near
Maestricht.
I must attend him in crossing the
Maese
with the Army, and encamping in the Vicinity of the
French,
but, even to the Night before the last Battle, I have nothing particular to mention.—This Night, indeed, an Affair happened, which makes so material a Part of this History, that compels a Recital, tho' with my usual Brevity.
THE Captain had been ordered, with Detachments from other Regiments, on a Command to
Venlo,
for Forage. Disputes frequently happen on these Occasions, which the Commanding Officer must be extremely careful to prevent.—By an Officer's insisting to be served out of his Tour, a Quarrel began: The Clamour was great; but the
Captain
running to the Spot, exerted his Authority, and directed the Forage in the proper Channel. The Officer whose Name was
Thornton,
and a Lieutenant of Dragoons, was much out of Humour, and dropt some Words, as much as to say—Captain
Conyers
would not be always at the Head of a Command!
THE Foraging being over, they returned to
Maestricht,
where the Captain found an Order, from the Adjutant-General, to join the Army as speedily as possible, after the Men and Horses were refreshed. He communicated this Order to the Officers of the Party, and directed them to join at the Port, precisely at Two o'Clock in the Morning. These Orders were given to the Men, and he invited the Officers to sup with him at the
Helmet,
and Lieutenant
Thornton
was of the Party. This Gentleman was younger than Captain
Conyers,
but in his Size, and many other Respects, extremely resembled him. He had a very good Character in the Army, but was too apt to imagine an Affront where none was intended. As he was well liked for many good Qualities, this Fault was imputed to his Youth, and Want of Experience.
LIEUTENANT
Thomas
was likewise of the Company. He was an elderly, rough Sort of a Man, who, from a low Station, had, by Accident, arrived to this Rank. He was educated, and took his Degrees, in a
Stable,
and, forgetful of the
Title
he was honoured with by
his Majesty
's Commission, swore and talked as if still a Dragoon.—This Gentleman began the Affair of the Forage, and seemed to think that Lieutenant
Thornton
had been injured.—
By the L—d,
said he,
if any Man had served me so, I'd have shewn him the
Difference.
—Sir,
reply'd Mr. Thornton,
I know as well as any Man,
when
I am ill used, and shall take a proper Time to explain myself.'— 'Sir,
said the Captain,
who began to be warm, I don't know the Meaning of all this; but should you imagine any ill Treatment, I beg you will shew the Manner, and you shall find me vastly ready to give you every
Satisfaction
in my Power.— 'Spoke,
cry'd Thomas,
like a Gentleman, and a Man of Honour.' — Sir,
said Thornton,
since I must speak, I must tell you, I am a Gentleman of Family and Fortune, perhaps, superior to your self! You insulted me at
Venlo;
you stopt my Men in their Duty, in a rude and uncivil Manner. This, Sir, may injure my Character and Honour, and calls for immediate Satisfaction.' — 'That's right,
said Thomas,
the present Time is always the best, therefore, my Advice is, to take a cool Turn on the
Parade,
and decide the Matter like
Friends
and Men of
Honour.—Thornton
rose up, as did Captain
Conyers.
—The rest of the Company interposed, and contrary to all Mr.
Thomas
's Arguments, obliged them to sit down in Peace.
THE young Lieutenant was on fire, and the Captain almost as hot; but a little Reflection brought him to his Reason.—Gentlemen,
said the Captain,
I am sorry for this Affair, and believe I can convince Mr.
Thornton
of a mistaken
Point of Honour.
—
By the L—d,
said Thomas,
your only
best Way,
is, by the Point of the Sword.
—Sir!
said the Captain, with a strong Emphasis,
Did I affront you, too?—
No, Sir,
said Thomas,
not me.'— 'Then, Sir,
reply'd the other,
let me advise you, as you regard your Commission, or your Safety, no more to interfere in our Disputes.
—
Thomas
bit his Lips, but, prudently held his Tongue.—
Conyers
turned to Mr.
Thornton,
and said,—
You have desired Satisfaction, Sir, and it is my Duty to give it, but permit me first to say, I think you began at the wrong End. What Satisfaction could my
Life
have afforded you, or your
Death
have given me, your Family or Friends? — I hope we have had Time to reflect on the Consequences of too precipitate a Resolution.' — 'Sir,
reply'd Thornton,
the Honour of an
Officer
is a tender Point.' — 'I confess it,
said the Captain,
and therefore ought to be tenderly used.—No Satisfaction, Sir, can equal a Conviction of being in an Error. —Here, Sir, are the Orders I received, and submit to the Gentlemen present, if I exceeded them, or shewed the least Partiality.
—The Company agreed, that he could not avoid acting as he did;
and he proceeded:
—
As to your Family and Fortune, they are in this Case, quite out of the Question. I own, Sir, I was in an Hurry to prevent a Dispute; but if any Expressions of Rudeness or Incivility escaped from me, I am sorry for it, and before these Gentlemen, most heartily ask your Pardon. This, Sir, I hope, is the
rational
and just
Satisfaction
one Gentleman ought to ask of another; if
more
is required, I must comply, tho' with Reluctance.
ALL the Company, except
Lieutenant Thomas,
who was asleep, cryed out, —
No Gentleman can desire more,
and greatly praised
Captain Conyers.
— Mr.
Thornton
confessed his Error, excused himself for his Rashness, and begged that no more might be said about it.—The
Captain,
affectionately embracing him, wish'd for an Opportunity of shewing his Regard and Friendship.—
What Pity it is,
said he,
that
trivial
and
insignificant
Words should raise our Anger, to the Destruction of our
Peace
and
Happiness,
and that Incendiaries are not more severely punished.— Had not this good Company been more prudent than
Two of us,
and honester than a
Third,
One might, by this Time, have slept with his Fathers, and perhaps both. — But, come, Gentlemen, let us prepare for Duty where
real Honour
calls. Let us fight with the
common Enemy,
but never amongst ourselves. — One Bottle more and then.' — 'And then,
said Mr. Thornton,
have at the
French.
— They finished two Bottles with great Harmony, and often drank Success to the DUKE, and precisely at the Time appointed, marched out of
Maestricht,
and soon arrived at the Camp.
THIS proved a very
busy Day,
and made the small Village of LAWFELD Famous.— Those who desire an Account of the Battle, must not apply to me, for my whole Attention is taken up with Capt.
Conyers.
— When our
Dragoons
were ordered to Charge, the
Captain
did singular Service. He rescued his Major, and a Lieutenant-Colonel of another Regiment.—He stopped several Parties who were driving to their Ruin, and directed them where to turn their Swords. — His
Head
and his
Hands
were at Work, and in short, as the
French
Memoir Writers phrase it,
He performed Prodigies
of
Valour.
—In the Midst of this, he saw Lieutenant
Thornton,
with the greatest Bravery, waging unequal War, for he was surrounded by three Cavaliers. —In an Instant, he flew to his Relief, and effectually took Care of one. By this Time Mr.
Thornton
was wounded in many Places, and on the Ground; the
Captain
received a violent Blow on his Head, and two Wounds on his left Shoulder. His Horse was shot, but he manfully defended the Body of his Friend on Foot. Finding the Foe encreased, he desired
Quarters,
and resigned his Sword to an Officer who had just come up.—At first he imagined Mr.
Thornton
was killed; but observing some Signs of Life, he persuaded some of the
French
to carry him to a Place of Safety, and was conducted along with him by the Officer, who was a Gentleman of great Humanity. All possible Care was taken of both; and, the Action over, they were sent to
Tongres
with other Prisoners.
THE Gentleman to whom he had surrendered, was the
Marquis de Brissac,
Colonel of a Regiment of Dragoons. His Politeness and good Manners, corresponded with his Quality. He daily visited the Captain, and procured him and Mr.
Thornton
every Necessary.—The Lieutenant had been severely treated, having no less than seven Wounds in the Head, Shoulders, and Body. Two of them were dangerous, but his Youth and good Constitution surmounted the Difficulty. In three Weeks the Surgeons declared him in a fair Way of Recovery; but it would require great Time.
THE
Marquis
was extremely pleased, and expressed himself very genteely on the Occasion. He assured him, that assisting two such valiant Gentlemen was the highest Proof of his good Fortune.—
Tho' I was not,
said he,
a Witness of your Bravery, I am sure it must have been great, but the Courage of the
Captain
in defending you, is what I shall ever esteem and admire him for. To his Valour you really owe your Life, more than to my Endeavours to save it.
AS our two Prisoners recovered their Strength, the
Marquis
introduced them to the
Duke d'Ayen,
with other Officers of Family and Distinction, and every Politeness and Respect was paid them.— They had now their own Servants and Necessaries, and a Credit for Money. In two Months Capt.
Conyers
was in good Health, but his Left Arm was useless. He got Permission, on his Parole, to go to his Regiment, but promised his Friend to return soon, and, if possible, go with him to
Aix-la-Chapelle,
which was necessary for both.
CAPTAIN
Conyers
was received with the greatest Joy by his Corps, and highly honoured by his Superiors. He spoke of Mr.
Thornton
in so noble a Manner, that the DUKE gave him a Troop of Dragoons, and Permission to both, to go to
Aix,
or where they thought proper, to establish their Healths. Capt.
Thornton
was extremely sensible of the Bounty and Goodness of
his Royal Highness,
and affectionately embracing
Conyers,
called him his
Father, Brother
and
Preserver,
and vow'd a perpetual Friendship. Capt.
Conyers
was not behind Hand, and promis'd to attend him, and, if possible, never to part.
AS soon as Capt.
Thornton
was able to travel, the Friends took their Leave of the
Marquis de Brissac,
the
Duke d'Ayen,
and others, in the politest Terms, and testified their Gratitude for all the Civilities received. Capt.
Thornton
could not think of going to
Aix
till he had paid his Duty to the
Duke,
and kissed that Hand which had so nobly rewarded his little Services. He met with a most gracious Reception, and in a few Days left the Camp.
CAPT.
Thornton
was the Second Son of Sir
Roger Thornton,
a Gentleman of large Fortune in
Ireland
and in
Essex,
and a Member of the House of Commons. He was about Twenty-four Years of Age, spoke
French
and
Italian
perfectly well, and understood
Drawing,
and those Branches of the Mathematicks, so necessary to every Officer who chooses to distinguish himself. Sir
Roger
allowed him Three Hundred Pounds a Year, but on this Occasion he very liberally supplied him. He wrote Capt.
Conyers
a most obliging Letter, for his Son had informed him of the Obligations he lay under. The young Captain received many Letters from his Uncle the
Earl of Mountworth,
in which Mr.
Conyers
was always honourably mentioned.
CAPT.
Thornton
recovered very slowly, and Capt.
Conyers
's Arm proved much worse than was at first imagined. They stayed a long Time at
Aix-la-Chapelle
and
Spa,
and were determined to go to
England;
but the Peace being just signed, they changed their Resolution, and set out for
France.
CHAP. XV.
Of all the Virtues,
Justice
is the best;
Valour, without it, is a common Pest:
Pyrates and Thieves, too oft with Courage grac'd,
Shew us how ill that Virtue may be plac'd:
'Tis our Complexion makes us chaste or brave;
Justice
from Reason, and from Heav'n we have:
All other Virtues dwell but in the Blood;
That in the Soul, and gives the Name of Good.
WALLER.
ON their Arrival at
Paris,
they hired very grand Apartments in the best
Hotel.
In a few Days they were prepared to visit the
Marquis de Brissac
and the Duke
d'Ayen,
who received them with Marks of the greatest Respect and Esteem. They were visited in Return, and soon made acquainted with the Families of the First Distinction. The
Marquis
recommended the ablest Surgeon, and they went on very successfully under his Care.
THEY had been about a Month at
Paris,
when one Day Capt.
Conyers
took it into his Head to dress himself as formerly, and dine at the
old Ordinary.
The People of the House immediately recollected him, and were much rejoiced at his Return— It seems
Paris
had greatly miss'd the
English Guineas
that so plentifully roll'd about before the War, and now promised themselves that
my Lord Anglais
would soon pay the Expence of all their
Fireworks
and Illuminations.—He found none of his former Acquaintances at Table; but after Dinner he begg'd the good Woman would accept of a Pot of Coffee, and enquired after them.
MONSIEUR
Maquereau, said she,
had very bad Fortune at
Play,
and was so reduced, that for some Time he lived on the Women of the Town; but at last he got
Religion
into his Head, and went into
La Trappe.
—The
Chevalier Fanfaron
was very unlucky, for about a Year ago he
died of his Wounds.
'—I suppose,
said Conyers,
the
Chevalier
had an Affair of Honour, and fell by it.' — 'All I know,
said the Landlady,
is, the
Chevalier
killed a Gentleman one Night on
Pont-Neuf,
and was so unfortunate as to be taken and
broke Alive
on the Wheel, at
the Greve.'
—'So much for the Chevalier,
said the Captain,
but you don't tell me a Word of my good Friend
Monsieur Pensé.
I hope no Accident has happened to him.'— 'Ah, poor Gentleman!
said she,
indeed, he is greatly to be pity'd. 'Tis now just two Years since the
Archers
got into his Lodgings, took him out of Bed, seized all his Papers and Effects, and carry'd them to the
Bastile.
God knows if he be dead or alive. Somebody said he was a
Spy
for the
English,
and so the poor good Man was ruined.
THE Captain enquired for no more, but finished the Coffee, thank'd the good Woman, and went in a Hurry to his Lodgings. He was vastly moved at the Fate of
Pensé,
and determin'd to try his Interest to save him, if it was not too late.—He soon dress'd, and follow'd Captain
Thornton
to the
Marquis
's, where he had dined. The Company were informed of the Morning
dishabillé
and imputed it, and his long Stay, to some Affair of
Gallantry,
on which he was heartily railly'd. He railly'd in his Turn, and the Conversation fell into the usual Channel. The Duke
d'Ayen
came in soon after, and in a little Time the whole Company went to the
Opera.
CAPTAIN
Conyers
took Care to place himself next to the
Duke,
and at last found an Opportunity of mentioning the Case of
Pensé.
He concluded with assuring his Lordship, that he held the Office of a
Spy
in the utmost Contempt:
But,
said he,
this unhappy Man has formerly render'd me more Services than I can ever repay; therefore I hope your Lordship will consider the Gratitude I owe, and grant a Favour to me, and not to him.'—'I protest,
said the Duke,
I never heard of this Man, but all in my Power you may command. I shall speak to my Father,
(Marshal Noailles)
and interest myself to the utmost. Should I succeed, you shall soon hear of it, but my
Silence
will convince you of the Impossibility.
