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diff --git a/old/mnfl10h.htm b/old/mnfl10h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..e6a34cb --- /dev/null +++ b/old/mnfl10h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,4239 @@ +<!DOCTYPE HTML PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD HTML 4.01//EN"> +<html> +<head> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=US-ASCII"> +<title>The Man of Feeling</title> +</head> +<body> +<h2> +<a href="#startoftext">The Man of Feeling, by Henry Mackenzie</a> +</h2> +<pre> +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Man of Feeling, by Henry Mackenzie +(#1 in our series by Henry Mackenzie) + +Copyright laws are changing all over the world. Be sure to check the +copyright laws for your country before downloading or redistributing +this or any other Project Gutenberg eBook. + +This header should be the first thing seen when viewing this Project +Gutenberg file. Please do not remove it. Do not change or edit the +header without written permission. + +Please read the "legal small print," and other information about the +eBook and Project Gutenberg at the bottom of this file. Included is +important information about your specific rights and restrictions in +how the file may be used. You can also find out about how to make a +donation to Project Gutenberg, and how to get involved. + + +**Welcome To The World of Free Plain Vanilla Electronic Texts** + +**eBooks Readable By Both Humans and By Computers, Since 1971** + +*****These eBooks Were Prepared By Thousands of Volunteers!***** + + +Title: The Man of Feeling + +Author: Henry Mackenzie + +Release Date: February, 2004 [EBook #5083] +[Yes, we are more than one year ahead of schedule] +[This file was first posted on April 18, 2002] +[Most recently updated: April 18, 2002] + +Edition: 10 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII +</pre> +<p> +<a name="startoftext"></a> +Transcribed by David Price, email ccx074@coventry.ac.uk, from the 1886 +Cassell & Company edition.<br> +***<br> +THE MAN OF FEELING<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +EDITOR’S INTRODUCTION<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +Henry Mackenzie, the son of an Edinburgh physician, was born in August, +1745. After education in the University of Edinburgh he went to +London in 1765, at the age of twenty, for law studies, returned to Edinburgh, +and became Crown Attorney in the Scottish Court of Exchequer. +When Mackenzie was in London, Sterne’s “Tristram Shandy” +was in course of publication. The first two volumes had appeared +in 1759, and the ninth appeared in 1767, followed in 1768, the year +of Sterne’s death, by “The Sentimental Journey.” +Young Mackenzie had a strong bent towards literature, and while studying +law in London, he read Sterne, and falling in with the tone of sentiment +which Sterne himself caught from the spirit of the time and the example +of Rousseau, he wrote “The Man of Feeling.” This book +was published, without author’s name, in 1771. It was so +popular that a young clergyman made a copy of it popular with imagined +passages of erasure and correction, on the strength of which he claimed +to be its author, and obliged Henry Mackenzie to declare himself. +In 1773 Mackenzie published a second novel, “The Man of the World,” +and in 1777 a third, “Julia de Roubigné.” An +essay-reading society in Edinburgh, of which he was a leader, started +in January, 1779, a weekly paper called <i>The Mirror, </i>which he +edited until May, 1780. Its writers afterwards joined in producing +<i>The Lounger, </i>which lasted from February, 1785, to January, 1787. +Henry Mackenzie contributed forty-two papers to <i>The Mirror </i>and +fifty-seven to <i>The Lounger</i>. When the Royal Society of Edinburgh +was founded Henry Mackenzie was active as one of its first members. +He was also one of the founders of the Highland Society.<br> +<br> +Although his “Man of Feeling” was a serious reflection of +the false sentiment of the Revolution, Mackenzie joined afterwards in +writing tracts to dissuade the people from faith in the doctrines of +the Revolutionists. Mackenzie wrote also a tragedy, “The +Prince of Tunis,” which was acted with success at Edinburgh, and +a comedy, “The White Hypocrite,” which was acted once only +at Covent garden. He died at the age of eighty-six, on the 13th +June, 1831, having for many years been regarded as an elder friend of +their own craft by the men of letters who in his days gave dignity to +Edinburgh society, and caused the town to be called the Modern Athens.<br> +<br> +A man of refined taste, who caught the tone of the French sentiment +of his time, has, of course, pleased French critics, and has been translated +into French. “The Man of Feeling” begins with imitation +of Sterne, and proceeds in due course through so many tears that it +is hardly to be called a dry book. As guide to persons of a calculating +disposition who may read these pages I append an index to the Tears +shed in “The Man of Feeling.”<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +AUTHOR’S INTRODUCTION<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +My dog had made a point on a piece of fallow-ground, and led the curate +and me two or three hundred yards over that and some stubble adjoining, +in a breathless state of expectation, on a burning first of September.<br> +<br> +It was a false point, and our labour was vain: yet, to do Rover justice +(for he’s an excellent dog, though I have lost his pedigree), +the fault was none of his, the birds were gone: the curate showed me +the spot where they had lain basking, at the root of an old hedge.<br> +<br> +I stopped and cried Hem! The curate is fatter than I; he wiped +the sweat from his brow.<br> +<br> +There is no state where one is apter to pause and look round one, than +after such a disappointment. It is even so in life. When +we have been hurrying on, impelled by some warm wish or other, looking +neither to the right hand nor to the left - we find of a sudden that +all our gay hopes are flown; and the only slender consolation that some +friend can give us, is to point where they were once to be found. +And lo! if we are not of that combustible race, who will rather beat +their heads in spite, than wipe their brows with the curate, we look +round and say, with the nauseated listlessness of the king of Israel, +“All is vanity and vexation of spirit.”<br> +<br> +I looked round with some such grave apophthegm in my mind when I discovered, +for the first time, a venerable pile, to which the enclosure belonged. +An air of melancholy hung about it. There was a languid stillness +in the day, and a single crow, that perched on an old tree by the side +of the gate, seemed to delight in the echo of its own croaking.<br> +<br> +I leaned on my gun and looked; but I had not breath enough to ask the +curate a question. I observed carving on the bark of some of the +trees: ’twas indeed the only mark of human art about the place, +except that some branches appeared to have been lopped, to give a view +of the cascade, which was formed by a little rill at some distance.<br> +<br> +Just at that instant I saw pass between the trees a young lady with +a book in her hand. I stood upon a stone to observe her; but the +curate sat him down on the grass, and leaning his back where I stood, +told me, “That was the daughter of a neighbouring gentleman of +the name of WALTON, whom he had seen walking there more than once.<br> +<br> +“Some time ago,” he said, “one HARLEY lived there, +a whimsical sort of man I am told, but I was not then in the cure; though, +if I had a turn for those things, I might know a good deal of his history, +for the greatest part of it is still in my possession.”<br> +<br> +“His history!” said I. “Nay, you may call it +what you please,” said the curate; for indeed it is no more a +history than it is a sermon. The way I came by it was this: some +time ago, a grave, oddish kind of a man boarded at a farmer’s +in this parish: the country people called him The Ghost; and he was +known by the slouch in his gait, and the length of his stride. +I was but little acquainted with him, for he never frequented any of +the clubs hereabouts. Yet for all he used to walk a-nights, he +was as gentle as a lamb at times; for I have seen him playing at teetotum +with the children, on the great stone at the door of our churchyard.<br> +<br> +“Soon after I was made curate, he left the parish, and went nobody +knows whither; and in his room was found a bundle of papers, which was +brought to me by his landlord. I began to read them, but I soon +grew weary of the task; for, besides that the hand is intolerably bad, +I could never find the author in one strain for two chapters together; +and I don’t believe there’s a single syllogism from beginning +to end.”<br> +<br> +“I should be glad to see this medley,” said I. “You +shall see it now,” answered the curate, “for I always take +it along with me a-shooting.” “How came it so torn?” +“’Tis excellent wadding,” said the curate. - This +was a plea of expediency I was not in a condition to answer; for I had +actually in my pocket great part of an edition of one of the German +Illustrissimi, for the very same purpose. We exchanged books; +and by that means (for the curate was a strenuous logician) we probably +saved both.<br> +<br> +When I returned to town, I had leisure to peruse the acquisition I had +made: I found it a bundle of little episodes, put together without art, +and of no importance on the whole, with something of nature, and little +else in them. I was a good deal affected with some very trifling +passages in it; and had the name of Marmontel, or a Richardson, been +on the title-page - ’tis odds that I should have wept: But<br> +<br> +One is ashamed to be pleased with the works of one knows not whom.<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +CHAPTER XI <a name="citation16"></a><a href="#footnote16">{16}</a> - +ON BASHFULNESS. - A CHARACTER. - HIS OPINION ON THAT SUBJECT<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +There is some rust about every man at the beginning; though in some +nations (among the French for instance) the ideas of the inhabitants, +from climate, or what other cause you will, are so vivacious, so eternally +on the wing, that they must, even in small societies, have a frequent +collision; the rust therefore will wear off sooner: but in Britain it +often goes with a man to his grave; nay, he dares not even pen a <i>hic +jacet </i>to speak out for him after his death.<br> +<br> +“Let them rub it off by travel,” said the baronet’s +brother, who was a striking instance of excellent metal, shamefully +rusted. I had drawn my chair near his. Let me paint the +honest old man: ’tis but one passing sentence to preserve his +image in my mind.<br> +<br> +He sat in his usual attitude, with his elbow rested on his knee, and +his fingers pressed on his cheek. His face was shaded by his hand; +yet it was a face that might once have been well accounted handsome; +its features were manly and striking, a dignity resided on his eyebrows, +which were the largest I remember to have seen. His person was +tall and well-made; but the indolence of his nature had now inclined +it to corpulency.<br> +<br> +His remarks were few, and made only to his familiar friends; but they +were such as the world might have heard with veneration: and his heart, +uncorrupted by its ways, was ever warm in the cause of virtue and his +friends.<br> +<br> +He is now forgotten and gone! The last time I was at Silton Hall, +I saw his chair stand in its corner by the fire-side; there was an additional +cushion on it, and it was occupied by my young lady’s favourite +lap dog. I drew near unperceived, and pinched its ears in the +bitterness of my soul; the creature howled, and ran to its mistress. +She did not suspect the author of its misfortune, but she bewailed it +in the most pathetic terms; and kissing its lips, laid it gently on +her lap, and covered it with a cambric handkerchief. I sat in +my old friend’s seat; I heard the roar of mirth and gaiety around +me: poor Ben Silton! I gave thee a tear then: accept of one cordial +drop that falls to thy memory now.<br> +<br> +“They should wear it off by travel.” - Why, it is true, +said I, that will go far; but then it will often happen, that in the +velocity of a modern tour, and amidst the materials through which it +is commonly made, the friction is so violent, that not only the rust, +but the metal too, is lost in the progress.