CONYERS pass'd four Days in great Anxiety, but the fifth he had a Visit from the
Duke,
who, after some Conversation, told him, his Friend was alive.—
Then, my Lord,
said the Captain,
so am I. This is a great Point gain'd; but I hope more remains.'— 'Yes,
reply'd the Duke,
I will not keep you longer in Suspence. The
Marshal
with some Difficulty, undertook the Cause, and I have brought you an Order to the
Governor,
to deliver Mr.
Pensé
and all his Effects, into your Hands, but with this Injunction, that he quits
Paris
in twenty-four Hours, and
France
in a Week.
—The Captain took the Order, and most heartily thank'd the Duke.—
I know not,
said this Nobleman,
how
Pensé
escaped, for he has been a most notorious Offender; but his Art was great, and by little Discoveries protracted his Time so long, that I believe, at last, they were ashamed to hang him. —But I see you are impatient to be the Messenger of good News, and shall only add, that I expect you To-morrow at Dinner.
—He was in the highest Delight, and immediately drove to the
Bastile,
accompanied by Capt.
Thornton.
THE proper Compliments being paid to the
Governor,
the Captain mentioned Mr.
Pensé,
but was answer'd civilly, tho' in a cold unsatisfactory Manner.—
Sir,
said the Captain,
I believe I have a Paper in my Hand, that will convince you I am not here to ask impertinent Questions.
— When the Governor had read and carefully examin'd the
Order,
he behaved quite in another Manner, and directed a Servant to call Mr.
Pensé
to him.—He spoke much of the poor Man, but seem'd to hint, that all Things consider'd, he had surprising good Fortune.—
Pensé
was conducted into the Chamber, but his Countenance was so changed, that his Friend scarcely knew him.—He bow'd and trembled. — A small Silence intervened, but, fixing his Eyes intently on Captain
Conyers,
and, at last, crediting their Evidence, he cry'd out.—
It is he,
and flew to his Arms. He hung on his Neck. He had not Words to testify his Amazement. He clasp'd him, and was in an Agony of Joy, till Tears moderated the Excess. He sobb'd, and ask'd broken Questions, every Moment embracing his Friend.—The Scene was very moving, nor could the
Captain
refrain the manly honest Tribute of a Tear.
THE Governor told Mr.
Pensé,
that he was at Liberty to go with the Gentlemen. That his Papers were sealed up, as was the Value of his Effects in a Box, which he might take with him; but gave him the Orders about quitting the Kingdom. — Mr.
Pensé
made many Compliments, but seem'd to wish he was out of the Walls, which Half an Hour saw done; and the Captain conducted him to his Lodgings.
AS his Time was to be short in
Paris,
they abridg'd a thousand Questions to each other, and reserved them for a more favourable Opportunity, only the
Captain
mention'd the Situation he was in, as to Rank and Fortune, which gave the old Man a most sensible Pleasure. — They now examin'd his
Finances,
and found he had a Remainder of six hundred Pounds
Sterling.
They debated on the Application of the Money, but found, that the mere Interest would by no Means afford him a decent Maintenance. —
My dear Friend,
said Pensé,
let me settle this Affair.— Take the Money, and allow me what you think proper, by way of Pension, during my Life.
—Be it so,
reply'd the Captain,
and immediately he drew up a little Instrument, and gave him a Letter to his Banker in
London,
to honour his Bills for
twenty-five Pounds for every three Months.
—Poor
Pensé
once more shed Tears, and could only add —
You are too good, and I am too happy.
MANY Towns were proposed for his Residence, for to
England
he could not safely go, and the Captain fixed on
Brussels
as a cheap and agreeable Place. Matters being thus adjusted, they pass'd the Remainder of the Day to their mutual Satisfaction; and next Morning
Pensé
bid Adieu to his faithful Friend, and took the Coach to
Lisle,
but not before the Captain had obliged him to accept of
Forty Pieces.
PERHAPS I ought to extol the Goodnature of Capt.
Conyers:
— To paint his Friendship in the brightest Colours, and to shew the Amiableness and Self-Satisfaction of a grateful Heart.—By so doing, should I not deprive my Reader of the Pleasure of doing it himself? — When I consult my own Ease, 'tis only with a View of indulging his Judgment.
CHAP. XVI.
— His curdling Blood forgot to glide;
Confusion on his fainting Vitals hung,
And fault'ring Accents flutter'd on his Tongue.
GARTH.
CAPT.
Thornton
was not yet quite cured; for his Wounds, by some little Irregularities, had frequently opened. Capt.
Conyers
was perfectly recover'd; and as his Regiment had been for some Time in
England,
he began to consider that his Duty required his Presence. Whilst he was preparing to attend it, he received a Letter that gave him Pain and Pleasure. In short, the Regiment was
broke.
He was now his own Master, and determin'd to stay with his Friend till he was quite fit to Travel.
SINCE, said he, that I am now at full Liberty, and have an easy Fortune, ought I not to think on those Friends to whom I owe my very Being? Perhaps that dear good Man Mr.
Kindly,
or some of his Family may want my Assistance.— Perhaps I may be useful to the worthy Lord
Truegood,
or his charming Sons. Heavens! what a Joy must I not feel at contributing to their Satisfaction! What Pleasure will they not receive at seeing their little
Jack
completely happy! — Ought I not to think on my Mother? Ought I not to seek her out, and relieve her Distresses? and have I not neglected these Duties too long?
—Such Thoughts made him glow with alternate Shame and Pleasure, and determin'd him to visit
Ireland
as soon as possible.
THE Captains pass'd their Time in
Paris
in the most agreeable Manner, and were much respected by the Ladies. I find a few Hints that persuade me, they were not without Amusements of a delicate Nature; but as the Papers are silent as to the Particulars, so must I.
IT happen'd that Capt.
Magragh
of Lord
Clare
's Regiment, had lately taken Apartments in the same
Hotel.
This Gentleman thought it his Duty to pay his Respects to the two
English
Officers, and made them a very civil Visit. They received him in a polite Manner, and in an Hour's Conversation found out his
Rank
and his Character. He was of a lively Soldier-like Disposition, and very communicative. His Father had quitted
Ireland,
and follow'd the Fortune of
King James the Second.
He was born in
France,
but spoke
English
with a prodigious
Irish
Accent, tho' he had never been in that Kingdom. He told them of the vast Estate his Father lost in
Ireland,
and how near he was, the other Day, of recovering it. He spoke of the War in
Germany
and in
Flanders,
and gave them a History of his own Exploits. He mentioned the Valour of the
Irish,
and without considering the
French Policy,
seem'd to glory in their being sent foremost on the most desperate Attacks. His Conversation, and the Oddity of his Language, was agreeable enough, and made our Friends desire a further Acquaintance.
IN a few Days he invited them to a genteel Supper, with two other Officers of the
Irish Brigade.
The Chat turn'd on War, and Capt.
Magragh
spoke very eloquently on
Sieges
and
Battles,
for he could really speak on little else.—One of the Officers, in a laughing Way, mention'd something of an unfortunate Expedition into
Spain,
which obliged the Captain to enlarge upon it.
Gentlemen,
said he,
I must tell you my fatal Story. You must know, that my Father's Brother, that is, my Uncle by the
Father's Side,
was a Merchant at
Cadiz.
He was as rich as a thousand
Jews,
and always promised to make me his
Son and Heir,
but — the Devil fire all Priests! About seventeen or eighteen Years ago, a Son of a Whore, one
Father Kelly,
came over from
Ireland,
and brought his Sister with him. She was the Widow of one
Squire Connor,
and young and handsome enough. What will you have of it, but my foolish Uncle got acquainted with this
Father Kelly
and his Sister, and by my own
Sowle
he married her. To be sure I wrote to my Uncle, and
towld
him what a
Fool
he was, and what a
Rogue
he was to cheat a Gentleman
like me,
and his own
Flesh
and
Blood.
The old Fellow was very saucy, and by my own
Sowle
I had a great Mind to go to
Spain
and
beat his Coat.
Well, Gentlemen, about two Years agon I got a Letter from a Friend at
Cadiz,
that my Uncle was growing sickly; so I took Post, thinking to make it up with him, but by my
Sowle,
I
was late,
for the old
Teef
hid himself under Ground. Now, will you believe it? The Devil take me, and I swear by him that made me, if the old Rogue left me a
grey Groat.
I spoke to
Madam my Aunt,
and
towld
her of my Journey, and my great Expences, and of the Wrong she did me, and the like, and only begg'd her to let us fairly divide the Money betwixt us. The Lady began to laugh, but said, she had some Commiseration on me, and made some fine Speeches; but the Devil a Farthing would she give but
four hundred Pistoles.
I took the Money, and giving her a hearty Curse, wish'd her and her
thirty thousand Pound
at Hell.'—'You had hard Fortune, indeed,
said Capt. Thornton;
but perhaps she may make you Amends some Time or other.'
Sir, reply'd Magragh,
I shall never trouble her
no more.
I am now a Captain in the
first best
Regiment in
Europe;
I have the
Cross of St. Lewis,
which the King gave me, because I
wouldn't
be kill'd at
Philipsbourg,
and I have a
Royal
Donation of
three hundred Livres
a Year; so, my Dear, what do I want? I love my Friends, and my good Friends love me; and I vow to God, I am as happy as the
King himself,
God bless him. I love my Countrymen the
Irish,
and I love the
English
well enough, but
Faith and Sowle,
they are too hard upon us.
CAPTAIN
Thornton
observ'd a peculiar Gravity in the Countenance of his Friend, and thought, by changing the Current of Conversation, to remove it. He try'd many Ways, but
Conyers
seem'd lost in Thought. His Silence gave a serious Turn to the Company, and they broke up much sooner than was intended.
NEXT Morning Captain
Thornton
had a very early Visit from Mr.
Conyers,
for he had not slept. —
My dear
Thornton, said he,
you must wonder at my Behaviour, but I insist on your Friendship, and beg you will not require an Explanation of the only Thing I cannot divulge.
—
Thornton
imagin'd a Quarrel, and rose in a Hurry to stop his going out of the Room. His Friend could not forbear laughing at his serious Figure, but assuring him on his Honour, that a Quarrel was the least in his Thoughts, the other was pacify'd and returned to his Bed.—
I am,
said Conyers,
in the oddest Situation, perhaps, ever Man was in. I am far from unhappy; but some Doubts and Anxieties so much torment me, that I cannot be at Peace till they are satisfy'd.' 'Dear
Conyers, said the other,
I hope you will indulge me with my Share of what gives you Uneasiness; I think I have a just Claim to it.—'I believe,
reply'd Conyers,
your Friendship is sincere; but my Case is of such a Nature, that as you cannot assist me, I must only desire your Patience.
HE revolv'd a thousand Projects to bring about his Affair in the properest Manner. He remember'd
Father Kelly,
and call'd back every Circumstance of his Childhood so clearly, that he had not the least Doubt but Mrs.
Magragh
was his Mother.—He reflected on her Features, and brought her Face familiar to his Imagination. He own'd she had not been the tenderest of Parents, but
Nature
spoke, and threw her Faults into the most favourable Light. He ardently wish'd to embrace her, and, as his filial Affection arose, the tender Tear fell down his Cheeks. The good, the humane Heart, will not call this an unmanly Weakness. — The Sensations of his Soul were natural, and the result of an honest Mind. At last he determin'd on a Journey to
Cadiz,
and went immediately to Mr.
Waters,
his Banker, for proper Letters.
WHILST he was speaking to this Gentleman on the necessary Credit he might want, he took an Opportunity of asking him if he knew Mr.
Magragh,
who had been a Merchant at
Cadiz.
Yes, Sir,
reply'd Mr. Waters,
extremely well, for he was my Correspondent many Years.' I hear,
said the Captain,
he has left a Widow, and should be glad to know if she be alive.' 'She was so, very lately,
answer'd the Banker,
for I have had Letters from her about some Effects remaining in my Hands. I assure you, she is a very notable Woman, and vastly rich.' As for her Riches,
said Conyers,
I have nothing to say; but you would much oblige me, by recommending me to her Notice and good Offices, in a friendly Manner; and likewise for another Letter, wherein you will please to mention me as her
near Relation.
This last I shall only make Use of, in case I find her really so.
Mr.
Waters
very readily comply'd, and promis'd to be very secret in the Affair.
CAPTAIN
Conyers
was now much easier in his Mind, and the Alteration in his Conduct, gave a very sensible Pleasure to his Friend, but it was of short Duration, for he inform'd him, that he was oblig'd to set out immediately for
Madrid,
where his Stay should be as short as possible. Captain
Thornton
was oblig'd to acquiesce, and Preparations were made for his Journey. The
Marquis de Brissac
was surpriz'd at the Project of Mr.
Conyers,
but got him Recommendatory Letters to the
French Minister,
and advis'd his travelling with the King's Messenger, especially as he seem'd in Haste. — A Messenger was dispatch'd the Week following, who had Orders to take particular Care of the Captain.—He took a Servant with him, and, with some Reluctance, bid adieu to his Friends.
CHAP. XVII.
Now, by my Soul, and by these hoary Hairs,
I'm so o'erwhelm'd with Pleasure, that I feel
A later Spring within my wither'd Limbs,
That shoots me out again.
DRYDEN'S
Don. Seb.
AN Account of a Journey,
Post,
must be very unsatisfactory to a Reader, and tire and fatigue him as much as the Traveller. I shall, therefore, avoid the dry, insipid Relation, and beg of him to suppose, that no Accident happen'd on the Road, and that our Captain got safe to
Madrid
in the usual Time. I shall omit the Civilities shew'd by the
French Minister,
who advis'd him, in the best Manner, for his further Journey to
Cadiz.
He was impatient to be there, and so am I.
ON his Arrival, he waited on Mr.
Fitzgerald,
the Merchant, on whom he had a Credit. This Gentleman received him in the most courteous Manner, and insisted on his accepting an Apartment in his House. In a Day or two, Captain
Conyers
made an Enquiry about Mrs.
Magragh,
and mention'd a Letter he had for her. The Merchant told him, she was an intimate Friend, and offering to accompany him, they immediately paid her a Visit.— Judge, gentle Reader, the Emotions of his Soul, when Mr.
Fitzgerald
presented him to his
Mother,
for such she really was.— Tho' he was determin'd in his Conduct, and had put on every Resolution, yet he trembled and grew pale when he saluted her; but recovering himself, he attributed his Tremor to the Fatigue of his Journey, which was easily credited. Mrs.
Magragh
read the Letter, and with great Politeness, assur'd him of her Respects, and Readiness to serve him. They din'd that Day at Mr.
Fitzgerald
's, and the Captain endeavour'd to make himself as agreeable as possible, and few Men could be more so. He observ'd, that every Body paid Mrs.
Magragh
a particular Respect; that she was vastly improved, and spoke with great Strength of Reason and Sense, tho' in her former Tone of Voice.
Time
had added a few Wrinkles to her Brow, but had taken away very little of the Beauty of her Complexion. — He frequently caught himself too earnestly looking at her, and very often met her Eyes.
NEXT Day the Company din'd at her House. Mirth and Good-humour abounded, and each strove who should add most. Mrs.
Magragh
shew'd a more than common Civility to the Captain, and often repeated, that he had much of the Air of a Gentleman who had been a very
dear Friend
to her and her Family. In a Word, she became familiar, which still made her more agreeable.
MR. FITZGERALD ask'd, when they got home, What he had done to the Widow?
For,
said he,
she told me in
Spanish,
that you had such a
Face,
and such a
Voice,
she could scarce keep her Eyes off of you. Faith, Captain,
continued he,
'twould be very unkind to snap up one of our
greatest Fortunes
at so short a Warning, when she has held out half a Dozen
regular Sieges.
— Mrs.
Fitzgerald
a little raillied him,
But I assure you,
said she,
without a Jest, I never saw Mrs.
Magragh
so free, and so pleas'd with a Gentleman in all my Life.
—The Captain laugh'd in his Turn, and each had somewhat to say.
HE thought Matters were pretty ripe for an Explanation, and as Mrs.
Magragh
had given him a general Invitation, he determin'd on a Visit, and, if possible, to open the Scene. Next Morning he went to Breakfast with her, and was very kindly received. When the ordinary Chat was over, and her Maid had retir'd, he began to put his Scheme in Practice, but not without many Hesitations.—
Madam,
said he,
I never thought to be so much beholden to my Friend Mr.
Waters,
as I find I am, by being introduc'd to a Lady of your Merit, who has certainly afforded me more Joy than ever I expected to receive.' — 'This other Letter, Madam, will a little help me in what I am to say.'—'She took the Letter, and very attentively read it, and her Eyes seem'd to examine him as carefully.'—'This Letter, Sir,
said she,
informs me, that you are my Relation. I cannot say the contrary, but I protest I am at a Loss how it can be. I own I have a very particular Regard for you on account of my Friend's hearty Recommendation.— I confess my Esteem for your Person and Behaviour, and as you appear a Gentleman, I should be sorry to change my Conduct, by your going on any erroneous Project.' — 'Give me Leave, Madam,
reply'd the Captain,
to assure you on my Honour, I have no Views, other than paying the greatest Respect and
Duty
where I so naturally owe them.' — 'I should think myself,
said she,
extremely happy to have a Relation of your
Character
and
Figure.
Tho' I cannot imagine such a Thing possible, yet I own there is something that makes me wish it, therefore, I beg Sir, you will inform me, and doubt not but it will be to our mutual Satisfaction.
IS it possible, Madam,
said he,
that twenty Years can have worn out all Remembrance of my Face?—Can you forget our wretched Situation on the
Common
in
Ireland?
—Can my poor
blind Father
—'Stop, Sir,
cry'd she,
for Heaven's Sake! — I know not what to think! Good God! —Pray, have Patience, and let me recover my Breath.
—Her Agony was extreme, and he was oblig'd to support her to the Window for Air. —
Gracious Heaven,
said she at last,
I dare not hope for such a Blessing, but let me beseech you, Sir, to pull down your right Stocking.
— He instantly obey'd, and when she discover'd a large Mole on his Leg, (which he had never observ'd) Yes!
cry'd she,
'It is my
dearest,
my ill-us'd
Son.'
—Oh,
Jack!
— and clasping him in her Arms in Transport, was, for some Moments depriv'd of every Sense. He embrac'd her with the sincerest Affection, and, for a long While, neither could utter a Syllable.
ONCE more I must indulge the Imagination of the kind Reader, and permit him to supply, from his own natural Stock, what mine is defective in.—Let him call forth every
tender Idea.
Let him think on the
Affection
of a
Parent;
on the
Love
of a
Child,
and, if he can, let him conceive the mighty Joy at recovering our
long lost darling Hopes.
Let him do this, and it is possible he may have some
faint Idea
of what this poor Woman felt. But to paint convulsive Motions, to mark the alternate Complexion, and to set down every dropping passionate Word, is not in the Power of Mr.
Le Sage, Crebillon, Fielding,
or even a
Ch—t—f—d.
—When the
good-natur'd
Reader has finish'd his private Reflections, I beg he will go one Step farther, and bring back the
Mother
and
Son
to their wonted Sense and Understanding.
MY dearest
Jack, said she,
I have treated you barbarously.—Indeed I have,— but I shall try to atone for all my Sins. God has been bountiful to you, and most merciful to me! — I have not merited his Goodness, but shall endeavour to deserve his Favour.—I hope I shall.—But, my
dear Jack,
give me some Account of yourself. Tell me of all your Accidents; how you arriv'd to the honourable Station I see you in, and why your Name is
Conyers.
—Tell me all, my dear Child, and I shall most faithfully recount, tho' I blush for it, every Part of my Life since we parted.— Oh, my Son! Could you have known the Trouble, my Usage to you has given me, you would pity an unhappy Woman.—But, tell me, my dear
Jack,
can you forgive me?—I fear it is impossible.'—'My Conduct,
said he,
shall convince my
dearest Mother,
that I have forgot all Things, but my
Duty
and my
Love.'
—Then,
said she,
I am happy, and my
Love
shall reward you.—But no more now. — You must change your Quarters, and live with me.—Does Mr.
Waters
know you are my Son?'—'No, Madam,
said the Captain,
he knows no more than what I desir'd him to mention in his Letter.' — 'That's well,
said she,
neither is it necessary he should. I must not own you for my Son, as it would contradict what I have always reported, but you must be my Nephew, the Son of my Sister, which will sufficiently warrant my Affection for you.
THIS Matter being settled, they went together to Mr.
Fitzgerald
's. The Family were greatly surpris'd and pleas'd when Mrs.
Magragh
presented her Nephew. She told them the Method he took to discover himself, and all Compliments were made suitable to the Occasion. That Night he return'd to her House, and the whole Town visited and congratulated them.
CHAP. XVIII.
An unseen Hand makes all our Moves:
And some are
Great,
and some are
Small;
Some climb to
Good,
some from
good Fortune
fall;
Some
wise Men,
and some
Fools
we call;
Figures, alas! of Speech, for Destiny plays us all.
COWLEY.
NO doubt Mrs.
Magragh
was impatient to hear the Story of her Son, and begg'd he would begin, and not omit the minutest Circumstances. He obey'd, and carried her through every Scene of his Life, except a few Parts not so fit for her to hear, and concluded, by his being a Captain of Dragoons; the Accident that brought him to the Knowledge of her being alive, and how soon he determin'd to pay his Duty.—He did not mention his being on
Half-Pay,
lest she should have insisted on his staying at
Cadiz,
which he by no Means intended to do.—He recited all his Adventures in a full and clear Manner, and so pathetically worded his Sufferings, that she wept most bitterly, but, his good Fortune succeeding, a visible Joy spread over her Countenance. — She embraced him a thousand Times, and blest God for restoring to her a Son, and a Son of such
Prudence
and so many
Virtues.
Now,
said she,
my dear
Jack,
it is but just to recount my own History, and inform you of some Things that you are a Stranger to.
SHE then began from her being a Servant at Sir
Roger Thornton
's. —
In this Family,
said she,
I lived very happily. I was
young,
and tolerably
handsome,
and it pleased
Sir Roger
to think me more so than perhaps I really was. He made me Presents, seem'd very fond of me, was a mighty fine comely Gentleman; and, in short, overcome my foolish Weakness. I proved with Child, and he married me to
Jerry Connor.
You came into the World with that Name, but my dear
Jack,
your real Father was
Sir Roger Thornton.'
— 'More Wonders!
cry'd her Son,
— Is it possible! — She seem'd surprised at his Exclamations, but he inform'd her of his Intimacy with Captain
Thornton,
and of the Accident that brought on their great Friendship. She was vastly delighted with this Incident, and charm'd to find
Sir Roger
was still alive.
THIS obliged her to begin a little more particularly, and she continued her Account to the Death of
Jerry Connor,
and the Parting with her Son.—As I have placed all these Facts in the first Pages of this History, where I imagin'd they naturally came in, I must refer my Reader to them, and take up her Story where I dropt it.
THUS,
said she,
Father
Kelly
and I cohabited in a scandalous Manner; and the Proofs against us were so strong and so many, that he could not live in the Country. His Uncle the
Bishop
gave him a good Sum of Money, and a Letter to a
Prior
of a rich
Convent
in this City. He persuaded me to go with him, (and I had no Business to stay behind) but he would by no Means consent to my taking you. I was in the utmost Trouble, and could not think of parting with my Child for ever. At last he proposed sending you to his Brother's in the County of
Galway,
who would take care of your Education, and, at a certain Age, send you to
Cadiz.
—The barbarous Wretch laid the Scheme, and exposed you to perish on the Road. He was so cruel, that he never would give me the least Satisfaction, or let me know what he had done with you. I was too much depending on him to quarrel, and had no other Consolation but my frequent Tears.
WE embark'd at
Cork
in a Ship loaded with
Beef, Tallow,
and
Worsted Stuffs,
and arrived safe at this Place. It was agreed I should pass for his
Sister,
and the Widow of one Mr.
Connor
of
Clonmell.
He went to the Convent, and deliver'd his Letter to Father
Purcell
the
Prior,
where I believe he was well received, for he return'd vastly pleased. He was soon in the Habit of his
Order,
and provided me a Lodging in a good Family, and made me dress in a very decent Manner.
I KNOW not how he managed with the
Prior,
but he gave me to understand, that I must call him my
Uncle,
and be extremely civil when he visited me, and next Day I had that Honour. Father
Purcell,
or rather my
Uncle,
was a comely, grave Man, of about
Sixty,
vastly polite, and courteous, and, seemingly, of a most
religious
Deportment. However, my pious
Brother
soon hinted, that I was to be more than
merely civil
to him, if I expected to be maintain'd.—What could I do?—I was compelled to forfeit my
Honour,
that I might save my
Reputation.
In short, I comply'd, and my
Brother
and
Uncle
constantly visited me, and were
mighty tender
and
affectionate Relations.
YOU see, my dearest
Jack,
I hide not from you, even my own Shame.—How are the best Institutions perverted! but let us not condemn the
Whole
for the Wickedness of a
Few.
—Thus I lived for about four or five Months, and was visited by the best Families, and paid them in Return. I own I was not a fit Companion for People of Fortune; but as I could not converse in their Manner, I behaved with great
Modesty
and
Silence.
This procured me a general good Character, and made me pass for what I did not merit.
I HAD a Mind to try the Temper of Father
Purcell,
and one Day very gravely hinted an Apprehension of my being with Child. The
old Man
stared, and was in a strange
Dilemma,
for he had no Notion but Father
Kelly
was my real
Brother.
—He walk'd about the Room in a very pensive Manner, but at last — Well,
said he,
if my dear Widow be with Child, I must find a Father for it. —Shall I get you a Husband? — 'I have no Objection,
said I,
provided he be a good one.'—"Leave it to me,
reply'd the Prior;
but it must be done in a Hurry, and shall instantly set about it; so put on your best Airs for a Visit To-morrow Evening." — 'I took his Advice, but could not forbear laughing at the Oddity of my Scheme, and wonder'd where it would end.
FATHER PURCELL kept his Word, and introduced Mr.
Magragh.
He seem'd a plain good Sort of a Man, of about Fifty-five. He was very ceremonious and complaisant, but spoke little. In Half an Hour the
Prior
open'd a more interesting Conversation.— "My dear Niece,
said he,
my good Friend Mr.
Magragh
has often seen you, and has communicated his Sentiments to me. No Doubt you are of Age to chuse for yourself; but as I know his Integrity and Worth, I think it my Duty, as a Parent, to advise you to receive his honourable Addresses as you ought. — It will be much better than returning to
Ireland."
— 'I blush'd, and only reply'd, That I should always be guided by him.
"MADAM,
said Mr. Magragh,
I am a Man in Trade, of a good Character, and an easy Fortune. His
Reverence
has told you my Heart, which, if you will be pleased to accept, you shall command every Thing in my Power." Sir,
said I,
I doubt not your Merit, and as my Uncle is your Friend, I am sure he means an Happiness to us both, and shall submit myself to his Determination.— This,
said the Prior,
is making
Love
like People of Sense, and not like giddy Children. Come, my
dear Niece,
since you leave it to me, give me your Hand. —Here, my good Friend, I bestow you that inestimable Treasure, a
good Wife.
—Take her, and
I pray God
to bless you both."—Mr.
Magragh
embraced me very tenderly, and I behaved as I ought.
"WELL, Madam,
said the poor Man,
when shall I be happy?—When shall I call you my own?—Lord, Sir,
said I,
you are so pressing.—I believe a Month or two will be Time enough.—"A Month,
cry'd the Prior;
nay, now you spoil all. I hop'd you would have mention'd To-morrow."—"And I,
said Mr. Magragh,
was thinking on the present Minute; for my Maxim is,
Never to put off till To-morrow, what I can do To-day,"
—"'Tis a most excellent Rule,
reply'd the Prior,
and let us put it in Practice. What say you, my dear Neice?—Shall I perform the
Holy Office?"
—I blush'd, but made no Answer.—"Silence,
said he,
is a Consent, therefore let us go to Mr.
Magragh
's, send for a few Friends, and finish the Business."—"His Reverence,
said my Lover,
has been always my Friend."— With some Intreaties, I suffer'd myself to be conducted to his House, where, in the Presence of my
Brother
and two more, my good
Uncle
perform'd his
Priestly Duty,
and made me Mistress of this Habitation.
MR. MAGRAGH was really a good-natur'd inoffensive Man, and very affectionately lov'd me. I kept very good Company, I read a good deal, and wrote, and assisted him very much in his Business. By Degrees I grew very expert, and began to
think
and
talk
in a quite different Manner.—My poor Husband was extremely delighted with my Diligence and Capacity, and only wanted a
Child
to compleat his Happiness; but none came, notwithstanding the
frequent
and
fervent Prayers
of the
holy Prior
and my
pious Brother.
THUS I liv'd for about five Years, with great seeming Happiness; but your Image, and Father
Kelly
's Person, were
too often
present to make me really so. I dreaded his more than
Brotherly Love;
for he sometimes visited at very improper Seasons. I knew his Temper, and, as he began to be suspected on many Accounts, particularly for some Intrigues with
Spanish Ladies,
I was in continual Apprehensions of some fatal Accident. Nay, I much fear'd the Jealousy of the
Prior,
for he gave me some Hints. At last I miss'd the Visits of my
Brother,
and enquir'd after him from my
Uncle.
He shook his Head, but no satisfactory Answer came. I cry'd for my
Brother,
but I never saw him since.— He was either
murder'd,
or carry'd to the
Inquisition,
and I violently suspected the
Prior.