<br> +<br> +“Give me leave to correct the expression of your metaphor,” +said Mr. Silton: “that is not always rust which is acquired by +the inactivity of the body on which it preys; such, perhaps, is the +case with me, though indeed I was never cleared from my youth; but (taking +it in its first stage) it is rather an encrustation, which nature has +given for purposes of the greatest wisdom.”<br> +<br> +“You are right,” I returned; “and sometimes, like +certain precious fossils, there may be hid under it gems of the purest +brilliancy.”<br> +<br> +“Nay, farther,” continued Mr. Silton, “there are two +distinct sorts of what we call bashfulness; this, the awkwardness of +a booby, which a few steps into the world will convert into the pertness +of a coxcomb; that, a consciousness, which the most delicate feelings +produce, and the most extensive knowledge cannot always remove.”<br> +<br> +From the incidents I have already related, I imagine it will be concluded +that Harley was of the latter species of bashful animals; at least, +if Mr. Silton’s principle is just, it may be argued on this side; +for the gradation of the first mentioned sort, it is certain, he never +attained. Some part of his external appearance was modelled from +the company of those gentlemen, whom the antiquity of a family, now +possessed of bare £250 a year, entitled its representative to +approach: these indeed were not many; great part of the property in +his neighbourhood being in the hands of merchants, who had got rich +by their lawful calling abroad, and the sons of stewards, who had got +rich by their lawful calling at home: persons so perfectly versed in +the ceremonial of thousands, tens of thousands, and hundreds of thousands +(whose degrees of precedency are plainly demonstrable from the first +page of the Complete Accomptant, or Young Man’s Best Pocket Companion) +that a bow at church from them to such a man as Harley would have made +the parson look back into his sermon for some precept of Christian humility.<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +CHAPTER XII - OF WORLDLY INTERESTS<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +There are certain interests which the world supposes every man to have, +and which therefore are properly enough termed worldly; but the world +is apt to make an erroneous estimate: ignorant of the dispositions which +constitute our happiness or misery, they bring to an undistinguished +scale the means of the one, as connected with power, wealth, or grandeur, +and of the other with their contraries. Philosophers and poets +have often protested against this decision; but their arguments have +been despised as declamatory, or ridiculed as romantic.<br> +<br> +There are never wanting to a young man some grave and prudent friends +to set him right in this particular, if he need it; to watch his ideas +as they arise, and point them to those objects which a wise man should +never forget.<br> +<br> +Harley did not want for some monitors of this sort. He was frequently +told of men whose fortunes enabled them to command all the luxuries +of life, whose fortunes were of their own acquirement: his envy was +invited by a description of their happiness, and his emulation by a +recital of the means which had procured it.<br> +<br> +Harley was apt to hear those lectures with indifference; nay, sometimes +they got the better of his temper; and as the instances were not always +amiable, provoked, on his part, some reflections, which I am persuaded +his good-nature would else have avoided.<br> +<br> +Indeed, I have observed one ingredient, somewhat necessary in a man’s +composition towards happiness, which people of feeling would do well +to acquire; a certain respect for the follies of mankind: for there +are so many fools whom the opinion of the world entitles to regard, +whom accident has placed in heights of which they are unworthy, that +he who cannot restrain his contempt or indignation at the sight will +be too often quarrelling with the disposal of things to relish that +share which is allotted to himself. I do not mean, however, to +insinuate this to have been the case with Harley; on the contrary, if +we might rely on his own testimony, the conceptions he had of pomp and +grandeur served to endear the state which Providence had assigned him.<br> +<br> +He lost his father, the last surviving of his parents, as I have already +related, when he was a boy. The good man, from a fear of offending, +as well as a regard to his son, had named him a variety of guardians; +one consequence of which was, that they seldom met at all to consider +the affairs of their ward; and when they did meet, their opinions were +so opposite, that the only possible method of conciliation was the mediatory +power of a dinner and a bottle, which commonly interrupted, not ended, +the dispute; and after that interruption ceased, left the consulting +parties in a condition not very proper for adjusting it. His education +therefore had been but indifferently attended to; and after being taken +from a country school, at which he had been boarded, the young gentleman +was suffered to be his own master in the subsequent branches of literature, +with some assistance from the parson of the parish in languages and +philosophy, and from the exciseman in arithmetic and book-keeping. +One of his guardians, indeed, who, in his youth, had been an inhabitant +of the Temple, set him to read Coke upon Lyttelton: a book which is +very properly put into the hands of beginners in that science, as its +simplicity is accommodated to their understandings, and its size to +their inclination. He profited but little by the perusal; but +it was not without its use in the family: for his maiden aunt applied +it commonly to the laudable purpose of pressing her rebellious linens +to the folds she had allotted them.<br> +<br> +There were particularly two ways of increasing his fortune, which might +have occurred to people of less foresight than the counsellors we have +mentioned. One of these was, the prospect of his succeeding to +an old lady, a distant relation, who was known to be possessed of a +very large sum in the stocks: but in this their hopes were disappointed; +for the young man was so untoward in his disposition, that, notwithstanding +the instructions he daily received, his visits rather tended to alienate +than gain the good-will of his kinswoman. He sometimes looked +grave when the old lady told the jokes of her youth; he often refused +to eat when she pressed him, and was seldom or never provided with sugar-candy +or liquorice when she was seized with a fit of coughing: nay, he had +once the rudeness to fall asleep while she was describing the composition +and virtues of her favourite cholic-water. In short, be accommodated +himself so ill to her humour, that she died, and did not leave him a +farthing.<br> +<br> +The other method pointed out to him was an endeavour to get a lease +of some crown-lands, which lay contiguous to his little paternal estate. +This, it was imagined, might be easily procured, as the crown did not +draw so much rent as Harley could afford to give, with very considerable +profit to himself; and the then lessee had rendered himself so obnoxious +to the ministry, by the disposal of his vote at an election, that he +could not expect a renewal. This, however, needed some interest +with the great, which Harley or his father never possessed.<br> +<br> +His neighbour, Mr. Walton, having heard of this affair, generously offered +his assistance to accomplish it. He told him, that though he had +long been a stranger to courtiers, yet he believed there were some of +them who might pay regard to his recommendation; and that, if he thought +it worth the while to take a London journey upon the business, he would +furnish him with a letter of introduction to a baronet of his acquaintance, +who had a great deal to say with the first lord of the treasury.<br> +<br> +When his friends heard of this offer, they pressed him with the utmost +earnestness to accept of it.<br> +<br> +They did not fail to enumerate the many advantages which a certain degree +of spirit and assurance gives a man who would make a figure in the world: +they repeated their instances of good fortune in others, ascribed them +all to a happy forwardness of disposition; and made so copious a recital +of the disadvantages which attend the opposite weakness, that a stranger, +who had heard them, would have been led to imagine, that in the British +code there was some disqualifying statute against any citizen who should +be convicted of - modesty.<br> +<br> +Harley, though he had no great relish for the attempt, yet could not +resist the torrent of motives that assaulted him; and as he needed but +little preparation for his journey, a day, not very distant, was fixed +for his departure.<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +CHAPTER XIII - THE MAN OF FEELING IN LOVE<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +The day before that on which he set out, he went to take leave of Mr. +Walton. - We would conceal nothing; - there was another person of the +family to whom also the visit was intended, on whose account, perhaps, +there were some tenderer feelings in the bosom of Harley than his gratitude +for the friendly notice of that gentleman (though he was seldom deficient +in that virtue) could inspire. Mr. Walton had a daughter; and +such a daughter! we will attempt some description of her by and by.<br> +<br> +Harley’s notions of the καλον, or +beautiful, were not always to be defined, nor indeed such as the world +would always assent to, though we could define them. A blush, +a phrase of affability to an inferior, a tear at a moving tale, were +to him, like the Cestus of Cytherea, unequalled in conferring beauty. +For all these Miss Walton was remarkable; but as these, like the above-mentioned +Cestus, are perhaps still more powerful when the wearer is possessed +of souse degree of beauty, commonly so called, it happened, that, from +this cause, they had more than usual power in the person of that young +lady.<br> +<br> +She was now arrived at that period of life which takes, or is supposed +to take, from the flippancy of girlhood those sprightlinesses with which +some good-natured old maids oblige the world at three-score. She +had been ushered into life (as that word is used in the dialect of St. +James’s) at seventeen, her father being then in parliament, and +living in London: at seventeen, therefore, she had been a universal +toast; her health, now she was four-and-twenty, was only drank by those +who knew her face at least. Her complexion was mellowed into a +paleness, which certainly took from her beauty; but agreed, at least +Harley used to say so, with the pensive softness of her mind. +Her eyes were of that gentle hazel colour which is rather mild than +piercing; and, except when they were lighted up by good-humour, which +was frequently the case, were supposed by the fine gentlemen to want +fire. Her air and manner were elegant in the highest degree, and +were as sure of commanding respect as their mistress was far from demanding +it. Her voice was inexpressibly soft; it was, according to that +incomparable simile of Otway’s,<br> +<br> +<br> +- “like the shepherd’s pipe upon the mountains,<br> +When all his little flock’s at feed before him.”<br> +<br> +<br> +The effect it had upon Harley, himself used to paint ridiculously enough; +and ascribed it to powers, which few believed, and nobody cared for.<br> +<br> +Her conversation was always cheerful, but rarely witty; and without +the smallest affectation of learning, had as much sentiment in it as +would have puzzled a Turk, upon his principles of female materialism, +to account for. Her beneficence was unbounded; indeed the natural +tenderness of her heart might have been argued, by the frigidity of +a casuist, as detracting from her virtue in this respect, for her humanity +was a feeling, not a principle: but minds like Harley’s are not +very apt to make this distinction, and generally give our virtue credit +for all that benevolence which is instinctive in our nature.<br> +<br> +As her father had some years retired to the country, Harley had frequent +opportunities of seeing her. He looked on her for some time merely +with that respect and admiration which her appearance seemed to demand, +and the opinion of others conferred upon her from this cause, perhaps, +and from that extreme sensibility of which we have taken frequent notice, +Harley was remarkably silent in her presence. He heard her sentiments +with peculiar attention, sometimes with looks very expressive of approbation; +but seldom declared his opinion on the subject, much less made compliments +to the lady on the justness of her remarks.