—I was really sorry for his Misfortune, but not displeas'd at the Loss of his Company. I was much more satisfy'd, when, in three Months after, my holy Uncle, Father
Purcell,
departed this Life, and left me to enjoy it with
Peace
and
real Happiness.
THESE Impediments to the Tranquility of my Mind being remov'd, I apply'd myself more closely to the Study of every Thing that might give my Husband Pleasure. I still improved, and arrived to such Perfection, that he confided all to my Care and Management; and I aver to you, my dearest
Jack,
that I never deceived him in
any Shape,
after the Death of the
Prior.
HIS Fortune increas'd very largely, and we liv'd with great
Harmony
and
Content.
The last two Years, his Infirmities made him extremely peevish; but I bore all with Patience, and assisted and attended him with the Tenderness and Duty of a
good Wife.
The Poor Man was sensible of my Regard, and, when he died, I found his Will had made me absolute Mistress of his whole Fortune.
I HAVE resisted many Sollicitations from People who call'd themselves
Lovers.
I knew the World too well, to imagine a Woman of my Years had all the Charms they pretended to find in me. I fancy I guess'd right, that my
thirty thousand Pounds
was my principal Beauty.—Now, my dear
Jack,
forget the Injury I did you, and forget my Faults, which I have most sincerely repented of, and you shall be my
Husband,
nor will I ever have another.—Tho' we are, unhappily, of different
Religions,
yet, believe me, I am not so bigotted to mine, as to desire a Change in your's. I have learnt by Experience, that the true
End
and
Use
of
Religion,
is to make us
good, virtuous,
and
charitable.
—Since your
Religion
has taught you the Practice of those
great Duties,
Why should I wish you to alter? No, my dear
Jack,
keep strictly to, and be faithful in it.—My Religion did not make me wicked; it was my
Weakness
and my Ignorance. Thank
God,
I am now wiser. I find, my dear Child, that your Duty will soon call you from me; but to convince you of the Sincerity of my Love, half my Fortune is this Moment your's. When all my Affairs are settled, I will follow you to
England,
and you shall command the Remainder, allowing me four hundred Pounds a Year during my Life; which will be more than I shall have Occasion for. I hope my dearest
Jack
is now convinc'd, that I make every Satisfaction in my Power, and that I at last prove myself a tender and affectionate Mother.
THE
Captain
most ardently embrac'd her, and return'd every Acknowledgement that so much Goodness deserv'd. She set about her Promise immediately, and, in a short Time, gave him Bills on
London
for
fifteen thousand Pounds.
WHILST these Matters were transacting, he received a Letter from his Friend
Thornton,
declaring his Unhappiness without him, and pressing his Return. He likewise received Letters from Colonel
Manly,
and Doctor
Grace.
These gave him great Concern, for they inform'd him of the Death of his old Master, good Mr.
Sampson.
He had requested his Wife to settle the Fortune on Captain
Conyers,
at her Death, and she had most generously executed the proper Deeds, reserving
two thousand
Pounds to dispose of as she thought proper.
HE acquainted his Mother with these Matters, and how necessary his Presence was, to take Care of his
Estate,
and his Military Post. She confess'd the Reasonableness of his Desires, and promising to part with him, with as little Regret as possible, he prepared to set out, the first Opportunity, by Sea, to
Marseilles.
SHE gave him many useful Instructions, and advis'd him to Secrecy with Regard to his Family, and the Obsurity of his Birth. —
Tho',
said she,
you are in Fact more Praise-worthy, by having made your Fortune with a fair Character, than had it descended from your Father; yet the World is made of such
envious Stuff,
they take Pleasure in lessening the Virtues of others; yet it is certain
he rises the Higher with the sensible Part of the World, the Lower he sprung from.
YOUR Fortune, my dear Son,
continued she,
will be now very considerable, but let me beg of you to believe, that
no Fortune
can stand long against
bad Management.
Be an
Oeconomist,
and put your Affairs in so regular a Channel, that, in an Instant, you may know your
Income
and your
Expences.
Without Regularity, all will be in Confusion. Let your
Accounts
and your
Watch
be wound up punctually to a Time, or both will go wrong.—Avoid a Number of idle and superfluous
Servants,
that
eat
out an Estate; keep from expensive
Schemes
and Projects; and trouble, or rather please, the
Lawyers
as little as possible.—Determine to be
happy,
for you know the Means.—One Word more, and I have done.—I guess at your Constitution by your Complexion, therefore I advise you to
marry,
but submit the Manner to your own Prudence.
HE was often astonish'd how she came to
reason, speak
and
write
so correctly, and could not avoid asking her the Question. —
It is not,
said she,
so difficult a Matter as you imagine, though we must have some Assistance from Nature.—I very severely felt the Want of these Accomplishments, and resolv'd, if possible, to acquire them.—I told you I read much. I got good Authors, and apply'd closely to them. They gave me Sentiments I was a Stranger to. I improv'd considerably by the Help of Company, but my own
Project
vastly shorten'd my Labour. I set myself a Task every Day, and carefully wrote out two or three Pages of the
Spectator, Guardian,
and other sensible Works, so that in a short Time I became Mistress of their
Stile
and
Manner,
had always something to say in Conversation, and spelt well, without the Assisstance of a Grammar. Besides, the Accounts I kept, and the Numbers of Letters I wrote, made these Matters familiar to me.—This may serve to shew you,
That a little Pains and Industry in the Beginning, prevents a vast Deal of Trouble and Labour in the End.
IF Captain
Conyers
was pleas'd at finding his
Mother,
he was prodigiously more so, at discovering in her all the Marks of
good Sense
and
Prudence.
—He remitted his Money to his Correspondent in
London,
but at the same Time acquainted Colonel
Manly
of it, and added a Codicil to his Will. He wrote to all his Friends, and promis'd to join them as soon as possible.
A GOOD Ship being now ready to sail, he paid his Respects to all his Acquaintances at
Cadiz,
and made some genteel Presents, particularly to the Family of Mr.
Fitzgerald.
—All were concern'd at losing so polite a Companion, and he was loaded with Praises and Caresses. His Mother could not bear it with that Resignation she at first thought; but however, she rais'd her Spirits, and, with many Blessings, saw him set Sail.
THE Voyage was prosperous, and he arrived at
Marseilles
safe, and in good Health. He took Post for
Paris,
and once more embrac'd his dear Friend Capt.
Thornton,
after an Absence of eight Months.
CHAP. XIX.
Thou
Brother of my Choice:
A Band more sacred
Than Nature's brittle Tie.
By holy Friendship,
Glory and Fame stood still for thy Arrival;
My Soul seem'd wanting of its better Half,
And languish'd for thy Absence; like a Prophet
That waits the Inspiration of his God.
ROWE
'S Tamerlane.
HE found
Paris
extremely crouded with
English,
and began to think, that the Scheme of Doctor
Grace,
for
a Duty on the Exportation of our Nobility and Gentry,
would yield a much larger Revenue than could be well imagin'd.—Capt.
Thornton
was quite recover'd, and had waited a Month extraordinary.—
I assure you,
said he,
I almost despair'd of you, and was just preparing to set out with my Cousin Lord
Truegood.'
—'Lord Truegood!
cry'd Captain Conyers in a Hurry.'
—'Yes,
reply'd the other, Lord Truegood,
my Uncle, the
Earl of Mountworth's
Son.— Do you know him?'—'No,
answer'd Conyers,
but the Similitude of a Name I have a great Respect for, certainly gave me a Flutter.'—'Now I think of it,
said Thornton,
you could not know him, at least by this
Title,
for his Father was created an
Earl
but since the
Rebellion.
— I promise you, my Cousin is well worth your Acquaintance.
—Just then
Lord Truegood
enter'd.—
My Lord,
said Thornton,
give me Leave to present to you my dearest and most worthy Friend Captain
Conyers,
and I insist on your loving him as well as I do.'—'It always affords me,
said my Lord,
the highest Satisfaction to be known to Gentlemen of your distinguish'd Worth and Merit, and wish I may deserve the Honour of your Friendship.'—'If it be an Honour,
said Conyers,
what must mine be, should your Lordship grant me your favourable Opinion and Countenance?'—'A Truce with your Compliments,
cry'd Thornton,
let us be a Triumvirate, and make the World stare at our Friendship.
BY Degrees, they dropp'd into the familiar Stile, and each seem'd happy in the other two.—
Conyers
very attentively examin'd the Features of my Lord, and call'd to his Remembrance his much belov'd
Master Harry.
—His Heart felt an unusual Pleasure;
Joy
sparkled in his Eyes, and added such Charms to his Conversation, that his Friend protested, he believ'd the Gravity of the
Spaniards
had only served to give him more Spirits.—
Perhaps,
said my Lord,
they were so confin'd, when there, that now they rush out with greater Force; but be it as it will, I am vastly pleas'd to find
Wit
and
good Sense
so agreeably blended.
—
Conyers
made the proper Reply, but retir'd pretty soon, for he wanted Repose.
NEXT Day they visited their Friends, and a Week was very chearfully employ'd. In this Time, Mr.
Conyers
receiv'd a Letter from his Correspondent in
London,
That he had credited him with the Money remitted from
Cadiz;
That he had paid three Bills drawn on him by Mr.
Pensé,
of
Brussels,
amounting to
Seventy-five Pounds,
and that his Correspondent of that City had advis'd him of the Death of the said Mr.
Pensé.
—Captain
Conyers
was much concern'd for the poor Man, but his superior Joy soon got the better. He did not think on his Death, as so much gained, but determined to employ
Pensé
's Money to other Purposes than his own.
LORD TRUEGOOD had all the Softness and Delicacy of Behaviour; that Tenderness to Mankind; that Ease, and, at the same Time, that
Dignity
in his Deportment, that distinguishes, or ought to distinguish the
Nobleman.
He was Generous without Profuseness, Mild without Childishness, and Courteous to all; but supported his Station. He had seen the different States with critical Eyes, and observed the Faults and Perfections, with a View to the Good of his Country, and his own Honour. This Gentleman conceived a most particular Esteem for Captain
Conyers,
and every Day improved it.—To be applauded and regarded by Men of Sense and Knowledge, is the highest Honour a Man can receive. The Captain had this from
Lord Truegood,
and was sensible of it.
A LITTLE more Time was spent in
Paris,
in Compliments on taking Leave, particularly of the
Marquis de Brissac,
and the
Duke d'Ayen.
— Those paid to Ladies, I am as ignorant of, as the Reader.—Every Thing being prepared, the
Three Friends
took Post for
Calais.
The Packet soon landed them at
Dover,
and each had a peculiar Satisfaction at arriving at
London.
CHAP. XX.
The
grateful Mind
a Pleasure feels
Beyond what
Vice
and
Passion
yields;
The
grateful Heart
a Bliss bestows
Beyond what
Vulgar-Cunning
knows.
This
noble Virtue
in the Breast,
Of ev'ry Virtue we're possess'd.
ANONIMOUS.
IT is not to be expressed, the hearty and affectionate Manner
Sir Roger Thornton
and
Lord Mountworth
received Captain
Conyers,
neither is it possible to describe the Joys He felt, when he embraced the
Author of his Life,
and the
Founder of his Happiness.
Each insisted on his living with them, and contended strongly about it, but Captain
Conyers
ended the kind Dispute by assuring them, he had many Reasons for being in private Lodgings, but hoped they would indulge him the Honour of visiting with Freedom.—He was presented to each Family, who could not enough admire the many excellent Qualifications they soon found he possessed. His generous Valour was the Subject of each Day, particularly with the Ladies.—
It is just
They
should peculiarly admire the
Brave,
when
They only
are capable of rewarding them.
LADY MOUNTWORTH still preserved a large Residue of Beauty. The accustom'd Sweetness of her Temper, and her good Sense, remained; but all her Charms seemed transplanted, and to blow a-fresh in her Daughter,
Lady Harriot.
She was now about Twenty-four Years of Age; her Beauty was exquisite, and none could be insensible of it; but the
Rectitude
of her Manners, the
Integrity
of her Soul, and the
Affability
of her Behaviour, could not fail of Numbers of Admirers. Perhaps she was too delicate in the Choice of a Husband, and required more Perfections in a Man, than a
large Fortune
and
high Titles.
She was so whimsical and singular in her Notions, that she thought a
rational, tender,
and
faithful Companion,
was infinitely more essential to a Scheme of Happiness, than a Multitude of Servants, and the most brilliant Retinue.—My
Lord
and
Lady
often raillied this Temper; but as they knew her Understanding and Judgment, they always left her Free.
CAPTAIN
Conyers
admired her Virtues. He was charmed at the
easy Elegance
of her Conversation. He gazed on her Beauties, and his
Heart
insensibly stole from him, and became her Property.—Certain it is,
Lady Harriot
began to have Sentiments much in his Favour, and some delicate Expressions, and the Conduct of the Eyes, soon discovered what passed in their Souls.
THO'
Lady Harriot
possessed his Imagination, yet his private Affairs were attended to. Lord
Mountworth
was an excellent Adviser in Money Affairs, as well as other Matters. He therefore begged his
Lordship
's Assistance in the Management of
Twenty Thousand Pounds,
which brought on a Conversation that discovered the
Circumstances
of the
Captain.
—His Money was soon disposed of in the Funds, and he prepared to set out for his Estate. Whilst this was doing, he remembered his Promise to himself, and sent
Five hundred Pounds
of Mr.
Pensé
's to the
Correspondent Society in
London,
for promoting
English
Protestant Schools in
Ireland, but his Name was not mentioned.
HE likewise remembered his old Friend Mr.
Sangfroid
the Surgeon, and after much Enquiry, found him in very
obscure Lodgings.
The
Captain
was dressed in his Regimentals, and
Sangfroid
received him with very great Respect.—
Sir,
said he,
I am sorry for your Accident. A
slight Touch,
I presume, but my Care and Diligence, will soon make Matters easy to you, and you may depend on being quite safe in my Hands.
—He was going on in the usual Stile; but the
Captain
with an hearty laugh, cry'd out,
Bless me, Mr.
Sangfroid!
—Have you really forgot me?
—
Sangfroid
looked up, and staring at him for some Time, cry'd,—Forget you!— —
Eh!—Oons! I believe 'tis honest
Conyers
—Oh God! — Come to my Arms my dear Friend,
said the Captain,
and use me as such.
—They embraced, and the Surgeon was quite confounded at his Appearance, and testify'd his Surprize. —
We shall,
said Conyers,
have Time enough to talk of that, but at present let us think on your Affairs, for you do not seem so happy as I could wish. You have been my kind Benefactor, now try my Gratitude, and honestly tell me your Wants, for I fear you have some.
POOR
Sangfroid
began a most melancholy Story. He told the Variety of Misfortunes he had met with;—he placed them all to the Account of his Folly and Extravagance, and concluded by his being in a poor, wretched Condition.—His Story was extremely moving, but it convinced the
Captain
of the
Misery
That Man draws on himself, who chuses to be directed by
Passions
and
Appetites,
rather than
Prudence
and
Oeconomy.
—However, he was determined to serve him, and put
Forty Guineas
into his Hands.—
Now,
said he,
this is only for the present; when you find a
Surgeoncy
to be bought, command my Purse most freely.'—'Heavens!
said Sangfroid,
how ill they argue, that call this a
bad World!
—You are in it!—Ten such Men, attone for the Faults of Millions! —My dear Friend,
continued he, with Tears in his Eyes,
I believe some Relations would advance Two Hundred Pounds, if I had the Remainder I could this Moment purchase a Surgeoncy to a Regiment of Guards.—But 'tis impossible to expect so much Goodness.'— Expect,
said Conyers
every Thing from me. Go about it, my Friend, immediately, and in three Days I shall call and finish the Affair.
—The Captain performed his Promise, and with the Assistance of £ 600 Mr.
Sangfroid
was made completely happy.
HIS next Enquiry was for
Doctor St. Amour;
but he had been lately made a
Bishop
in
Ireland.
He visited his good Widow Landlady in
Surry,
whom he made vastly happy, by a Present of Fifty Guineas, and an Annuity of Ten Pounds a Year.—He found out that his old Master
Monsieur Champignon
had been sometime dead; and that
Miss Tonton
having the Guardianship of her own Person, had wisely disposed of it to a
Life-Guard
Man.—SIR PETER SHALLOW was still alive, and of the same
weak Importance.
—SIR JOHN CURIOUS was at Rest, but his Lady was very busy with a second Husband, whom she married in her Weeds.—Poor Mrs. CANNON had failed in some of her Annuities, and was obliged to retire to
Yorkshire
for Cheapness.—The BISHOP had long since been translated, and his
Works
followed him.—As to many others, whom he knew, he judged it not proper to renew his Acquaintance, or even inquire after. In a Word, he discharged all those
Duties,
that
good Men
recommend, and what
few
practice.
CAPTAIN
Thornton
had been so long absent from his Regiment, that he was oblig'd to take Leave of his Friends, and join his Post in
Scotland,
and his Father Sir
Roger
had been some Time in
Berkshire
on Business. This encreased the Intimacy of Captain
Conyers
with Lord
Mountworth
's Family, particularly with Lord
Truegood.
— He found out, by Degrees, the Situation of Affairs, and that the young
Lord
's Brother
Master William
had taken a Fancy to the
Sea Service,
and had distinguished himself on many late Occasions as a Captain of a
Man of War,
and was then at his Station.
WHATEVER good Opinion the Family conceived of Capt.
Conyers,
an Affair happened that did not lessen it. It seems Mr.
Sangfroid
had been at the Captain's Lodgings, and was informed of his being at Lord
Mountworth
's. He followed, and tho' the Captain was not there, yet the Servant conducted him into the Chamber where sat my
Lord
and
Lady
with
Lady Harriot.
My
Lord,
with his usual Politeness, ordered a Chair, and told him he expected the Captain every Moment. A little Chat arose, which, at last, fell on his Friend. —
Sangfroid
was silent as to former Times, but mentioned his having been in good Circumstances, and had rendered some Services to Mr.
Conyers.
He then painted out the last Action of his Friend, and his real Worth and Honour in such lively Colours, that drew from my
Lord
and
Lady,
the highest
Encomiums
on the Captain.
Lady Harriot
was silent, but Pleasure blushed in her Face. —
Sangfroid
waited for some Time, but at last took his Leave.
LADY HARRIOT now opened on the Charms of
Gratitude
and true
Generosity.
—
These,
said she,
are the
masterly Touches
of a
finish'd Piece,
and no Character can be compleat without them.—They argue every
humane
Sentiment, and are an
Abstract of all Virtues.'
—'Your Servant, Lady
Harriot, said my Lord,
and bowed, —I protest you would make an excellent Painter. But tell me, my dearest
Harriot,
Which would you chuse to trace, the
Person,
or the
Mind
of the Captain?
—She blushed, but answered—
You know,
my Lord,
I always speak Truth, and can ill disguise my Heart.—I hope I shall not be thought Criminal, when I assure your Lordship, I would chuse both his
Person
and his
Mind.'
—'And if I can,
said my Lord,
you shall have your Choice.'—He then most tenderly embraced her, and
Lady Mountworth
almost wept with Joy.
THE
Captain
was much pressed to return to the Country, particularly by Colonel
Manly,
who mentioned something of the Borough. It happened that the
Colonel
and
Lord Mountworth
were intimate Friends, so was easily persuaded to let his Son
Lord Truegood
accompany the Captain, but not before he had acquainted him with the Sentiments of his Sister, and his own Inclinations to such a Match. The poor
Captain
scarcely knew how to bid
Adieu
to his dear Lady
Harriot;
but as he had given some Hints to Lord
Truegood,
his Lordship eased him in so delicate an Affair.—
Lady Harriot, said he,
I must beg your Hand to help me to raise my Friends for he is
your's
and you
his.
—She saluted the Captain, and each attempted to answer the other.—
These are broken Words,
said my Lord,
but we shall piece them together on our Return.—One Kiss more. —Now adieu.
THEY went to my
Lord
and
Lady,
who, as soon as acquainted with this Affair, embraced Mr.
Conyers,
and looked on him as a Son.—
Your Lordship,
said the Captain,
is no Stranger to my Fortune, but this Paper contains an Abstract of it, and I most chearfully submit myself to your Lordship's Determination.
—A few Compliments ensued, and
Lord Truegood,
with Capt.
Conyers,
stepped into their post Chaise, and soon arrived to the End of their Journey.
CHAP. XXI.
Our Grandsire
Adam,
ere of
Eve
possess'd,
Alone, and ev'n in Paradise unbless'd,
With mournful Looks the blissful Scenes survey'd,
And wander'd in the solitary Shade:
The
Maker
saw, took Pity, and bestow'd,
WOMAN,
the last, the best
Reserve
of God.
POPE'S Jan.
and
May.
NEVER was Man received with more Affection, particularly by his
Sister, the Colonel,
and Doctor
Grace.
— It was a Jubilee in the Village.—The Remembrance of past, and the Enjoyment of present Happiness, occasioned many Tears. —He paid every Duty to Mrs.
Sampson,
and she regarded him as her
Brother
and her
Son.
He recited every Circumstance since they parted, and did not forget his Aunt
Magragh
at
Cadiz,
and proposed her living with her when she arrived in
England.
— Mrs
Sampson
was extremely pleased in his good Fortune; but, as she imagined the
Colonel
wished an Alliance with him, she hinted, that, perhaps, there was more in Store.—
Indeed,
said she,
I think you ought to marry; nor do I know a Woman in the World I would sooner recommend to you than Miss
Manly.
— She is grown a Delightful Creature, and is so good, I am sure she would make an excellent Wife. You know the Colonel has Fifteen hundred Pounds a Year, and a great Deal of ready Money. If you will set about it, I'il engage it shall be done.'—'My dear Sister, replyed
Conyers,
I know not how to thank you as I ought; but this Affair is impossible.— I am no Stranger to Miss
Manly
's Beauty and Merit; but we are not always Masters of our Inclinations.
—He then told her the History of his Heart, and spoke so tenderly on the Charms of
Lady Harriot,
that she entirely agreed with him.
COLONEL MANLY was still hearty, and tolerably well. He was vastly pleased at the Figure and Behaviour of
Lord Truegood.
He spoke with great Pleasure of his
Grandfather
and the present
Earl,
and received him with the utmost Affection and Regard. They frequently dined with the
Colonel,
and
Miss
did the Honours of the Table in so polite and well-bred a Manner, that charm'd all, but particularly
Lord Truegood.
He was struck with her Beauty, but the Elegance of her Conversation, firmly fixed every tender Thought.—
Conyers
perceived his Lordship's Anxiety, and guessing the Cause, hinted his Suspicion.—
True,
said my Lord,
I own my Love, nor am I ashamed of it. An Object so infinitely worthy, must engross my Heart. Dear
Conyers,
let me require your Friendship. Assist me with the
Colonel
and his
dearest
Daughter, as I assisted you with
Harriot.
I am certain of my Father's Consent, and I shall be the happiest of Men.
—The Captain, who was rejoiced at this Incident, assured him of his Interest, and the next Day, not only obtained the Colonel's Consent, but artfully found out from
Miss,
that my Lord was far from being disagreeable to her.—
Lord Truegood
was in Raptures, and the Friendship of
Conyers
curtailed a long Courtship, which of all People, Men of
Sense
and
Sincerity
are the least capable of doing for themselves. The Way being now paved, the Affair went smoothly on, and only wanted
Lord
and
Lady Mountworth
's Approbation.
The
Captain
resigned to the
Colonel
the Promise of his Interest for a Seat in
Parliament,
and begged him to transfer it where, soon, it would be naturally due. When his Family Affairs were settled, they all agreed on a Journey to
London;
and, as the
Colonel
and Mrs.
Sampson
were infirm, they were obliged to make easy Stages. His
Lordship
daily made fresh Discoveries of the Understanding and good Nature of Miss
Manly,
and she found her Pleasure and Satisfaction arise, the more she conversed with him.—In short, it is not in Nature to give more real Joy, than what this good Company felt.
ON their Arrival in
London,
Captain
Conyers
flew to Lady
Harriot,
and
Lord Truegood
to his Father. One discovered his Soul more openly, and the other mentioned, what Lord
Mountworth
and my Lady were charmed to hear.
MATTERS were in this Situation, when HONOUR attacked the Captain with such Force, as almost to unhinge his flattering Hopes. This
busy Companion
seemed to hint,
That he ought in Justice to make himself known to my Lord before the Marriage; that it would heighten his Character, and prevent the Imputation of an Impostor.
— He owned the Truth of this, but at the same Time, he looked on his Person, Accomplishments and Fortune, as very far from Counterfeits. His discovering himself, gave him no Uneasiness, but he dreaded, that his
Love
might be injured by it; and, as he could by no Means think of putting it to the Hazard, he determined still to be silent.—I write the Fact, and will neither approve or condemn this Conduct. The Truth is,
he loved,
and those who have felt that Passion, perhaps will make Allowances for the Faults it occasions.
WHY should I take up the Time of my kind Reader?—He will naturally suppose, that Visits were paid and returned;—That a Settlement was agreed on;—That the Lawyers were Fee'd, and all Necessaries done, to the finishing a Matter of such Consequence, but without my Help he will not know that
Lady Harriot
's Fortune was but Ten Thousand Pounds.
Two People, if not
Four,
imagined the Lawyers were very slow in their Motions, and the Clerks very dilatory in their Busisiness. A few Guineas enlivened their Pens, and the happy Day, at last came. The Bishop of—joined all their Hands, and established the
Love
and
Affection of their Souls.
LORD MOUNTWWORTH would not too soon disturb the Pleasure of his
Sons
and
Daughters,
but in six Weeks, he began to think of returning to
Ireland,
from whence he had been absent three Years. As he found Captain
Conyers
and
Lady Harriot
greatly inclined to go, he advised him to keep his Money Matters in such a Readiness, that he might dispose of it the first convenient Opportunity.—
Whatever,
said my Lord,
some may imagine, let me advise you to Purchase in that
Kingdom,
but in one of those Counties the least improved. A Man of your Turn of Mind, will soon discover the many Advantages. You will build convenient Houses for the poor People, and set them a
Spinning.
You will almost compel them to
Industry
and
Labour.
They will thrive under you, and your Fortune increase in Proportion.
—His Lordship then gave him an Account of his own Management, (as was formerly related) and assured him the People were all content, tho' his annual Income was augmented almost One Thousand Pounds.— —
If,
continued he,
a Man takes a Pleasure in viewing the
Trees
he planted, in seeing them blossom, and in tasting their Fruit, what Joy, what a
rational Joy
must he receive, who beholds a Colony of
human Creatures,
established by his
Care,
flourishing by his
Bounty,
and
Blessing
his Soul, who
blessed them?
— Believe me, my dear Son, no
Earthly Happiness
can equal this.
—The
Captain
was too sensible of these Truths, not to agree with my Lord.—His Spirit was already in
Ireland,
and his Imagination planed out his future Conduct.
COLONEL MANLY grew impatient to return Home, there,
as he said,
to rest for ever.
Lady Truegood
could not think of quitting her Father, and the young
Lord
could not part from his dearest Wife, so that the old Gentleman was perfectly happy, when they agreed to accompany him. —He took a most tender Leave of all his Friends; but, embracing
Conyers
with Tears of the truest Affection, call'd him his
Friend,
his
Soldier,
—but could utter no more than,
Heaven bless and protect you,
and retir'd with Eyes full of the tender Passion, to which
Lady Mountworth
and
Lady Harriot
most liberally subscribed.
THE Captain took a good House and Garden at
Richmond
for Mrs.
Sampson,
who promised to be most careful of Mrs.
Magragh
when she arrived. He wrote to his Mother of all his Transactions, and gave her full Instructions. Every Thing being adjusted, this chearful and happy Family quitted
London,
and set out for
Ireland.
CHAP. XXII.
The Wise new Prudence from the Wise acquire,
And one brave Hero sans another's Fire.
POPE'S
Homer.
THE Journey was made less tedious by their sprightly and agreeable Conversation.—His
Lordship
often spoke of
Ireland,
but in such a Manner, as to remove the
Prejudices
he supposed Mr.
Conyers
might have to it.—
The Face of the Country,
said he,
is certainly charming, and the
Soil,
the
Rivers,
and the
Climate
abundantly supply every Necessary for Life. It was formerly so
Woody,
that the Exhalations of the Earth were confined, and the Air wanted a Currency, consequently, it was
very fatal to Strangers.
Now indeed, you will find the other Extreme, and a shameful Neglect of Trees; but, as they have promised, so do they mend every Day.—You will be surprized at their Herds of
Cattle.
The City of
Cork
alone, slaughters for the
West Indies
above
Eighty Thousand
every Year. No doubt, it is a profitable Branch, but so much
Pasturage
depopulates a Country, and makes the common People extremely
poor
and
miserable.
The Inhabitants seem now to have a Relish and a Taste for Industry, and they feel the Sweets of it. In many Things, no People act Wiser, and in others it is the Reverse, particularly in
Corn.
When a Scarcity happens, they all run to the Plow. Next Year, Corn is a Drugg, the
Dutch
buy it at their own Price, and the poor Farmers are undone. The following Year the Plow is neglected, and Corn again rises to an exorbitant Price, and then the
Dutch
return them their own.
I AM surprised,
said Conyers,
that their Experience has not convinced them of the Necessity of
Granaries.'