<br> +<br> +From this very reason it was that Miss Walton frequently took more particular +notice of him than of other visitors, who, by the laws of precedency, +were better entitled to it: it was a mode of politeness she had peculiarly +studied, to bring to the line of that equality, which is ever necessary +for the ease of our guests, those whose sensibility had placed them +below it.<br> +<br> +Harley saw this; for though he was a child in the drama of the world, +yet was it not altogether owing to a want of knowledge on his part; +on the contrary, the most delicate consciousness of propriety often +kindled that blush which marred the performance of it: this raised his +esteem something above what the most sanguine descriptions of her goodness +had been able to do; for certain it is, that notwithstanding the laboured +definitions which very wise men have given us of the inherent beauty +of virtue, we are always inclined to think her handsomest when she condescends +to smile upon ourselves.<br> +<br> +It would be trite to observe the easy gradation from esteem to love: +in the bosom of Harley there scarce needed a transition; for there were +certain seasons when his ideas were flushed to a degree much above their +common complexion. In times not credulous of inspiration, we should +account for this from some natural cause; but we do not mean to account +for it at all; it were sufficient to describe its effects; but they +were sometimes so ludicrous, as might derogate from the dignity of the +sensations which produced them to describe. They were treated +indeed as such by most of Harley’s sober friends, who often laughed +very heartily at the awkward blunders of the real Harley, when the different +faculties, which should have prevented them, were entirely occupied +by the ideal. In some of these paroxysms of fancy, Miss Walton +did not fail to be introduced; and the picture which had been drawn +amidst the surrounding objects of unnoticed levity was now singled out +to be viewed through the medium of romantic imagination: it was improved +of course, and esteem was a word inexpressive of the feelings which +it excited.<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +CHAPTER XIV - HE SETS OUT ON HIS JOURNEY - THE BEGGAR AND HIS DOG<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +He had taken leave of his aunt on the eve of his intended departure; +but the good lady’s affection for her nephew interrupted her sleep, +and early as it was next morning when Harley came downstairs to set +out, he found her in the parlour with a tear on her cheek, and her caudle-cup +in her hand. She knew enough of physic to prescribe against going +abroad of a morning with an empty stomach. She gave her blessing +with the draught; her instructions she had delivered the night before. +They consisted mostly of negatives, for London, in her idea, was so +replete with temptations that it needed the whole armour of her friendly +cautions to repel their attacks.<br> +<br> +Peter stood at the door. We have mentioned this faithful fellow +formerly: Harley’s father had taken him up an orphan, and saved +him from being cast on the parish; and he had ever since remained in +the service of him and of his son. Harley shook him by the hand +as he passed, smiling, as if he had said, “I will not weep.” +He sprung hastily into the chaise that waited for him; Peter folded +up the step. “My dear master,” said he, shaking the +solitary lock that hung on either side of his head, “I have been +told as how London is a sad place.” He was choked with the +thought, and his benediction could not be heard: - but it shall be heard, +honest Peter! where these tears will add to its energy.<br> +<br> +In a few hours Harley reached the inn where he proposed breakfasting, +but the fulness of his heart would not suffer him to eat a morsel. +He walked out on the road, and gaining a little height, stood gazing +on that quarter he had left. He looked for his wonted prospect, +his fields, his woods, and his hills: they were lost in the distant +clouds! He pencilled them on the clouds, and bade them farewell +with a sigh!<br> +<br> +He sat down on a large stone to take out a little pebble from his shoe, +when he saw, at some distance, a beggar approaching him. He had +on a loose sort of coat, mended with different-coloured rags, amongst +which the blue and the russet were the predominant. He had a short +knotty stick in his hand, and on the top of it was stuck a ram’s +horn; his knees (though he was no pilgrim) had worn the stuff of his +breeches; he wore no shoes, and his stockings had entirely lost that +part of them which should have covered his feet and ankles; in his face, +however, was the plump appearance of good humour; he walked a good round +pace, and a crook-legged dog trotted at his heels.<br> +<br> +“Our delicacies,” said Harley to himself, “are fantastic; +they are not in nature! that beggar walks over the sharpest of these +stones barefooted, whilst I have lost the most delightful dream in the +world, from the smallest of them happening to get into my shoe.” +The beggar had by this time come up, and, pulling off a piece of hat, +asked charity of Harley; the dog began to beg too: - it was impossible +to resist both; and, in truth, the want of shoes and stockings had made +both unnecessary, for Harley had destined sixpence for him before. +The beggar, on receiving it, poured forth blessings without number; +and, with a sort of smile on his countenance, said to Harley “that +if he wanted to have his fortune told” - Harley turned his eye +briskly on the beggar: it was an unpromising look for the subject of +a prediction, and silenced the prophet immediately. “I would +much rather learn,” said Harley, “what it is in your power +to tell me: your trade must be an entertaining one; sit down on this +stone, and let me know something of your profession; I have often thought +of turning fortune-teller for a week or two myself.”<br> +<br> +“Master,” replied the beggar, “I like your frankness +much; God knows I had the humour of plain-dealing in me from a child, +but there is no doing with it in this world; we must live as we can, +and lying is, as you call it, my profession, but I was in some sort +forced to the trade, for I dealt once in telling truth.<br> +<br> +“I was a labourer, sir, and gained as much as to make me live: +I never laid by indeed: for I was reckoned a piece of a wag, and your +wags, I take it, are seldom rich, Mr. Harley.”<br> +<br> +“So,” said Harley, “you seem to know me.”<br> +<br> +“Ay, there are few folks in the country that I don’t know +something of: how should I tell fortunes else?”<br> +<br> +“True; but to go on with your story: you were a labourer, you +say, and a wag; your industry, I suppose, you left with your old trade, +but your humour you preserve to be of use to you in your new.”<br> +<br> +“What signifies sadness, sir? a man grows lean on’t: but +I was brought to my idleness by degrees; first I could not work, and +it went against my stomach to work ever after. I was seized with +a jail fever at the time of the assizes being in the county where I +lived; for I was always curious to get acquainted with the felons, because +they are commonly fellows of much mirth and little thought, qualities +I had ever an esteem for. In the height of this fever, Mr. Harley, +the house where I lay took fire, and burnt to the ground; I was carried +out in that condition, and lay all the rest of my illness in a barn. +I got the better of my disease, however, but I was so weak that I spit +blood whenever I attempted to work. I had no relation living that +I knew of, and I never kept a friend above a week, when I was able to +joke; I seldom remained above six months in a parish, so that I might +have died before I had found a settlement in any: thus I was forced +to beg my bread, and a sorry trade I found it, Mr. Harley. I told +all my misfortunes truly, but they were seldom believed; and the few +who gave me a halfpenny as they passed did it with a shake of the head, +and an injunction not to trouble them with a long story. In short, +I found that people don’t care to give alms without some security +for their money; a wooden leg or a withered arm is a sort of draught +upon heaven for those who choose to have their money placed to account +there; so I changed my plan, and, instead of telling my own misfortunes, +began to prophesy happiness to others. This I found by much the +better way: folks will always listen when the tale is their own, and +of many who say they do not believe in fortune-telling, I have known +few on whom it had not a very sensible effect. I pick up the names +of their acquaintance; amours and little squabbles are easily gleaned +among servants and neighbours; and indeed people themselves are the +best intelligencers in the world for our purpose: they dare not puzzle +us for their own sakes, for every one is anxious to hear what they wish +to believe, and they who repeat it, to laugh at it when they have done, +are generally more serious than their hearers are apt to imagine. +With a tolerable good memory, and some share of cunning, with the help +of walking a-nights over heaths and church-yards, with this, and showing +the tricks of that there dog, whom I stole from the serjeant of a marching +regiment (and by the way, he can steal too upon occasion), I make shift +to pick up a livelihood. My trade, indeed, is none of the honestest; +yet people are not much cheated neither who give a few half-pence for +a prospect of happiness, which I have heard some persons say is all +a man can arrive at in this world. But I must bid you good day, +sir, for I have three miles to walk before noon, to inform some boarding-school +young ladies whether their husbands are to be peers of the realm or +captains in the army: a question which I promised to answer them by +that time.”<br> +<br> +Harley had drawn a shilling from his pocket; but Virtue bade him consider +on whom he was going to bestow it. Virtue held back his arm; but +a milder form, a younger sister of Virtue’s, not so severe as +Virtue, nor so serious as Pity, smiled upon him; his fingers lost their +compression, nor did Virtue offer to catch the money as it fell. +It had no sooner reached the ground than the watchful cur (a trick he +had been taught) snapped it up, and, contrary to the most approved method +of stewardship, delivered it immediately into the hands of his master.<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +CHAPTER XIX - HE MAKES A SECOND EXPEDITION TO THE BARONET’S. +THE LAUDABLE AMBITION OF A YOUNG MAN TO BE THOUGHT SOMETHING BY THE +WORLD<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +We have related, in a former chapter, the little success of his first +visit to the great man, for whom he had the introductory letter from +Mr. Walton. To people of equal sensibility, the influence of those +trifles we mentioned on his deportment will not appear surprising, but +to his friends in the country they could not be stated, nor would they +have allowed them any place in the account. In some of their letters, +therefore, which he received soon after, they expressed their surprise +at his not having been more urgent in his application, and again recommended +the blushless assiduity of successful merit.<br> +<br> +He resolved to make another attempt at the baronet’s; fortified +with higher notions of his own dignity, and with less apprehension of +repulse. In his way to Grosvenor Square he began to ruminate on +the folly of mankind, who affixed those ideas of superiority to riches, +which reduced the minds of men, by nature equal with the more fortunate, +to that sort of servility which he felt in his own. By the time +he had reached the Square, and was walking along the pavement which +led to the baronet’s, he had brought his reasoning on the subject +to such a point, that the conclusion, by every rule of logic, should +have led him to a thorough indifference in his approaches to a fellow-mortal, +whether that fellow-mortal was possessed of six or six thousand pounds +a year. It is probable, however, that the premises had been improperly +formed: for it is certain, that when he approached the great man’s +door he felt his heart agitated by an unusual pulsation.<br> +<br> +He had almost reached it, when he observed among gentleman coming out, +dressed in a white frock and a red laced waistcoat, with a small switch +in his hand, which he seemed to manage with a particular good grace. +As he passed him on the steps, the stranger very politely made him a +bow, which Harley returned, though he could not remember ever having +seen him before. He asked Harley, in the same civil manner, if +he was going to wait on his friend the baronet. “For I was +just calling,” said he, “and am sorry to find that he is +gone for some days into the country.”