—'They much want them,
replyed my Lord,
but it must be an Affair of
Government,
for private Persons would be ruined in their Fortunes or Characters by such a Scheme.' —By what I have heard,
said Conyers,
it is a plentiful Country, and very
Cheap.
' —'True,
answered Lady Harriot,
and yet it is made much
Dearer
than in
England.
If Provisions be a Third Cheaper, and the Fashion of the Country obliges the Use of
double Quantities,
must it not be more Expensive?'—'Well, well,
said Lady Mountworth,
suppose it dearer, and that they are not so rich as in
England,
they live well, they are a generous hospitable People, and have Spirits and Chearfulness, not to be purchased by mere Wealth. If they have Faults, shew me a Nation without them?'—'My Mistress
said my Lord,
is quite an
Irish Woman.
'— I believe,
said she,
my Dear means, I am quite unprejudiced; but, granting I was otherwise, ought I not to regard that
Kingdom
that maintains us? I wish every one did the same, and then their
Poverty
and
Folly
would not be so conspicuous.
WE are told,
said the Captain,
that the
English Charter Schools
are in a very flourishing Condition, and will, in Time, make it a
Protestant Kingdom.
'—'Yes,
replyed my Lord,
they are greatly, and very justly encouraged, but it will take Time to complete so laudable a Work, and Donations are still wanting.—Tho' it is the
King
of all Charities, yet I think my Plan would much shorten it.—Suppose the Legislator vested
One Hundred Thousand Pounds
in the Hands of a few Trustees of known Integrity and Judgment, to be applied in purchasing Lands in some particular Counties, and letting those Lands in small Farms to poor Protestant
Swiss or Palatines,
naturalized, and to Protestant Husbandmen of our own Kingdoms. These Farms should be
Rent Free
for three Years; pay a small Matter for three Years more, and raise it in such a Proportion, as should be judged Equitable, till by Degrees the Lands paid the full Value, but not of the Improved Rent. They should have
Fee Farm Leases,
but not suffered to sell or alienate the Lands in any Shape, for a certain Number of Years, without the Consent of the Trustees.—Such a Scheme, properly executed, would certainly, in the first Instance, be Expensive to the
Government,
but it would, as certainly, soon fill the Country with
Industrious
and
Faithful Subjects,
and return to that
Government
a Ten-fold Interest.
AS ENGLAND,
said the Captain,
has purchased that
Kingdom
by much Blood and Treasure, perhaps they are too severe in their Conduct towards it. All confess the Policy of
France,
and their constant Maxim is, to grant more Privileges to their
conquered Provinces
and
Towns,
than they allow the Interior of the Kingdom.' —'On this,
said my Lord,
I shall not argue, but, take
Ireland
in General, and you will find them tolerably happy. If all the
proper Use
be not made of so large a Kingdom,
England
will at last discover her Error, and rectify it. I must say for the Honour of
Ireland,
that no Nation ever made, in so short a Time, such
wonderful Improvements;
and I must add, that
England
has been, in many Instances, extremely Generous, and
England
begins already to feel and perceive the Utility of it.
AS to FRANCE,
continued my Lord,
I am convinced, that her
great Strength
lies not in the vast Superiority of her Dominions. We are told that
Great-Britain
and
Ireland
are to
France,
as 100 to 107. Her chief Power consists in the equal Distribution of Benefits to the
Whole,
and in her Scheme for making a
formerly, divided People,
now Think and Act as
one Man.
—Were we so True to our
own Interest;
—Were we so Industrious to procure to each other a
reciprocal Advantage;
—Did we manage every Inch of Territory for the Benefit of the
Whole Community,
and not Sacrifice the
Bounties of Nature
to the private Interest of a
Few,
GREAT BRITAIN, in Reality, would hold the
Balance of Europe.
—
Lady Harriot
smiled, and said, I cannot but wonder at the vast Pains my Lord takes about
Ireland,
when, with all his Consideration, he cannot change the Nature of Things, but must leave them, almost where he found them: If he could persuade the
Rulers of the State
to think like him, then indeed I should have a Chance of seeing
Ireland
planted like a Garden.
GIVE me Leave to tell you,
replied my Lord,
that I apprehend it the indispensible Duty of every
faithful Subject,
to throw out such Information and Hints to the
Government,
as he judges of general Use. Should he
err
in his Conjectures, perhaps they may give Birth to somewhat really Beneficial. In any Case, his
good Intentions
will at least deserve Praise.— I am not such a
Wind-Mill
Fighter, as to pretend to
amend the World,
yet I hope
your Ladyship
will indulge me an Attempt to amend my little Share of it, and shew others a
good Example.
—According to my Notions, this is almost as essential a Part of my
Duty,
as to
Fear God and Honour the King,
neither can it justly be said, I do
one
or the
other
without it.
SUCH was the general Run of Conversation.—They pleased and instructed each other.—They spoke of
Things
with Freedom, but of
Persons
with Good-nature.— They had no Conception of the Joys of turning all into
Ridicule;
—of the Pleasure of
Sarcasm,
nor of the Delight of finding out
Faults,
and magnifying them.—No.— They had Souls above the vulgar Topic of
Slander.—They loved Mankind, and Mankind loved them.
A YATCHT attended for my Lord and Family, and they arrived safe in
Dublin
the 16th of
April,
1750. They stayed a short Time in that City, and then set out for BOUNTY-HALL. His Lordship's Tenants met him on the Road, and their unfeign'd Joy is past Description.
AS soon as
Conyers
perceived the venerable Seat, wherein he had experienced so much Humanity and so many Blessings, his Heart swell'd with
Gratitude.
Every tender Sensation rushed so violently on him, that he was scarce able to speak.
Lady Harriot
observed his Countenance changed, and was dreadfully frightened, as were my
Lord and Lady.
With some Difficulty he got into the House, and begged to lye down a few Minutes, and all would be well, but no Persuasion could remove
Lady Harriot
from his Bed-Side. He indulged his Tears, and permitted them to flow in Silence, and unperceived by
Lady Harriot.
— In two Hours he was quite recovered, and joined the Family to their inexpressible Joy.
THO' he took Care not to enquire for particular Persons, yet he soon found, that the
Good,
the Honest Mr.
Kindly,
had been dead above two Years. This was a mortifying Blow, and cost him many Sighs. He had often figured to his Mind the
Joy
the Old Man would receive when he discover'd himself, which he intended to do, by reclaiming his
Old Waistcoat
and
tatter'd Breeches.
—All the Gratitude he had resolved to shew this
Good Man,
he now determined to transplant to his Family.—Mr.
Cassock
had been Minister of the Parish Eleven Years, and his Wife was well, and had a fine Family of Children. These he fix'd in his Thoughts.—The old
Butler
and Mrs.
Mathews
were dead.—
Mademoiselle Le Meagre
was old, but lived happily with Mrs.
Cassock
on a Pension from my Lord. The Good-natur'd
Groom
was a favourite Coachman, and had a considerable Farm, and was well married.
Conyers
determin'd in himself to do him Service.—He viewed the Land with the utmost Pleasure, but it was so changed, and the Inhabitants and little Houses so alter'd and so decent, that all seemed Enchantment. With Difficulty could he persuade himself, that
Eighteen Years
could make such a wonderful Change. —Such is the Power of good Management, and such the Effect of Industry!
CAPTAIN CONYERS was in such vast Delight, that he fear'd he should discover himself improperly, and determin'd to watch a convenient Opportunity of opening his Heart to my
Lord.
—Thus they liv'd for two Months, when an Addition was made to the general Joy. In short,
Lady Harriot
could no longer hide a Pregnancy which she had taken great Pains to conceal.
HE soon found out, that his Good Friend DOCTOR ST. AMOUR, now Bishop of ****, lived about Twenty Miles from
Bounty-Hall,
which determin'd him to make an Excuse for visiting that Part of the Country.—He waited on the
Good Man,
from whose Character, it is easy to guess, how the Captain was received, for
Advancement
had only made him, if possible, more
Humble.
—Those who cannot imagine the Beauty of
Good-nautre, Tenderness, Love,
and
Gratitude,
must be very unhappy, and to attempt to describe what they do not understand, would be as absurd as to do it to those who have that Blessing.—
Conyers
told him his Situation, and begg'd his Advice and Assistance in properly bringing about a Discovery to Lord
Mountworth.
— The
Bishop
took it on himself, but an Accident turn'd it another Way.
A FEW Days after his Return, my
Lord
heard of an
Estate
to be sold in the next County, and that the Proprietor was in
Waterford.
He knew the Lands and the Owner, and so much wish'd to have his Son fix'd there, that he proposed a Journey to
Waterford,
as the shortest and surest Way of coming to an Agreement. No doubt the Ladies were in some Trouble, particularly
Lady Harriot,
but his Lordship raillied them out of such Whimsies, and in three Days set out on this Expedition.
CHAP. XXIII.
Not He, of Wealth immense possest,
Tasteless who piles his massy Gold,
Among the Number of the Blest,
Should have his glorious Name enroll'd;
He better claims the glorious Name, who knows
With Wisdom to enjoy what Heaven bestows.
FRANCIS'S HORACE.
ON their Arrival at
Waterford,
they were inform'd, that the Gentleman they wanted was then at
Clonmell,
and next Morning they pursued their Journey to that City. In the Evening, they travell'd leisurely on, and my
Lord
was diverting him with a merry Story of his Youth, when suddenly Mr.
Conyers
cry'd out,
Great God!
and fainted in the Post-Chaise. — His
Lordship,
in prodigious Trouble, stopped the Chaise, and all were employed in recovering the Captain. They took him out, and no House being at Hand, carry'd him to the Hut of a
Beggar.
When his Senses weree recall'd, what was his Astonishment at finding himself actually placed in his
first Habitation!
—He utter'd some Words that greatly affected his
Lordship,
who imagined a Lightness in the Brain, and made him most ardently desire to be in a Place where proper Assistance could be had.—In a little Time his Spirits so much revived, that my Lord hurry'd him into the Chaise, and the Beggar had Reason to be thankful for the Accident.
THE CAPTAIN was lost in Thought. The Idea of former Times was so strong, and every childish Circumstance recurr'd so clearly to his Memory, that it might have been fatal to him, had not his Eyes given Vent to the Throbbings of his Heart.— This lasted a considerable Time; but he was quite himself when he arrived at
Clonmell.
MY
dear Conyers,
said
my Lord,
you give me vast Pain; I perceive your Disorder is not occasioned by Sickness, but by somewhat that oppresses your Mind. —Relieve it, I beseech you, and confide in me, not merely as a
Father,
but as a
Friend.
—If my Power or Fortune can give you Ease, count it already done. Let me intreat you not to stifle your Cares, if you have any, which must torture your Imagination, and keep me on the Rack.
HEAVEN is my Witness, said Mr.
Conyers,
I mean not to give your
Lordship
the least Uneasiness. But, my Lord, I have such a Tale of Wonder to unfold, that overcomes my Reason.—Can you believe, can your Lordship imagine, that the Hovel I was just now in, was my Dwelling for Years?
—My
Lord
thought him distracted, and advis'd him to forbear any further Relation, and go to Rest.
I SEE,
said
Mr.
Conyers,
your
Lordship
thinks my Mind is disturb'd.—'Tis true; but my Reason is clear.—Oh, my Lord! I am not capable of injurious Deceits, but that I have deceived you, is certain.' 'My dear Son,
reply'd the good Lord,
I know your Honour, and your Virtue, but I know not of a Deceit.'— Yes, my Lord,
answer'd Conyers,
you are my
Father;
— your
Bounty
rais'd me;—your
Humanity
supported my Infant Weakness;— your
Virtues
form'd my Soul;—the Will of the
Almighty
has conducted my Steps, and now throws at your Feet, the
Poor,
— the
Helpless,
—the
Abandon'd
JACK CONNOR.
LORD MOUNTWORTH was all Amazement.—He forgot Mr.
Conyers
was on his Knees, but gazing, with Eyes of Astonishment, at last he rais'd him, and look'd again.—When he had fully brought to his Memory the long unthought-of Features of
Jack Connor,
he flew with Transport to his Arms.—
Gracious Heaven!
cry'd he,
how unsearchable are thy Ways.—Oh, my dear
Jack,
you have amply,—amply rewarded the Kindness I have shewn you. —You are now mine by every Tie.'— If your Lordship,
said Conyers,
can pardon the only Fallacy I was ever guilty of, you will, a second Time, give me Life and Being.'—'My dear
Jack, reply'd my Lord,
you every Moment give me new Pleasure;—I think you are now my son more than ever:—But, my Child, tell my impatient Ear how this Wonder has happen'd;—tell me how it is possible, when Mr.
Johnston
was so certain of your being drown'd, that I now find, now hold you in my Arms!'—'I shall,
answer'd
Mr.
Conyers,
most faithfully inform your
Lordship
of every Part of my Life, but the Hurry of my Spirits is so great, and my Imagination, so fill'd with the Vicissitudes of my Fortune, that I am unable, at present to utter any Part. —All I can now say, is, most humbly to thank your Lordship, for your
Humanity
and
Bounty,
to a
Poor, Distressed, Helpless Infant,
and to beseech you, to believe, that nothing but
Real Love,
of my dearest
Harriot,
and the dread of losing her, could have prevented a sooner Discovery. Forgive this Crime, my Lord, if Love can be a a Crime; and your Lordship may be assured, that my
Duty,
my
Gratitude,
and every Sentiment of an
Honest Heart,
shall for ever wait on you, and on every Creature for whom you have the least Friendship or Regard.
MY dear Son,
said my Lord,
I can easily judge of the pleasing Anxiety you are in, but retire to Rest, and may gentle Sleep, restore your Peace and Tranquillity; and may Heaven long continue it.
Next Morning, Lord
Mountworth
in the most affectionate Manner, embraced
Conyers,
and call'd him his
Son,
—his
Friend.
—
Permit me,
said the Captain,
to ask your Lordship, if you can give me any Account of Mr.
Johnston
's Niece
Nannett?
' —'To the best of my Memory,
said my Lord,
she married Mr.
Lilly
the Usher, about the Time you left the School. Your old Master died Six Years ago, and Mr.
Lilly
continues the former Plan of Tuition, with great Credit.
NOW I am satisfied,
said Conyers;
and now give me Leave to recount every Circumstance of my Story, and your Lordship will observe the visible Hand of
Providence
conducting and leading me to the Fruition of the most
perfect Happiness
this World can afford.—It has conducted me to the Arms of the dearest and
best of Wives,
and to the Sight of the noblest and
best of Men.
—Heaven, I beseech thee, make me most truly thankful.
HE then began the Narrative of his Life,
which, if the Reader has forgot, he has my Permission to read again, for I have not Time to Recapitulate.
EVERY Incident and Change of his Life, gave his Lordship fresh Matter for Wonder; but what struck him the most, was his being the Son of
Sir Roger Thornton,
who had married his Sister.—
I shall ever,
said he,
admire your Prudence, in keeping your Affairs so
secret,
and I shall always Honour your laudable
Ambition
and
Gratitude.
—When our
dear Harriot
has bless'd you with a Child, both she and my dear
Wife
shall partake of the Joy your Story has given me, and my Son
Harry,
must share in the Pleasure.—As for
Sir Roger,
he must know nothing of it, for he has a
certain Pride
in his Nature, that would soon divulge it to the World, and, perhaps, not in its genuine Colours.—For my own Part, my
dearest Jack,
I am so far from being ashamed of your Alliance, that I glory in it; yet, my Son, I would not chuse to be the constant Theme of the
Ignorant.
— TITLES are but the Rewards of
Merit,
but
Pride
and
Haughtiness
debase them.—
Distinctions,
are only Incentives to
Noble Deeds;
and
true Nobility
will ever encourage them. —
Charity
and
Tenderness,
are the Characteristicks of A MAN, and did Mankind love
Truth
and
Honour,
more than
Pride, Falshood
and
Detraction,
the Occurrences of your Life would
strengthen
their Resolves, and convince ALL,— That to be REALLY HAPPY, they must be TRULY VIRTUOUS.
Gentle Reader,
RIGHT sorry is the Compiler of this Work, that his Materials can carry him no further, and he is not permitted to to search into
Futurity.
Should our good JACK CONNOR, or CAPTAIN CONYERS, live Thirty or Forty Years longer, perhaps he will furnish Matter for a much
abler Historian.
The Work thou hast now read, has been little alter'd from the
Original Papers,
but some
Observations,
or rather
slight Hints,
have been added, and are the Result of not a little Experience of
Sixty Years.
—If thou findest
Errors,
reprove with Freedom, but judge of the
Intention.
—If thou applaudest any one Part of the
Moral,
thou wilt make the
Compiler
happy, as he will imagine thou wilt follow the
Precept.
—To the
well-minded,
to the
honest Man,
he says from
Shakespear
's CORIOLANUS,
I have done, as you have done; That's,
what I can;
Induc'd, as you have been; That's,
for my Country;
He, that has but effected his Good-will,
Hath overta'en mine Act.
FAREWELL.
FINIS.
Stultus
versus
Sapientem:
IN THREE LETTERS TO THE FOOL.
Joculare tibi videtur: & sane loeve,
Dum nihil habemus majus, calamo ludimus.
Sed diligenter intuere has noenias;
Quantum sub illis utilitatem reperies!
PHAED.
THE
BOOKSELLER
TO THE READER.
THE History of JACK CONNOR having met with so favourable a Reception in
Great Britain
and
Ireland,
that my Interest obliged me to give this Second Edition, tho' Books of Amusement, do not always meet the same Fate. No Pains has been wanting, to make this Impression as compleat, as the Nature of the Work would admit of.
SOME Gentlemen have insisted on my rescuing the following Letters from Oblivion, by adding them to this Volume; and I was the easier prevailed on, as they bear some Analogy to the foregoing History.
I find these Letters were printed in
London,
in the Paper call'd the FOOL, at a Time when it was under the Consideration of Parliament, whether they should, or should not, continue the Bounty on the low-pric'd Linens of
Ireland.
IF
Irony
merits your Attention or Regard, these Letters cannot fail of giving you some Pleasure, which, I shall ever be happy, by contributing to.
LETTER I.
To the FOOL.
Dear Cousin,
LONDON,
1748.
HAD I sooner discovered the Honour I have of being nearly related to you, sooner had I paid my Respects to the worthy Head of so illustrious a Family.
TO convince you of my sincere Love, untainted with Flattery, permit me grievously to complain to you—
of yourself.
The constant
Maxim
of our
glorious Ancestors,
was, by their
Writings,
their
Eloquence,
and every other lawful Means, to encourage, promote, and, if possible, make Universal the
great Doctrine of Folly;
but, with an aching Heart I speak it, you seem to dwindle from the fundamental Rule into downright
Understanding
and
Sense.
CONSIDER, my dear Cousin, that whilst you are musing yourself with such Trifles, your
natural Enemies
gain Ground; nay, a whole
neighbouring
KINGDOM have lately taken up
Arms
against Us, who for many Centuries were our firmest
Friends
and
Allies.
YOUR inherent
Good-foolishness
will naturally imagine I mean
IRELAND.
— This mighty
Monarchy,
for ages governed by Kings of
our House!
—This extensive
Realm,
famous for the Title of
Isle of Saints,
the indelible Character of our noble Family! — This
State,
peculiarly cherished and fed by our spiritual Father the
Pope!
—And yet, to our Shame be it spoken, this, so valuable a Part of our Dominions is likely to be
wrested
from Us. —Yes,
Sir,
we shall soon lose our ancient Inheritance, except we exert all our Faculties, and by
vigorous,
and
antisalutary
Schemes, prevent what must be so
fatal
to our Interest.
LEST
Truth
should not have reached your Ears, (as what Monarch always hears it) permit me to inform you of the
present Conduct
of this DEGENERATE NATION.— Your
Foolishness
will scarcely believe the
melancholy Tidings
I bring!—You will not be able to conceive, that these, your
old Friends,
now hold your
Authority
and
Family
in the
utmost Contempt!
—That they have already trampled down Numbers of your
Altars
and
High-places,
and that all Hands are employed to finish the
execrable Work!
—Believe me, Sir, this
misguided People,
are totally employed in
promoting Manufactures, Labour, and Industry!
Strange Revolution!
AS
poor
and
deluded
as they are, they have
stumbled
on a
Project,
that will
infallibly ruin our Credit.
—They have set the Axe to the
Root,
and the
mighty Tree,
that yielded the plentiful and delicious Fruit of
Pardons, Indulgencies,
and a thousand other Sorts, no less grateful to the Soul,
must fall,
and with it
all our Hopes!
—In short, Sir, the
Wretches
seem
determined
to make it a PROTESTANT KINGDOM.—I tremble at the Consequence!
BLIND ZEAL urges them on. They give their
Money
with
Chearfulness
to promote their
Darling Scheme
of ENGLISH PROTESTANT WORKING SCHOOLS.—I beg Leave, Sir, to set this Matter before you, in its
true Light,
that
your Foolishness
may consider of
Ways
and
Means
to
prevent their spreading.
I AM very well informed that this Kingdom from N. to S. is about 265 Miles, and from E. to W. about 150, and contains about
eighteen Millions
of
statute Acres,
with commodious
Harbours, Bays,
and
Rivers. —Henry the second
stole it from your Ancestors.—Many Struggles were made by our
good Friends
to shake off this
Yoke,
but in vain.—At that Period, vulgarly called
The Reformation,
your
Friends
held fast to
Mother Church,
but still PROTESTANTISM impudently
raised her Head
and
shamefully flourished.
To such an Height she grew, that in 1641, when
England
was torn by
Civil War,
our natural Safety
obliged,
and our Holy Catholick Church
compelled
Us, for the
Sake of Salvation,
to
extirpate
our Enemies. The
glorious Call
was unhappily obeyed, but in Part; for their
fell,
in
that Night,
but about ONE HUNDRED THOUSAND of them.
THAT
Arch-Fiend
OLIVER CROMWELL, greatly disturbed our
Peace
and
holy Ignorance.
His
enthusiastick Sword
swept all before him. His
Madness
drove Multitudes to
America,
and Numbers into
one Corner
of the Land, where still your
Name
is in some
Veneration.
—The total
Ruin
of your Empire was too arduous a Task even for
Oliver,
for on mustering our
Forces
in 1683, we found ourselves 37 to one.
AGAIN we struggled, and followed the
Standard
of your
illustrious God-Father,
KING JAMES
the Second.
—Tho' the PRINCE OF ORANGE was our most
inveterate Foe;
tho' he had a
little Courage, great Cunning,
and a tolerable
Army,
our
Hopes
were High, and we might have succeeded, had not that
abominable filthy Town and Neighbourhood
of ENNISKILLEN, raised a Regiment of HORSE, and one of FOOT, of as rank PROTESTANTS
as ever occupied Church Lands,
and sent
Them
and
Their Hearts
to the PRINCE.—Oh fatal Hour! — Our Enemies
Triumph
in it, and preserve these
Regiments,
even until
this very Day.
FROM that Time, these
Miscreants
have been but
too careful
in
framing,
and what is worse, putting in
Execution
sundry
Laws,
destructive of our
antient Rights.
Thus have they proceeded for these
sixty Years,
without the
least Check;
and have so
artfully
managed their Affairs, that, withal the
Machinations
and
Contrivances,
of sundry
Potentates,
your
Friends
and
Allies,
they never could be brought even to
think
of REBELLION in support of your
Foolishness,
or
Family,
except with
Horror.
—So
averse
were these
Savages
to your
gentle Sway,
that, whilst
Numbers
of
our Relations
marched, even into the Heart of
England
in
your Cause:
They,
the Protestants,
raised upwards of
sixty thousand
Horse and Foot,
well armed, regimented,
and mostly
uniformly cloathed,
and effectually
guarded
IRELAND, in spite of your
legal Prerogative,
and
indefeasible Hereditary Right.
I HAD a Degree of Happiness, on being informed that in 1742, our
Friends
there were about
seven
to
one Enemy.
—But alas, Sir! on further Enquiry, I am, but too well convinced, that in
fifty Years,
you, or your Posterity, will not have a
single Heart warm in your Cause.
—The Encouragement given to Husbandry, Manufactures, Arts and Sciences, is
monstrous!
Even beyond what any other Nation
ever did!
—They have
inverted
the whole Order of
Nature;
they have extracted
Corn
from our old
venerable Boggs,
and feed Millions of
Sheep
and
Oxen,
on those Plains, antiently consecrated to
holy
and
religious
Uses.—But what will not
Impiety
do?
THEY have infatuated the
native Irish
to such a Decree, that they
beg
and
pray
to have their
Children
admitted into these
cursed Protestant Schools,
now erected in most Parts of the Kingdom, to the Number of 50.—In these
Seminaries
they are taught to
read the Bible,
and instructed in their
Religion
for about two Hours every Day, and the Remainder of their Time, still more
infamously,
employed in
tilling the Land, spinning, weaving,
or some other
manual
Operations, unknown to their
Fore-fathers.
THE FUND to answer this
great Expence,
arises, from what they call, THE CHARITY OF WELL DISPOSED CHRISTIANS; and so prevalent is this
specious Title,
that a KING, (whom your
Foolishness
never heard of,) even GEORGE THE SECOND, has granted them a Charter, and set an Example to his Subjects, by a Donation of ONE THOUSAND POUNDS a Year.—An Example! but too well followed by Numbers of
weak Minds
in this Kingdom.
I REALLY always imagined that these Contributors were of the
lowest Order
of the People; but great was my Surprise to find, at a late Meeting, so many of the
first Fashion
and
Reputation
in the Kingdom. As they are Men of
dangerous
and
turbulent
Spirits, always
plotting
and contriving our
Ruin,
they must, by some Means or other, be
diverted
from this Work.
YOUR
Foolishness
will certainly
demand
and
say,—Where are my holy Priests?— They are idle!—They are idle!
—No, Sir, accuse them not; they are there, and in
Numbers,
and at
Work
with all their
Might;
but these subtile
Protestants
take from them the
Tools they work with,
by
transplanting
the innocent
Children
many Miles distant from their
native Parishes;
by which Contrivance, their
Parents,
or
Priests,
are prevented from frightening them with
Purgatory
and
Hell,
or keeping them firm in the Cause of
Indolence
and
Rags.
—For now above 1500 of these little
Reptiles
Cloath themselves.
PERMIT me,
Sir,
in my next, to lay before you a few
Remarks,
and some
Schemes
to render Useless the Machinations, of all your
Enemies,
being
Your true and most affectionate Kinsman,
Thomas à Stupidius.
LETTER II.
To the FOOL.
Dear Cousin,
LONDON,
1748.
IN the last I had the Honour of writing to you, I traced out the
Rise
and
Progress
of WISDOM in your antient Kingdom of IRELAND.—Permit me, a little, to continue the Subject, and then I shall mention my
Ways
for making their
Wisdom
abortive.
SOME of their Wise Heads have found out, that
Ireland
contains about
two Millions
of Inhabitants, and they have likewise found out, that the
Riches
and
Prosperity
of a Nation are in Proportion to their Inhabitants
properly employed.
—Such a Discovery was infinitely against the
true Interest
of our Family.—On this they built, and then computed the Value to the Government of every
industrious Individual,
which, I think, they made amount to about
ten Pounds
a Year.
THEY then proceeded by a Thing called Arithmetick.—
If
ONE
industrious Subject— be worth
TEN POUNDS
a Year to the State, —what will be the Value of
TWO MILLIONS of
such Subjects?
—And, such is the Power of Figures! They made it plain that that Number was really worth TWENTY MILLIONS each Year.
IN order to acquire such
Riches,
the first Care of these
avaritious Gentry
was to poison the Minds of their Tenants with Notions of
Industry.
—No easy Task! But as they knew, that the
Popish Religion,
—their having such Swarms of
Priests
to maintain,— their Number of
Holy Days,
—and their natural Disposition to
Sauntering,
were so many Draw-backs to
Wealth, Honesty,
and
Cleanliness,
it was thought necessary to change the
Religion
of the People, and make them spurn at our
holy Institutions.
— This cruel Blow has been but too well followed; — Their
Labour
and
Industry
have matched with such gigantick Strides, that within these
twenty Years,
the whole Face of the Country is changed.—Now the Traveller journies on
Roads
the finest in
Europe,
and reposes himself, not in
Barns,
or
Hovels,
but in good,
clean,
and
commodious
Houses.—He may in Time be entertained with all the Beauties of the Country, heightned and improved by
Art
and
Industry.
—He may behold
useful
and
ornamental
Structures arise; and see
Gardens
and Plantations flourish.— These indeed would be shocking Sights!
'TIS amazing to observe, how the
trivial Praemiums
of a little Society in DUBLIN have spurred on
greedy Minds.
—Scarcely has any Branch of
Manufacture,
or
useful Art,
escaped their Notice and
Encouragement.
—Such low Creatures are they, that they ransack even the
Dunghills,
and give Praemiums to the old Women, who gather most
Rags to make Paper.
—Should our Schemes oblige the
Rebels
to return to your Obedience, I would except these
Fellows
out of the general Pardon.
WHAT have we not to fear, should
Industry,
like other Novelties, become a
Fashion
in
Ireland.
—INDUSTRY! The
Parent
of every
social Virtue;
—the
Founder
of all
real Honour;
—the
Support
of
Government,
and
Preserver
of
true Religion!