<br> +<br> +Harley thanked him for his information, and was turning from the door, +when the other observed that it would be proper to leave his name, and +very obligingly knocked for that purpose.<br> +<br> +“Here is a gentleman, Tom, who meant to have waited on your master.”<br> +<br> +“Your name, if you please, sir?”<br> +<br> +“Harley.”<br> +<br> +“You’ll remember, Tom, Harley.”<br> +<br> +The door was shut. “Since we are here,” said he, “we +shall not lose our walk if we add a little to it by a turn or two in +Hyde Park.”<br> +<br> +He accompanied this proposal with a second bow, and Harley accepted +of it by another in return.<br> +<br> +The conversation, as they walked, was brilliant on the side of his companion. +The playhouse, the opera, with every occurrence in high life, he seemed +perfectly master of; and talked of some reigning beauties of quality +in a manner the most feeling in the world. Harley admired the +happiness of his vivacity, and, opposite as it was to the reserve of +his own nature, began to be much pleased with its effects.<br> +<br> +Though I am not of opinion with some wise men, that the existence of +objects depends on idea, yet I am convinced that their appearance is +not a little influenced by it. The optics of some minds are in +so unlucky a perspective as to throw a certain shade on every picture +that is presented to them, while those of others (of which number was +Harley), like the mirrors of the ladies, have a wonderful effect in +bettering their complexions. Through such a medium perhaps he +was looking on his present companion.<br> +<br> +When they had finished their walk, and were returning by the corner +of the Park, they observed a board hung out of a window signifying, +“An excellent ORDINARY on Saturdays and Sundays.” +It happened to be Saturday, and the table was covered for the purpose.<br> +<br> +“What if we should go in and dine here, if you happen not to be +engaged, sir?” said the young gentleman. “It is not +impossible but we shall meet with some original or other; it is a sort +of humour I like hugely.”<br> +<br> +Harley made no objection, and the stranger showed him the way into the +parlour.<br> +<br> +He was placed, by the courtesy of his introductor, in an arm-chair that +stood at one side of the fire. Over against him was seated a man +of a grave considering aspect, with that look of sober prudence which +indicates what is commonly called a warm man. He wore a pretty +large wig, which had once been white, but was now of a brownish yellow; +his coat was one of those modest-coloured drabs which mock the injuries +of dust and dirt; two jack-boots concealed, in part, the well-mended +knees of an old pair of buckskin breeches; while the spotted handkerchief +round his neck preserved at once its owner from catching cold and his +neck-cloth from being dirtied. Next him sat another man, with +a tankard in his hand and a quid of tobacco in his cheek, whose eye +was rather more vivacious, and whose dress was something smarter.<br> +<br> +The first-mentioned gentleman took notice that the room had been so +lately washed, as not to have had time to dry, and remarked that wet +lodging was unwholesome for man or beast. He looked round at the +same time for a poker to stir the fire with, which, he at last observed +to the company, the people of the house had removed in order to save +their coals. This difficulty, however, he overcame by the help +of Harley’s stick, saying, “that as they should, no doubt, +pay for their fire in some shape or other, he saw no reason why they +should not have the use of it while they sat.”<br> +<br> +The door was now opened for the admission of dinner. “I +don’t know how it is with you, gentlemen,” said Harley’s +new acquaintance, “but I am afraid I shall not be able to get +down a morsel at this horrid mechanical hour of dining.” +He sat down, however, and did not show any want of appetite by his eating. +He took upon him the carving of the meat, and criticised on the goodness +of the pudding.<br> +<br> +When the table-cloth was removed, he proposed calling for some punch, +which was readily agreed to; he seemed at first inclined to make it +himself, but afterwards changed his mind, and left that province to +the waiter, telling him to have it pure West Indian, or he could not +taste a drop of it.<br> +<br> +When the punch was brought he undertook to fill the glasses and call +the toasts. “The King.” - The toast naturally produced +politics. It is the privilege of Englishmen to drink the king’s +health, and to talk of his conduct. The man who sat opposite to +Harley (and who by this time, partly from himself, and partly from his +acquaintance on his left hand, was discovered to be a grazier) observed, +“That it was a shame for so many pensioners to be allowed to take +the bread out of the mouth of the poor.”<br> +<br> +“Ay, and provisions,” said his friend, “were never +so dear in the memory of man; I wish the king and his counsellors would +look to that.”<br> +<br> +“As for the matter of provisions, neighbour Wrightson,” +he replied, “I am sure the prices of cattle - ”<br> +<br> +A dispute would have probably ensued, but it was prevented by the spruce +toastmaster, who gave a sentiment, and turning to the two politicians, +“Pray, gentlemen,” said he, “let us have done with +these musty politics: I would always leave them to the beer-suckers +in Butcher Row. Come, let us have something of the fine arts. +That was a damn’d hard match between Joe the Nailor and Tim Bucket. +The knowing ones were cursedly taken in there! I lost a cool hundred +myself, faith.”<br> +<br> +At mention of the cool hundred, the grazier threw his eyes aslant, with +a mingled look of doubt and surprise; while the man at his elbow looked +arch, and gave a short emphatical sort of cough.<br> +<br> +Both seemed to be silenced, however, by this intelligence; and while +the remainder of the punch lasted the conversation was wholly engrossed +by the gentleman with the fine waistcoat, who told a great many “immense +comical stories” and “confounded smart things,” as +he termed them, acted and spoken by lords, ladies, and young bucks of +quality, of his acquaintance. At last, the grazier, pulling out +a watch, of a very unusual size, and telling the hour, said that he +had an appointment.<br> +<br> +“Is it so late?” said the young gentleman; “then I +am afraid I have missed an appointment already; but the truth is, I +am cursedly given to missing of appointments.”<br> +<br> +When the grazier and he were gone, Harley turned to the remaining personage, +and asked him if he knew that young gentleman. “A gentleman!” +said he; “ay, he is one of your gentlemen at the top of an affidavit. +I knew him, some years ago, in the quality of a footman; and I believe +he had some times the honour to be a pimp. At last, some of the +great folks, to whom he had been serviceable in both capacities, had +him made a gauger; in which station he remains, and has the assurance +to pretend an acquaintance with men of quality. The impudent dog! +with a few shillings in his pocket, he will talk you three times as +much as my friend Mundy there, who is worth nine thousand if he’s +worth a farthing. But I know the rascal, and despise him, as he +deserves.”<br> +<br> +Harley began to despise him too, and to conceive some indignation at +having sat with patience to hear such a fellow speak nonsense. +But he corrected himself by reflecting that he was perhaps as well entertained, +and instructed too, by this same modest gauger, as he should have been +by such a man as he had thought proper to personate. And surely +the fault may more properly be imputed to that rank where the futility +is real than where it is feigned: to that rank whose opportunities for +nobler accomplishments have only served to rear a fabric of folly which +the untutored hand of affectation, even among the meanest of mankind, +can imitate with success.<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +CHAPTER XX - HE VISITS BEDLAM. - THE DISTRESSES OF A DAUGHTER<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +Or those things called Sights in London, which every stranger is supposed +desirous to see, Bedlam is one. To that place, therefore, an acquaintance +of Harley’s, after having accompanied him to several other shows, +proposed a visit. Harley objected to it, “because,” +said he, “I think it an inhuman practice to expose the greatest +misery with which our nature is afflicted to every idle visitant who +can afford a trifling perquisite to the keeper; especially as it is +a distress which the humane must see, with the painful reflection, that +it is not in their power to alleviate it.” He was overpowered, +however, by the solicitations of his friend and the other persons of +the party (amongst whom were several ladies); and they went in a body +to Moorfields.<br> +<br> +Their conductor led them first to the dismal mansions of those who are +in the most horrid state of incurable madness. The clanking of +chains, the wildness of their cries, and the imprecations which some +of them uttered, formed a scene inexpressibly shocking. Harley +and his companions, especially the female part of them, begged their +guide to return; he seemed surprised at their uneasiness, and was with +difficulty prevailed on to leave that part of the house without showing +them some others: who, as he expressed it in the phrase of those that +keep wild beasts for show, were much better worth seeing than any they +had passed, being ten times more fierce and unmanageable.<br> +<br> +He led them next to that quarter where those reside who, as they are +not dangerous to themselves or others, enjoy a certain degree of freedom, +according to the state of their distemper.<br> +<br> +Harley had fallen behind his companions, looking at a man who was making +pendulums with bits of thread and little balls of clay. He had +delineated a segment of a circle on the wall with chalk, and marked +their different vibrations by intersecting it with cross lines. +A decent-looking man came up, and smiling at the maniac, turned to Harley, +and told him that gentleman had once been a very celebrated mathematician. +“He fell a sacrifice,” said he, “to the theory of +comets; for having, with infinite labour, formed a table on the conjectures +of Sir Isaac Newton, he was disappointed in the return of one of those +luminaries, and was very soon after obliged to be placed here by his +friends. If you please to follow me, sir,” continued the +stranger, “I believe I shall be able to give you a more satisfactory +account of the unfortunate people you see here than the man who attends +your companions.”<br> +<br> +Harley bowed, and accepted his offer.<br> +<br> +The next person they came up to had scrawled a variety of figures on +a piece of slate. Harley had the curiosity to take a nearer view +of them. They consisted of different columns, on the top of which +were marked South-sea annuities, India-stock, and Three per cent. annuities +consol. “This,” said Harley’s instructor, “was +a gentleman well known in Change Alley. He was once worth fifty +thousand pounds, and had actually agreed for the purchase of an estate +in the West, in order to realise his money; but he quarrelled with the +proprietor about the repairs of the garden wall, and so returned to +town, to follow his old trade of stock-jobbing a little longer; when +an unlucky fluctuation of stock, in which he was engaged to an immense +extent, reduced him at once to poverty and to madness. Poor wretch! +he told me t’other day that against the next payment of differences +he should be some hundreds above a plum.”<br> +<br> +“It is a spondee, and I will maintain it,” interrupted a +voice on his left hand. This assertion was followed by a very +rapid recital of some verses from Homer. “That figure,” +said the gentleman, “whose clothes are so bedaubed with snuff, +was a schoolmaster of some reputation: he came hither to be resolved +of some doubts he entertained concerning the genuine pronunciation of +the Greek vowels. In his highest fits, he makes frequent mention +of one Mr. Bentley.<br> +<br> +“But delusive ideas, sir, are the motives of the greatest part +of mankind, and a heated imagination the power by which their actions +are incited: the world, in the eye of a philosopher, may be said to +be a large madhouse.” “It is true,” answered +Harley, “the passions of men are temporary madnesses; and sometimes +very fatal in their effects.<br> +<br> +<br> +From Macedonia’s madman to the Swede.”<br> +<br> +<br> +“It was, indeed,” said the stranger, “a very mad thing +in Charles to think of adding so vast a country as Russia to his dominions: +that would have been fatal indeed; the balance of the North would then +have been lost; but the Sultan and I would never have allowed it.” +- “Sir!” said Harley, with no small surprise on his countenance. +- “Why, yes,” answered the other, “the Sultan and +I; do you know me? I am the Chan of Tartary.”<br> +<br> +Harley was a good deal struck by this discovery; he had prudence enough, +however, to conceal his amazement, and bowing as low to the monarch +as his dignity required, left him immediately, and joined his companions.<br> +<br> +He found them in a quarter of the house set apart for the insane of +the other sex, several of whom had gathered about the female visitors, +and were examining, with rather more accuracy than might have been expected, +the particulars of their dress.<br> +<br> +Separate from the rest stood one whose appearance had something of superior +dignity. Her face, though pale and wasted, was less squalid than +those of the others, and showed a dejection of that decent kind, which +moves our pity unmixed with horror: upon her, therefore, the eyes of +all were immediately turned. The keeper who accompanied them observed +it: “This,” said he, “is a young lady who was born +to ride in her coach and six. She was beloved, if the story I +have heard is true, by a young gentleman, her equal in birth, though +by no means her match in fortune: but love, they say, is blind, and +so she fancied him as much as he did her. Her father, it seems, +would not hear of their marriage, and threatened to turn her out of +doors if ever she saw him again. Upon this the young gentleman +took a voyage to the West Indies, in hopes of bettering his fortune, +and obtaining his mistress; but he was scarce landed, when he was seized +with one of the fevers which are common in those islands, and died in +a few days, lamented by every one that knew him. This news soon +reached his mistress, who was at the same time pressed by her father +to marry a rich miserly fellow, who was old enough to be her grandfather. +The death of her lover had no effect on her inhuman parent: he was only +the more earnest for her marriage with the man he had provided for her; +and what between her despair at the death of the one, and her aversion +to the other, the poor young lady was reduced to the condition you see +her in. But God would not prosper such cruelty; her father’s +affairs soon after went to wreck, and he died almost a beggar.”<br> +<br> +Though this story was told in very plain language, it had particularly +attracted Harley’s notice; he had given it the tribute of some +tears. The unfortunate young lady had till now seemed entranced +in thought, with her eyes fixed on a little garnet ring she wore on +her finger; she turned them now upon Harley. “My Billy is +no more!” said she; “do you weep for my Billy? Blessings +on your tears! I would weep too, but my brain is dry; and it burns, +it burns, it burns!” - She drew nearer to Harley. - “Be +comforted, young lady,” said he, “your Billy is in heaven.” +- “Is he, indeed? and shall we meet again? and shall that frightful +man (pointing to the keeper) not be there! - Alas! I am grown +naughty of late; I have almost forgotten to think of heaven: yet I pray +sometimes; when I can, I pray; and sometimes I sing; when I am saddest, +I sing: - You shall hear me - hush!<br> +<br> +<br> +“Light be the earth on Billy’s breast,<br> +And green the sod that wraps his grave.”<br> +<br> +<br> +There was a plaintive wildness in the air not to be withstood; and, +except the keeper’s, there was not an unmoistened eye around her.<br> +<br> +“Do you weep again?” said she. “I would not +have you weep: you are like my Billy; you are, believe me; just so he +looked when he gave me this ring; poor Billy! ’twas the last time +ever we met! -<br> +<br> +“’Twas when the seas were roaring - I love you for resembling +my Billy; but I shall never love any man like him.” - She stretched +out her hand to Harley; he pressed it between both of his, and bathed +it with his tears. - “Nay, that is Billy’s ring,” +said she, “you cannot have it, indeed; but here is another, look +here, which I plated to-day of some gold-thread from this bit of stuff; +will you keep it for my sake? I am a strange girl; but my heart +is harmless: my poor heart; it will burst some day; feel how it beats!” +She pressed his hand to her bosom, then holding her head in the attitude +of listening - “Hark! one, two, three! be quiet, thou little trembler; +my Billy is cold! - but I had forgotten the ring.” - She put it +on his finger. “Farewell! I must leave you now.” +- She would have withdrawn her hand; Harley held it to his lips. - “I +dare not stay longer; my head throbs sadly: farewell!” - She walked +with a hurried step to a little apartment at some distance. Harley +stood fixed in astonishment and pity; his friend gave money to the keeper. +- Harley looked on his ring. - He put a couple of guineas into the man’s +hand: “Be kind to that unfortunate.” - He burst into tears, +and left them.<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +CHAPTER XXI - THE MISANTHROPE<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +The friend who had conducted him to Moorfields called upon him again +the next evening. After some talk on the adventures of the preceding +day: “I carried you yesterday,” said he to Harley, “to +visit the mad; let me introduce you to-night, at supper, to one of the +wise: but you must not look for anything of the Socratic pleasantry +about him; on the contrary, I warn you to expect the spirit of a Diogenes. +That you may be a little prepared for his extraordinary manner, I will +let you into some particulars of his history.<br> +<br> +“He is the elder of the two sons of a gentleman of considerable +estate in the country. Their father died when they were young: +both were remarkable at school for quickness of parts and extent of +genius; this had been bred to no profession, because his father’s +fortune, which descended to him, was thought sufficient to set him above +it; the other was put apprentice to an eminent attorney. In this +the expectations of his friends were more consulted than his own inclination; +for both his brother and he had feelings of that warm kind that could +ill brook a study so dry as the law, especially in that department of +it which was allotted to him. But the difference of their tempers +made the characteristical distinction between them. The younger, +from the gentleness of his nature, bore with patience a situation entirely +discordant to his genius and disposition. At times, indeed, his +pride would suggest of how little importance those talents were which +the partiality of his friends had often extolled: they were now incumbrances +in a walk of life where the dull and the ignorant passed him at every +turn; his fancy and his feeling were invincible obstacles to eminence +in a situation where his fancy had no room for exertion, and his feeling +experienced perpetual disgust. But these murmurings he never suffered +to be heard; and that he might not offend the prudence of those who +had been concerned in the choice of his profession, he continued to +labour in it several years, till, by the death of a relation, he succeeded +to an estate of a little better than £100 a year, with which, +and the small patrimony left him, he retired into the country, and made +a love-match with a young lady of a similar temper to his own, with +whom the sagacious world pitied him for finding happiness.<br> +<br> +“But his elder brother, whom you are to see at supper, if you +will do us the favour of your company, was naturally impetuous, decisive, +and overbearing. He entered into life with those ardent expectations +by which young men are commonly deluded: in his friendships, warm to +excess; and equally violent in his dislikes. He was on the brink +of marriage with a young lady, when one of those friends, for whose +honour he would have pawned his life, made an elopement with that very +goddess, and left him besides deeply engaged for sums which that good +friend’s extravagance had squandered.<br> +<br> +“The dreams he had formerly enjoyed were now changed for ideas +of a very different nature. He abjured all confidence in anything +of human form; sold his lands, which still produced him a very large +reversion, came to town, and immured himself, with a woman who had been +his nurse, in little better than a garret; and has ever since applied +his talents to the vilifying of his species. In one thing I must +take the liberty to instruct you; however different your sentiments +may be (and different they must be), you will suffer him to go on without +contradiction; otherwise, he will be silent immediately, and we shall +not get a word from him all the night after.” Harley promised +to remember this injunction, and accepted the invitation of his friend.<br> +<br> +When they arrived at the house, they were informed that the gentleman +was come, and had been shown into the parlour. They found him +sitting with a daughter of his friend’s, about three years old, +on his knee, whom he was teaching the alphabet from a horn book: at +a little distance stood a sister of hers, some years older. “Get +you away, miss,” said he to this last; “you are a pert gossip, +and I will have nothing to do with you.” - “Nay,” +answered she, “Nancy is your favourite; you are quite in love +with Nancy.” - “Take away that girl,” said he to her +father, whom he now observed to have entered the room; “she has +woman about her already.” The children were accordingly +dismissed.<br> +<br> +Betwixt that and supper-time he did not utter a syllable. When +supper came, he quarrelled with every dish at table, but eat of them +all; only exempting from his censures a salad, “which you have +not spoiled,” said he, “because you have not attempted to +cook it.”<br> +<br> +When the wine was set upon the table, he took from his pocket a particular +smoking apparatus, and filled his pipe, without taking any more notice +of Harley, or his friend, than if no such persons had been in the room.<br> +<br> +Harley could not help stealing a look of surprise at him; but his friend, +who knew his humour, returned it by annihilating his presence in the +like manner, and, leaving him to his own meditations, addressed himself +entirely to Harley.<br> +<br> +In their discourse some mention happened to be made of an amiable character, +and the words <i>honour </i>and <i>politeness </i>were applied to it. +Upon this, the gentleman, laying down his pipe, and changing the tone +of his countenance, from an ironical grin to something more intently +contemptuous: “Honour,” said he: “Honour and Politeness! +this is the coin of the world, and passes current with the fools of +it. You have substituted the shadow Honour, instead of the substance +Virtue; and have banished the reality of friendship for the fictitious +semblance which you have termed Politeness: politeness, which consists +in a certain ceremonious jargon, more ridiculous to the ear of reason +than the voice of a puppet. You have invented sounds, which you +worship, though they tyrannize over your peace; and are surrounded with +empty forms, which take from the honest emotions of joy, and add to +the poignancy of misfortune.” “Sir!” said Harley +- his friend winked to him, to remind him of the caution he had received. +He was silenced by the thought. The philosopher turned his eye +upon him: he examined him from top to toe, with a sort of triumphant +contempt; Harley’s coat happened to be a new one; the other’s +was as shabby as could possibly be supposed to be on the back of a gentleman: +there was much significance in his look with regard to this coat; it +spoke of the sleekness of folly and the threadbareness of wisdom.<br> +<br> +“Truth,” continued he, “the most amiable, as well +as the most natural of virtues, you are at pains to eradicate. +Your very nurseries are seminaries of falsehood; and what is called +Fashion in manhood completes the system of avowed insincerity. +Mankind, in the gross, is a gaping monster, that loves to be deceived, +and has seldom been disappointed: nor is their vanity less fallacious +to your philosophers, who adopt modes of truth to follow them through +the paths of error, and defend paradoxes merely to be singular in defending +them. These are they whom ye term Ingenious; ’tis a phrase +of commendation I detest: it implies an attempt to impose on my judgment, +by flattering my imagination; yet these are they whose works are read +by the old with delight, which the young are taught to look upon as +the codes of knowledge and philosophy.