— PROPERTY is her constant Attendant, and LIBERTY gives her Spirits
freely
to enjoy it.—
Virtue, Property,
and
Liberty,
are not Concomitants of our
Constitution.
They must be
banished,
or your
Foolishness
will be
deposed.
Therefore, THE PROTESTANT WORKING SCHOOLS
must
be
destroyed.
HITHERTO, Sir, I have considered this Matter in its
worst Light;
but be assured your
Foolishness
has many and powerful
Friends
both
Here
and in
Ireland,
who constantly espouse your
Cause.
These
Forces,
properly collected, and well posted, must make a
powerful Diversion,
and greatly Retard the Operations of the
Enemy.
OUR Friends in the CONCLAVE and SORBONNE perfectly understand the
noble Doctrine,
—DIVIDE AND GOVERN.—Through all the Labyrinths of
Policy,
from
Xenophon,
and
Tacitus,
to
Richlieu
and
Anti-Machiavel,
this
Maxim
is the
Soul
and
Essence.
— When it fails, I know but of a
Ponyard
or
Poison
that can supply its Place.
RIGHTLY to
divide,
we must sub-divide
Truth:
Or, in other Words, we must propagate
Falshoods.
'Tis certain, that
Lying
is a Sin the Vulgar
only
can commit; for all the Princes of your House gloried in it; and your
Foolishness
follows those bright Examples.—Let it be privately hinted,
That the whole Affair is a Jobb, and a Contrivance to couzen the Weak.
—Assert possitively,
that every Donation to these scandalous Working Schools, centers in the Pockets of particular Persons,—or, where these Schools are really erected, 'tis but with a View of augmenting the Estate of the Lord of the Manor, by having so many Slaves to work for him gratis.
Thanks be to
Ignorance
Thousands of your
Liege Subjects
will subscribe to these Articles, with
Implicit Faith.
THO' it happens, that GREAT-BRITAIN and IRELAND are governed by the same
Monarch,
and the same
Laws,
and tho' the
principal
Inhabitants of the
latter,
spring from the
former,
yet Nature, indulgent to your Interest, has
divided
them by a
little Sea.
—Be it therefore our peculiar Care to
divide their Minds,
by encouraging
Jealousy,
and the salutary Seeds of
Derision
and
Animosity.
—By all Means, prevent the
English
from ever getting the better of their
Prejudices
to the
Irish,
and keep the
Irish
in a perpetual
envious
Disposition to the
English.
For, though we cannot prevent their being IN FACT but
one
and the
same People,
this Conduct will give them
two distinct Minds,
and make their UNION
useless.
EVERY Instrument must be employed to keep up the
general Opinion,
that
Ireland
must be
bridled
and
curbed.
—Never permit them to discover, that it would be
unjust
to make
different Laws
for the
Isle of Wight,
or, that the County of
Surry
should have
less Freedom
than the County of
Middlesex;
because the
Thames
divides them.—How fatal had it been to our
good Cause,
and to our faithful Friends,
the Disturbers of Europe,
had
Ireland
been joined to the narrow Part of the Western Shore of
England!
—They would then have been
all Protestants.
—This Kingdom would have been
Two Thirds
larger than it is,—have had
four or five Millions
more of Inhabitants, and a proportionable Increase of
Taxes
to the Government; consequently the Government less in
Debt,
if at all; or, if in
Debt,
better enabled to pay that Debt. —
France
and
Spain
would have been unsupplied with
Irish Officers
and
Soldiers,
who happen, though our Relations, not to be the worst of the Profession.
THAT your
Foolishness
has many
Friends
of different Orders, cannot be denied; but the
Two
most firm in your Interest, are those
Gentlemen
of
England,
who regard the
other Isle
but with a certain Degree of
Contempt,
and view the
Inhabitants
but as
Aliens to the State:
And those
Gentlemen
of
Ireland,
who contemning her new-adopted Maxims,
live
out of her
Pale,
nor visit her, but by their
Proxies
in the Form of
Bills of Exchange.
—These are our
true
and
genuine Subjects,
meriting every
Honour
your
Foolishness
can confer on them.
IT must be confessed, there are some
poor
and
dastardly
Spirits in this Kingdom, who, afraid of exerting their Power over the
other,
have, unaccountably, run into the opposite Extreme, and
joined
with all their Might to promote their
Linen Manufacture.
Nay, their MONARCH, and most of his
Nobility, feel
it every Day on their
Tables,
their
Backs,
and in their
Beds.
—Too serious a Truth!—I have been informed, that in 1681, their whole Export of
Linen Cloth
amounted to about
ten Thousand Pounds,
but now,—Can you believe it?—'Tis swelled to above a
Million.
This has so enraged me, I am not at present able to proceed; but permit me to refer your
Foolishness
to my next, and always be assured of the utmost Sincerity of
Your most faithful and affectionate Kinsman,
Thomas à Stupidius.
LETTER III.
To the FOOL.
Dear Cousin,
LONDON,
1748.
JOIN with me to curse the Memory of the old Wretch, who invented the Fable of the
Belly and Members.
Certainly it contains more
Wisdom
than half the modern Folios. From this
Tale
sprung every faint Endeavour to make these
three Kingdoms
subservient to the Interest of
each other,
and BE in Reality
one great and mighty Empire.
But their boasted TRIA JUNCTA in UNO is merely ideal; for our Family have ever found Means, nor wanted Interest, to make ineffectual such
pernicious Schemes.
LINEN
gave Rise to
Industry
in IRELAND.—
Industry
soon shewed her alluring Charms, and diffused her
baneful Influence
over the Land. Ten Thousand
odious Beauties
issued from her, and at last produced these horrid
working Schools,
which
must
make it a
Protestant Kingdom,
and consequently
enrich England,
by an Addition of some
Millions
of
useful
and
faithful Subjects.
ENGLAND discovered this
Benefit,
and
wisely
encouraged the
Irish Linen;
but particularly by the
Bounty
they allowed on its being
exported
to foreign Countries. The Effects were soon felt in
Ireland,
and the
Creatures
expressed their
aukward Gratitude,
by running in Crouds to the
Hackle
and
Loom.
AS this is the
Source
of all our
Misfortunes
in
Ireland,
let all our Attention be given to
Ruin it;
which, when once effected, believe me Sir, they will
fly
with more Alacrity, to bend the Knee before you, than they did to
rebel
against your
Authority.
—Let us not tamely submit to see triumphant those Monsters,
Industry
and
Protestantism.
—Our Troops are still numerous, and in good Order; but alas! of what Use, if not led to on Action.
Your
Foolishness
knows, that some of the
Northern Provinces
of this Kingdom have embarked in this
Branch of Business.
—A most lucky Incident! which, if properly improved, all your
Wishes
will be accomplished.—Let us
magnify
their Performances.—Let us
invent
plausible Tales of the
Progress
they have made, and
fee
our Friend SOPHISTRY to demonstrate, that the
Interest of England
requires
their
being greatly
supported
and
encouraged,
and then your faithful Minister CUNNING may slyly insinuate, that
Ireland
can now
stand alone,
nor needs the
usual Bounty,
which, by all
true Policy,
ought to bend its Course
due North.
I AM in Raptures at the Thought!— Pursue it, Sir, in the Name of
Ignorance;
and instantly you will see, all their
mighty Fabrick tumble to the Ground,
and your
Fame
will be exalted for ever!—
Ireland
must then infallibly become a
Drain
of Riches from
England,
and not a
Source
of
Plenty.
—She may
want Assistance
from
England,
but will
never be able
to return the Compliment.—Thus enervated, no more can she support
thirty seven Regiments
of
British Subjects,
always ready to obey their
Monarch.
—She may indeed have an Army quartered on her; but
their Pay
must issue from the same Fountain, which supplies the Army in
Scotland.
—Her present
Absentees
must then become
Resident;
for, by
Ruining this,
her
only Branch
of valuable Commerce, she can never send out the twentieth Part of the
annual Million,
she now bestows on them.
'TIS impossible to mention the innumerable Advantages arising to us from such a
Project
well executed.—ROME would be
glad,
and
France
rejoice at it.—
Ignorance
would
triple
her Number of
Beads. Sloth
would
multiply
her
pleasant Bogs,
and
Indolence
live magnificently in
Smoak,
and
Mudwalls!
In fine, all
our Family,
to the most distant
Relation,
would be
properly
and
munificently
provided for, and your
Throne
established, as in the Days of
Roderick O'Connor,
of gallant Memory.
'TIS in
vain
to attempt in
England
a thorough Reformation in our Favour; but we can always throw in such
Bars
to their
Happiness,
and so
weaken
the
Nerves
and
Sinews
of their Government, that all their
Conquests
over us shall
avail them little,
or perhaps even become a
Charge
to them.
DULLNESS
be praised, all Thoughts are now dropt of making
Ireland
a
Corn Country.
I own, I am surprised their
Clergy
do not attempt it, as it would so much encrease their
Tythes.
They have talked of
publick Granaries,
but it was meer Talk; nor shall I remind them of it.—Indeed an Attempt was once made to encourage
Tillage,
by granting, as in
England,
a
Bounty on Corn exported;
but your
Foolishness
nobly exerted yourself on that Occasion, and defeated the
Project.
You rightly judged, that though
Pasturage
employed the
Land,
it was in
no Shape
so prejudicial to your
Interest
as
Ploughing,
which
fills a Country with laborious Inhabitants.
WITHOUT Vanity I may say, I gave the first
Hint
of
restraining Ireland,
with Regard to WOOLL, and then, I
dexterously contrived,
that the
English
might
smuggle
it as well as
themselves.
The happy Consequence is, that
Thousands of the
French
are amused in manufacturing of it, whilst as many of your Rebel Subjects are starving at Home.
—To my great Joy, this cannot
suddenly
be alter'd; for so long as the
Irish love Mutton,
and feed
Millions of Sheep;
and so long as they have
more Wooll,
than their
home Consumption requires,
so long will they
act
on the Principles of their
Neighbours,
and sell it to the
best Bidder.
—Perhaps your
Foolishness
will be surprized, that so large a Kingdom as
France
or
Spain
should want
Irish
or
English Wooll:
But—let me wisper in your Ear.—
All their Wooll cannot make one Piece of Serge.
—Why this is so, LEEDS, and every Cloathing Town in
England
can better explain than I.—Should they ever attempt a
Change
in this Matter, let us get a
Burrough
or two to
petition
against it, and order your Brother CLAMOUR to attend.— They are truly,
in this Respect,
in
the Way
we wish them in; nor do I believe they will alter, till they are convinced,
That it is more eligible to encourage the Subjects of
Ireland
in some certain Branches of Trade, than by a contrary Conduct, drive those Branches into the Arms of the common Enemy.
THE
general Rule,
and the most successful is,
eternally
to play
one Part
of the
Monarchy
against the
other,
and constantly to keep up
that noble Spirit
of
Grumbling,
and
turning
every Act of their
Government
into
Ridicule.
What MACHIAVEL says of a
Prince,
may well be applied to GREAT-BRITAIN and
Ireland.
They ought above all things carefully to avoid rendering themselves odious or despicable; for such a Conduct protects them from every Danger.
—Could we contrive, not only to make them odious and despicable in the Eyes of their
Neighbours,
but likewise to each other, how happy should we be!
MAY our Endeavours prosper! and may your
Foolishness
once more shine on the
Throne
of your
Ancestors!
—May ENGLAND think hardly of SCOTLAND.—May SCOTLAND abuse IRELAND.—And may IRELAND envy one, and reproach the other!—May this regular Confusion have no
End,
until
that Day,
when your
Foolishness,
in the Fullness of your
Glory,
shall say,
Now indeed are ye all my Children.
SHOULD the Reverse happen, and their Wisdom prevail over us.—Should the PROTESTANT WORKING SCHOOLS in
Ireland
continue to be supported by the Charity of
England,
without which they cannot subsist.—Should the Linen Manufacture of that Kingdom, instead of being ruined, become more powerfully protected and encouraged by this.—Should they fall on equitable Ways, to prevent exporting Wooll to
France.
In short, should they become Wise and Industrious, and by the natural Union of the Members to the
Head, assist
and not
destroy each other.
Should these come to pass, what must become of Us, and Our numerous Offspring!—Forbid it, all ye Gods of Error!—O Misery! all that could remain for us, would be to fly to ROME, AVIGNON,
Boulogn,
or
St. Germains.
—There bemoan our
unhappy Fate,
talk of our former Splendor, and
live
on the
Bounty of our Relations; for work we cannot, but to beg we are not ashamed.
—There with my latest Breath I shall
honour
and
revere
your
Name,
and
expire
in a
Wish
for your
Restoration.
I am with all Duty,
Your most faithful and Affectionate Kinsman,
Thomas à Stupidius.
FINIS.
This Day is publish'd,
THE Practical SURVEYOR, OR, THE Art of
Land-Measuring
made EASY.
Shewing by plain and familiar Rules, how to Survey any Piece of Land whatsoever, by the Plain-Table, Theodolite, or Circumferentor: or, by the Chain only. And how to Protract, Cast up, Reduce and Divide the same. Likewise, an easy Method of Protracting Observations made with the Meridian; and how to cast up the Content of any Plot of Land, by reducing any Multangular Figure to one Triangle. To which is added, an Appendix, Shewing how to Draw Buildings, &c. in Perspective: of Levelling; and also how to Measure standing Timber
By SAMUEL WYLD. The Third Edition; corrected and enlarged by a careful Hand; and illustrated with several Copper Plates.
Printed for H. Lintot, and sold by W. Johnston, at the Golden-Ball in St. Paul's Church-yard. Price Three Shillings.
This Day is published,
Dedicated to the Right Honourable
Philip
Earl of
Chesterfield.
The Second Edition of LES MOEURS;
or,
MANNERS.
Accurately Translated from the
French. Wherein the Principles of
Morality,
or
Social Duties,
viz.
Piety, Wisdom, Prudence, Fortitude, Justice, Temperance, Love, Friendship, Humanity,
&c. &c. are described in all their Branches; the Obligations of them shown to consist in our Nature, and the Enlargement of them strongly enforc'd. Here Parents are taught, that, giving Birth to a Child, scarcely entitles them to that honourable Name, without a strict Discharge of Parental Duties; the Friend will find, there are a Thousand other Decorums, besides the doing of a Favour, to entitle him to the tender Name of Friend; and the Good-natur'd Man will find, he ought to extend that Quality beyond the Bounds of his own Neighbourhood or Party.
The Whole wrote in a Manner entirely
New
and
Entertaining,
and enliven'd with
real Characters,
drawn from
Life,
and fitted to instill the Principles of all
social Virtues
into
tender Minds.
Printed for W. Johnston at the Golden Ball in St. Paul's Church Yard.
Be careful to ask for the MANNERS dedicated to the Earl of CHESTERFIELD.