<br> +<br> +“Indeed, the education of your youth is every way preposterous; +you waste at school years in improving talents, without having ever +spent an hour in discovering them; one promiscuous line of instruction +is followed, without regard to genius, capacity, or probable situation +in the commonwealth. From this bear-garden of the pedagogue, a +raw, unprincipled boy is turned loose upon the world to travel; without +any ideas but those of improving his dress at Paris, or starting into +taste by gazing on some paintings at Rome. Ask him of the manners +of the people, and he will tell you that the skirt is worn much shorter +in France, and that everybody eats macaroni in Italy. When he +returns home, he buys a seat in parliament, and studies the constitution +at Arthur’s.<br> +<br> +“Nor are your females trained to any more useful purpose: they +are taught, by the very rewards which their nurses propose for good +behaviour, by the first thing like a jest which they hear from every +male visitor of the family, that a young woman is a creature to be married; +and when they are grown somewhat older, are instructed that it is the +purpose of marriage to have the enjoyment of pin-money, and the expectation +of a jointure.”<br> +<br> +“These, <a name="citation61"></a><a href="#footnote61">{61}</a> +indeed, are the effects of luxury, which is, perhaps, inseparable from +a certain degree of power and grandeur in a nation. But it is +not simply of the progress of luxury that we have to complain: did its +votaries keep in their own sphere of thoughtless dissipation, we might +despise them without emotion; but the frivolous pursuits of pleasure +are mingled with the most important concerns of the state; and public +enterprise shall sleep till he who should guide its operation has decided +his bets at Newmarket, or fulfilled his engagement with a favourite +mistress in the country. We want some man of acknowledged eminence +to point our counsels with that firmness which the counsels of a great +people require. We have hundreds of ministers, who press forward +into office without having ever learned that art which is necessary +for every business: the art of thinking; and mistake the petulance, +which could give inspiration to smart sarcasms on an obnoxious measure +in a popular assembly, for the ability which is to balance the interest +of kingdoms, and investigate the latent sources of national superiority. +With the administration of such men the people can never be satisfied; +for besides that their confidence is gained only by the view of superior +talents, there needs that depth of knowledge, which is not only acquainted +with the just extent of power, but can also trace its connection with +the expedient, to preserve its possessors from the contempt which attends +irresolution, or the resentment which follows temerity.”<br> +<br> +* * * * *<br> +<br> +[Here a considerable part is wanting.]<br> +<br> +* * “In short, man is an animal equally selfish and vain. +Vanity, indeed, is but a modification of selfishness. From the +latter, there are some who pretend to be free: they are generally such +as declaim against the lust of wealth and power, because they have never +been able to attain any high degree in either: they boast of generosity +and feeling. They tell us (perhaps they tell us in rhyme) that +the sensations of an honest heart, of a mind universally benevolent, +make up the quiet bliss which they enjoy; but they will not, by this, +be exempted from the charge of selfishness. Whence the luxurious +happiness they describe in their little family-circles? Whence +the pleasure which they feel, when they trim their evening fires, and +listen to the howl of winter’s wind? Whence, but from the +secret reflection of what houseless wretches feel from it? Or +do you administer comfort in affliction - the motive is at hand; I have +had it preached to me in nineteen out of twenty of your consolatory +discourses - the comparative littleness of our own misfortunes.<br> +<br> +“With vanity your best virtues are grossly tainted: your benevolence, +which ye deduce immediately from the natural impulse of the heart, squints +to it for its reward. There are some, indeed, who tell us of the +satisfaction which flows from a secret consciousness of good actions: +this secret satisfaction is truly excellent - when we have some friend +to whom we may discover its excellence.”<br> +<br> +He now paused a moment to re-light his pipe, when a clock, that stood +at his back, struck eleven; he started up at the sound, took his hat +and his cane, and nodding good night with his head, walked out of the +room. The gentleman of the house called a servant to bring the +stranger’s surtout. “What sort of a night is it, fellow?” +said he. - “It rains, sir,” answered the servant, “with +an easterly wind.” - “Easterly for ever!” He +made no other reply; but shrugging up his shoulders till they almost +touched his ears, wrapped himself tight in his great coat, and disappeared.<br> +<br> +“This is a strange creature,” said his friend to Harley. +“I cannot say,” answered he, “that his remarks are +of the pleasant kind: it is curious to observe how the nature of truth +may be changed by the garb it wears; softened to the admonition of friendship, +or soured into the severity of reproof: yet this severity may be useful +to some tempers; it somewhat resembles a file: disagreeable in its operation, +but hard metals may be the brighter for it.”<br> +<br> +* * *<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +CHAPTER XXV - HIS SKILL IN PHYSIOGNOMY<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +The company at the baronet’s removed to the playhouse accordingly, +and Harley took his usual route into the Park. He observed, as +he entered, a fresh-looking elderly gentleman in conversation with a +beggar, who, leaning on his crutch, was recounting the hardships he +had undergone, and explaining the wretchedness of his present condition. +This was a very interesting dialogue to Harley; he was rude enough, +therefore, to slacken his pace as he approached, and at last to make +a full stop at the gentleman’s back, who was just then expressing +his compassion for the beggar, and regretting that he had not a farthing +of change about him. At saying this, he looked piteously on the +fellow: there was something in his physiognomy which caught Harley’s +notice: indeed, physiognomy was one of Harley’s foibles, for which +he had been often rebuked by his aunt in the country, who used to tell +him that when he was come to her years and experience he would know +that all’s not gold that glitters: and it must be owned that his +aunt was a very sensible, harsh-looking maiden lady of threescore and +upwards. But he was too apt to forget this caution and now, it +seems, it had not occurred to him. Stepping up, therefore, to +the gentleman, who was lamenting the want of silver, “Your intentions, +sir,” said he, “are so good, that I cannot help lending +you my assistance to carry them into execution,” and gave the +beggar a shilling. The other returned a suitable compliment, and +extolled the benevolence of Harley. They kept walking together, +and benevolence grew the topic of discourse.<br> +<br> +The stranger was fluent on the subject. “There is no use +of money,” said he, “equal to that of beneficence. +With the profuse, it is lost; and even with those who lay it out according +to the prudence of the world, the objects acquired by it pall on the +sense, and have scarce become our own till they lose their value with +the power of pleasing; but here the enjoyment grows on reflection, and +our money is most truly ours when it ceases being in our possession.<br> +<br> +“Yet I agree in some measure,” answered Harley, “with +those who think that charity to our common beggars is often misplaced; +there are objects less obtrusive whose title is a better one.”<br> +<br> +“We cannot easily distinguish,” said the stranger; “and +even of the worthless, are there not many whose imprudence, or whose +vice, may have been one dreadful consequence of misfortune?”<br> +<br> +Harley looked again in his face, and blessed himself for his skill in +physiognomy.<br> +<br> +By this time they had reached the end of the walk, the old gentleman +leaning on the rails to take breath, and in the meantime they were joined +by a younger man, whose figure was much above the appearance of his +dress, which was poor and shabby. Harley’s former companion +addressed him as an acquaintance, and they turned on the walk together.<br> +<br> +The elder of the strangers complained of the closeness of the evening, +and asked the other if he would go with him into a house hard by, and +take one draught of excellent cyder. “The man who keeps +this house,” said he to Harley, “was once a servant of mine. +I could not think of turning loose upon the world a faithful old fellow, +for no other reason but that his age had incapacitated him; so I gave +him an annuity of ten pounds, with the help of which he has set up this +little place here, and his daughter goes and sells milk in the city, +while her father manages his tap-room, as he calls it, at home. +I can’t well ask a gentleman of your appearance to accompany me +to so paltry a place.” “Sir,” replied Harley, +interrupting him, “I would much rather enter it than the most +celebrated tavern in town. To give to the necessitous may sometimes +be a weakness in the man; to encourage industry is a duty in the citizen.” +They entered the house accordingly.<br> +<br> +On a table at the corner of the room lay a pack of cards, loosely thrown +together. The old gentleman reproved the man of the house for +encouraging so idle an amusement. Harley attempted to defend him +from the necessity of accommodating himself to the humour of his guests, +and taking up the cards, began to shuffle them backwards and forwards +in his hand. “Nay, I don’t think cards so unpardonable +an amusement as some do,” replied the other; “and now and +then, about this time of the evening, when my eyes begin to fail me +for my book, I divert myself with a game at piquet, without finding +my morals a bit relaxed by it. Do you play piquet, sir?” +(to Harley.) Harley answered in the affirmative; upon which the +other proposed playing a pool at a shilling the game, doubling the stakes; +adding, that he never played higher with anybody.<br> +<br> +Harley’s good nature could not refuse the benevolent old man; +and the younger stranger, though he at first pleaded prior engagements, +yet being earnestly solicited by his friend, at last yielded to solicitation.<br> +<br> +When they began to play, the old gentleman, somewhat to the surprise +of Harley, produced ten shillings to serve for markers of his score. +“He had no change for the beggar,” said Harley to himself; +“but I can easily account for it; it is curious to observe the +affection that inanimate things will create in us by a long acquaintance. +If I may judge from my own feelings, the old man would not part with +one of these counters for ten times its intrinsic value; it even got +the better of his benevolence! I, myself, have a pair of old brass +sleeve buttons.” Here he was interrupted by being told that +the old gentleman had beat the younger, and that it was his turn to +take up the conqueror. “Your game has been short,” +said Harley. “I re-piqued him,” answered the old man, +with joy sparkling in his countenance. Harley wished to be re-piqued +too, but he was disappointed; for he had the same good fortune against +his opponent. Indeed, never did fortune, mutable as she is, delight +in mutability so much as at that moment. The victory was so quick, +and so constantly alternate, that the stake, in a short time, amounted +to no less a sum than £12, Harley’s proportion of which +was within half-a-guinea of the money he had in his pocket. He +had before proposed a division, but the old gentleman opposed it with +such a pleasant warmth in his manner, that it was always over-ruled. +Now, however, he told them that he had an appointment with some gentlemen, +and it was within a few minutes of his hour. The young stranger +had gained one game, and was engaged in the second with the other; they +agreed, therefore, that the stake should be divided, if the old gentleman +won that: which was more than probable, as his score was 90 to 35, and +he was elder hand; but a momentous re-pique decided it in favour of +his adversary, who seemed to enjoy his victory mingled with regret, +for having won too much, while his friend, with great ebullience of +passion, many praises of his own good play, and many malediction’s +on the power of chance, took up the cards, and threw them into the fire.<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +CHAPTER XXVI - FRUITS OF THE DEAD SEA<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +The company he was engaged to meet were assembled in Fleet Street. +He had walked some time along the Strand, amidst a crowd of those wretches +who wait the uncertain wages of prostitution, with ideas of pity suitable +to the scene around him and the feelings he possessed, and had got as +far as Somerset House, when one of them laid hold of his arm, and, with +a voice tremulous and faint, asked him for a pint of wine, in a manner +more supplicatory than is usual with those whom the infamy of their +profession has deprived of shame. He turned round at the demand, +and looked steadfastly on the person who made it.<br> +<br> +She was above the common size, and elegantly formed; her face was thin +and hollow, and showed the remains of tarnished beauty. Her eyes +were black, but had little of their lustre left; her cheeks had some +paint laid on without art, and productive of no advantage to her complexion, +which exhibited a deadly paleness on the other parts of her face.<br> +<br> +Harley stood in the attitude of hesitation; which she, interpreting +to her advantage, repeated her request, and endeavoured to force a leer +of invitation into her countenance. He took her arm, and they +walked on to one of those obsequious taverns in the neighbourhood, where +the dearness of the wine is a discharge in full for the character of +the house. From what impulse he did this we do not mean to enquire; +as it has ever been against our nature to search for motives where bad +ones are to be found. They entered, and a waiter showed them a +room, and placed a bottle of claret on the table.<br> +<br> +Harley filled the lady’s glass: which she had no sooner tasted, +than dropping it on the floor, and eagerly catching his arm, her eye +grew fixed, her lip assumed a clayey whiteness, and she fell back lifeless +in her chair.<br> +<br> +Harley started from his seat, and, catching her in his arms, supported +her from falling to the ground, looking wildly at the door, as if he +wanted to run for assistance, but durst not leave the miserable creature. +It was not till some minutes after that it occurred to him to ring the +bell, which at last, however, he thought of, and rung with repeated +violence even after the waiter appeared. Luckily the waiter had +his senses somewhat more about him; and snatching up a bottle of water, +which stood on a buffet at the end of the room, he sprinkled it over +the hands and face of the dying figure before him. She began to +revive, and, with the assistance of some hartshorn drops, which Harley +now for the first time drew from his pocket, was able to desire the +waiter to bring her a crust of bread, of which she swallowed some mouthfuls +with the appearance of the keenest hunger. The waiter withdrew: +when turning to Harley, sobbing at the same time, and shedding tears, +“I am sorry, sir,” said she, “that I should have given +you so much trouble; but you will pity me when I tell you that till +now I have not tasted a morsel these two days past.” - He fixed +his eyes on hers - every circumstance but the last was forgotten; and +he took her hand with as much respect as if she had been a duchess. +It was ever the privilege of misfortune to be revered by him. - “Two +days!” said he; “and I have fared sumptuously every day!” +- He was reaching to the bell; she understood his meaning, and prevented +him. “I beg, sir,” said she, “that you would +give yourself no more trouble about a wretch who does not wish to live; +but, at present, I could not eat a bit; my stomach even rose at the +last mouthful of that crust.” - He offered to call a chair, saying +that he hoped a little rest would relieve her. - He had one half-guinea +left. “I am sorry,” he said, “that at present +I should be able to make you an offer of no more than this paltry sum.” +- She burst into tears: “Your generosity, sir, is abused; to bestow +it on me is to take it from the virtuous. I have no title but +misery to plead: misery of my own procuring.” “No +more of that,” answered Harley; “there is virtue in these +tears; let the fruit of them be virtue.” - He rung, and ordered +a chair. - “Though I am the vilest of beings,” said she, +“I have not forgotten every virtue; gratitude, I hope, I shall +still have left, did I but know who is my benefactor.” - “My +name is Harley.” - “Could I ever have an opportunity?” +- “You shall, and a glorious one too! your future conduct - but +I do not mean to reproach you - if, I say - it will be the noblest reward +- I will do myself the pleasure of seeing you again.” - Here the +waiter entered, and told them the chair was at the door; the lady informed +Harley of her lodgings, and he promised to wait on her at ten next morning.<br> +<br> +He led her to the chair, and returned to clear with the waiter, without +ever once reflecting that he had no money in his pocket. He was +ashamed to make an excuse; yet an excuse must be made: he was beginning +to frame one, when the waiter cut him short by telling him that he could +not run scores; but that, if he would leave his watch, or any other +pledge, it would be as safe as if it lay in his pocket. Harley +jumped at the proposal, and pulling out his watch, delivered it into +his hands immediately, and having, for once, had the precaution to take +a note of the lodging he intended to visit next morning, sallied forth +with a blush of triumph on his face, without taking notice of the sneer +of the waiter, who, twirling the watch in his hand, made him a profound +bow at the door, and whispered to a girl, who stood in the passage, +something, in which the word CULLY was honoured with a particular emphasis.<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +CHAPTER XXVII - HIS SKILL IN PHYSIOGNOMY IS DOUBTED<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +After he had been some time with the company he had appointed to meet, +and the last bottle was called for, he first recollected that he would +be again at a loss how to discharge his share of the reckoning. +He applied, therefore, to one of them, with whom he was most intimate, +acknowledging that he had not a farthing of money about him; and, upon +being jocularly asked the reason, acquainted them with the two adventures +we have just now related. One of the company asked him if the +old man in Hyde Park did not wear a brownish coat, with a narrow gold +edging, and his companion an old green frock, with a buff-coloured waistcoat. +Upon Harley’s recollecting that they did, “Then,” +said he, “you may be thankful you have come off so well; they +are two as noted sharpers, in their way, as any in town, and but t’other +night took me in for a much larger sum. I had some thoughts of +applying to a justice, but one does not like to be seen in those matters.”<br> +<br> +Harley answered, “That he could not but fancy the gentleman was +mistaken, as he never saw a face promise more honesty than that of the +old man he had met with.” - “His face!” said a grave-looking +man, when sat opposite to him, squirting the juice of his tobacco obliquely +into the grate. There was something very emphatical in the action, +for it was followed by a burst of laughter round the table. “Gentlemen,” +said Harley, “you are disposed to be merry; it may be as you imagine, +for I confess myself ignorant of the town; but there is one thing which +makes me hear the loss of my money with temper: the young fellow who +won it must have been miserably poor; I observed him borrow money for +the stake from his friend: he had distress and hunger in his countenance: +be his character what it may, his necessities at least plead for him.” +At this there was a louder laugh than before. “Gentlemen,” +said the lawyer, one of whose conversations with Harley we have already +recorded, “here’s a pretty fellow for you! to have heard +him talk some nights ago, as I did, you might have sworn he was a saint; +yet now he games with sharpers, and loses his money, and is bubbled +by a fine tale of the Dead Sea, and pawns his watch; here are sanctified +doings with a witness!”<br> +<br> +“Young gentleman,” said his friend on the other side of +the table, “let me advise you to be a little more cautious for +the future; and as for faces - you may look into them to know whether +a man’s nose be a long or a short one.”<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +CHAPTER XXVIII - HE KEEPS HIS APPOINTMENT<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +The last night’s raillery of his companions was recalled to his +remembrance when he awoke, and the colder homilies of prudence began +to suggest some things which were nowise favourable for a performance +of his promise to the unfortunate female he had met with before. +He rose, uncertain of his purpose; but the torpor of such considerations +was seldom prevalent over the warmth of his nature. He walked +some turns backwards and forwards in his room; he recalled the languid +form of the fainting wretch to his mind; he wept at the recollection +of her tears. “Though I am the vilest of beings, I have +not forgotten every virtue; gratitude, I hope, I shall still have left.” +- He took a larger stride - “Powers of mercy that surround me!” +cried he, “do ye not smile upon deeds like these? to calculate +the chances of deception is too tedious a business for the life of man!” +- The clock struck ten. - When he was got down-stairs, he found that +he had forgot the note of her lodgings; he gnawed his lips at the delay: +he was fairly on the pavement, when he recollected having left his purse; +he did but just prevent himself from articulating an imprecation. +He rushed a second time up into his chamber. “What a wretch +I am!” said he; “ere this time, perhaps - ” +’Twas a perhaps not to be borne; - two vibrations of a pendulum +would have served him to lock his bureau; but they could not be spared.<br> +<br> +When he reached the house, and inquired for Miss Atkins (for that was +the lady’s name), he was shown up three pair of stairs, into a +small room lighted by one narrow lattice, and patched round with shreds +of different-coloured paper. In the darkest corner stood something +like a bed, before which a tattered coverlet hung by way of curtain. +He had not waited long when she appeared. Her face had the glister +of new-washed tears on it. “I am ashamed, sir,” said +she, “that you should have taken this fresh piece of trouble about +one so little worthy of it; but, to the humane, I know there is a pleasure +in goodness for its own sake: if you have patience for the recital of +my story, it may palliate, though it cannot excuse, my faults.” +Harley bowed, as a sign of assent; and she began as follows:-<br> +<br> +“I am the daughter of an officer, whom a service of forty years +had advanced no higher than the rank of captain. I have had hints +from himself, and been informed by others, that it was in some measure +owing to those principles of rigid honour, which it was his boast to +possess, and which he early inculcated on me, that he had been able +to arrive at no better station. My mother died when I was a child: +old enough to grieve for her death, but incapable of remembering her +precepts. Though my father was doatingly fond of her, yet there +were some sentiments in which they materially differed: she had been +bred from her infancy in the strictest principles of religion, and took +the morality of her conduct from the motives which an adherence to those +principles suggested. My father, who had been in the army from +his youth, affixed an idea of pusillanimity to that virtue, which was +formed by the doctrines, excited by the rewards, or guarded by the terrors +of revelation; his dashing idol was the honour of a soldier: a term +which he held in such reverence, that he used it for his most sacred +asseveration. When my mother died, I was some time suffered to +continue in those sentiments which her instructions had produced; but +soon after, though, from respect to her memory, my father did not absolutely +ridicule them, yet he showed, in his discourse to others, so little +regard to them, and at times suggested to me motives of action so different, +that I was soon weaned from opinions which I began to consider as the +dreams of superstition, or the artful inventions of designing hypocrisy. +My mother’s books were left behind at the different quarters we +removed to, and my reading was principally confined to plays, novels, +and those poetical descriptions of the beauty of virtue and honour, +which the circulating libraries easily afforded.<br> +<br> +“As I was generally reckoned handsome, and the quickness of my +parts extolled by all our visitors, my father had a pride in allowing +me to the world. I was young, giddy, open to adulation, and vain +of those talents which acquired it.<br> +<br> +“After the last war, my father was reduced to half-pay; with which +we retired to a village in the country, which the acquaintance of some +genteel families who resided in it, and the cheapness of living, particularly +recommended. My father rented a small house, with a piece of ground +sufficient to keep a horse for him, and a cow for the benefit of his +family. An old man servant managed his ground; while a maid, who +had formerly been my mother’s, and had since been mine, undertook +the care of our little dairy: they were assisted in each of their provinces +by my father and me: and we passed our time in a state of tranquillity, +which he had always talked of with delight, and my train of reading +had taught me to admire.<br> +<br> +“Though I had never seen the polite circles of the metropolis, +the company my father had introduced me into had given me a degree of +good breeding, which soon discovered a superiority over the young ladies +of our village. I was quoted as an example of politeness, and +my company courted by most of the considerable families in the neighbourhood.<br> +<br> +“Amongst the houses where I was frequently invited was Sir George +Winbrooke’s. He had two daughters nearly of my age, with +whom, though they had been bred up in those maxims of vulgar doctrine +which my superior understanding could not but despise, yet as their +good nature led them to an imitation of my manners in everything else, +I cultivated a particular friendship.<br> +<br> +“Some months after our first acquaintance, Sir George’s +eldest son came home from his travels. His figure, his address, +and conversation, were not unlike those warm ideas of an accomplished +man which my favourite novels had taught me to form; and his sentiments +on the article of religion were as liberal as my own: when any of these +happened to be the topic of our discourse, I, who before had been silent, +from a fear of being single in opposition, now kindled at the fire he +raised, and defended our mutual opinions with all the eloquence I was +mistress of. He would be respectfully attentive all the while; +and when I had ended, would raise his eyes from the ground, look at +me with a gaze of admiration, and express his applause in the highest +strain of encomium. This was an incense the more pleasing, as +I seldom or never had met with it before; for the young gentlemen who +visited Sir George were for the most part of that athletic order, the +pleasure of whose lives is derived from fox-hunting: these are seldom +solicitous to please the women at all; or if they were, would never +think of applying their flattery to the mind.<br> +<br> +“Mr. Winbrooke observed the weakness of my soul, and took every +occasion of improving the esteem he had gained. He asked my opinion +of every author, of every sentiment, with that submissive diffidence, +which showed an unlimited confidence in my understanding. I saw +myself revered, as a superior being, by one whose judgment my vanity +told me was not likely to err: preferred by him to all the other visitors +of my sex, whose fortunes and rank should have entitled them to a much +higher degree of notice: I saw their little jealousies at the distinguished +attention he paid me; it was gratitude, it was pride, it was love! +Love which had made too fatal a progress in my heart, before any declaration +on his part should have warranted a return: but I interpreted every +look of attention, every expression of compliment, to the passion I +imagined him inspired with, and imputed to his sensibility that silence +which was the effect of art and design. At length, however, he +took an opportunity of declaring his love: he now expressed himself +in such ardent terms, that prudence might have suspected their sincerity: +but prudence is rarely found in the situation I had been unguardedly +led into; besides, that the course of reading to which I had been accustomed, +did not lead me to conclude, that his expressions could be too warm +to be sincere: nor was I even alarmed at the manner in which he talked +of marriage, a subjection, he often hinted, to which genuine love should +scorn to be confined. The woman, he would often say, who had merit +like mine to fix his affection, could easily command it for ever. +That honour too which I revered, was often called in to enforce his +sentiments. I did not, however, absolutely assent to them; but +I found my regard for their opposites diminish by degrees. If +it is dangerous to be convinced, it is dangerous to listen; for our +reason is so much of a machine, that it will not always be able to resist, +when the ear is perpetually assailed.<br> +<br> +“In short, Mr. Harley (for I tire you with a relation, the catastrophe +of which you will already have imagined), I fell a prey to his artifices. +He had not been able so thoroughly to convert me, that my conscience +was silent on the subject; but he was so assiduous to give repeated +proofs of unabated affection, that I hushed its suggestions as they +rose. The world, however, I knew, was not to be silenced; and +therefore I took occasion to express my uneasiness to my seducer, and +entreat him, as he valued the peace of one to whom he professed such +attachment, to remove it by a marriage. He made excuse from his +dependence on the will of his father, but quieted my fears by the promise +of endeavouring to win his assent.<br> +<br> +“My father had been some days absent on a visit to a dying relation, +from whom he had considerable expectations. I was left at home, +with no other company than my books: my books I found were not now such +companions as they used to be; I was restless, melancholy, unsatisfied +with myself. But judge my situation when I received a billet from +Mr. Winbrooke informing me, that he had sounded Sir George on the subject +we had talked of, and found him so averse to any match so unequal to +his own rank and fortune, that he was obliged, with whatever reluctance, +to bid adieu to a place, the remembrance of which should ever be dear +to him.<br> +<br> +“I read this letter a hundred times over. Alone, helpless, +conscious of guilt, and abandoned by every better thought, my mind was +one motley scene of terror, confusion, and remorse. A thousand +expedients suggested themselves, and a thousand fears told me they would +be vain: at last, in an agony of despair, I packed up a few clothes, +took what money and trinkets were in the house, and set out for London, +whither I understood he was gone; pretending to my maid, that I had +received letters from my father requiring my immediate attendance. +I had no other companion than a boy, a servant to the man from whom +I hired my horses. I arrived in London within an hour of Mr. Winbrooke, +and accidentally alighted at the very inn where he was.<br> +<br> +“He started and turned pale when he saw me; but recovered himself +in time enough to make many new protestations of regard, and beg me +to make myself easy under a disappointment which was equally afflicting +to him. He procured me lodgings, where I slept, or rather endeavoured +to sleep, for that night. Next morning I saw him again, he then +mildly observed on the imprudence of my precipitate flight from the +country, and proposed my removing to lodgings at another end of the +town, to elude the search of my father, till he should fall upon some +method of excusing my conduct to him, and reconciling him to my return. +We took a hackney-coach, and drove to the house he mentioned.<br> +<br> +“It was situated in a dirty lane, furnished with a tawdry affectation +of finery, with some old family pictures hanging on walls which their +own cobwebs would better have suited. I was struck with a secret +dread at entering, nor was it lessened by the appearance of the landlady, +who had that look of selfish shrewdness, which, of all others, is the +most hateful to those whose feelings are untinctured with the world. +A girl, who she told us was her niece, sat by her, playing on a guitar, +while herself was at work, with the assistance of spectacles, and had +a prayer-book with the leaves folded down in several places, lying on +the table before her. Perhaps, sir, I tire you with my minuteness, +but the place, and every circumstance about it, is so impressed on my +mind, that I shall never forget it.<br> +<br> +“I dined that day with Mr. Winbrooke alone. He lost by degrees +that restraint which I perceived too well to hang about him before, +and, with his former gaiety and good humour, repeated the flattering +things which, though they had once been fatal, I durst not now distrust. +At last, taking my hand and kissing it, ‘It is thus,’ said +he, ‘that love will last, while freedom is preserved; thus let +us ever be blessed, without the galling thought that we are tied to +a condition where we may cease to be so.’<br> +<br> +“I answered, ‘That the world thought otherwise: that it +had certain ideas of good fame, which it was impossible not to wish +to maintain.’<br> +<br> +“‘The world,’ said he, ‘is a tyrant, they are +slaves who obey it; let us be happy without the pale of the world. +To-morrow I shall leave this quarter of it, for one where the talkers +of the world shall be foiled, and lose us. Could not my Emily +accompany me? my friend, my companion, the mistress of my soul! +Nay, do not look so, Emily! Your father may grieve for a while, +but your father shall be taken care of; this bank-bill I intend as the +comfort for his daughter.’<br> +<br> +“I could contain myself no longer: ‘Wretch,’ I exclaimed, +‘dost thou imagine that my father’s heart could brook dependence +on the destroyer of his child, and tamely accept of a base equivalent +for her honour and his own?’<br> +<br> +“‘Honour, my Emily,’ said he, ‘is the word of +fools, or of those wiser men who cheat them. ’Tis a fantastic +bauble that does not suit the gravity of your father’s age; but, +whatever it is, I am afraid it can never be perfectly restored to you: +exchange the word then, and let pleasure be your object now.’<br> +<br> +“At these words he clasped me in his arms, and pressed his lips +rudely to my bosom. I started from my seat. ‘Perfidious +villain!’ said I, ‘who dar’st insult the weakness +thou hast undone; were that father here, thy coward soul would shrink +from the vengeance of his honour! Cursed be that wretch who has +deprived him of it! oh doubly cursed, who has dragged on his hoary head +the infamy which should have crushed her own!’ I snatched +a knife which lay beside me, and would have plunged it in my breast, +but the monster prevented my purpose, and smiling with a grin of barbarous +insult -<br> +<br> +“‘Madam,’ said he, ‘I confess you are rather +too much in heroics for me; I am sorry we should differ about trifles; +but as I seem somehow to have offended you, I would willingly remedy +it by taking my leave. You have been put to some foolish expense +in this journey on my account; allow me to reimburse you.’<br> +<br> +“So saying he laid a bank-bill, of what amount I had no patience +to see, upon the table. Shame, grief, and indignation choked my +utterance; unable to speak my wrongs, and unable to bear them in silence, +I fell in a swoon at his feet.<br> +<br> +“What happened in the interval I cannot tell, but when I came +to myself I was in the arms of the landlady, with her niece chafing +my temples, and doing all in her power for my recovery. She had +much compassion in her countenance; the old woman assumed the softest +look she was capable of, and both endeavoured to bring me comfort. +They continued to show me many civilities, and even the aunt began to +be less disagreeable in my sight. To the wretched, to the forlorn, +as I was, small offices of kindness are endearing.<br> +<br> +“Meantime my money was far spent, nor did I attempt to conceal +my wants from their knowledge. I had frequent thoughts of returning +to my father; but the dread of a life of scorn is insurmountable. +I avoided, therefore, going abroad when I had a chance of being seen +by any former acquaintance, nor indeed did my health for a great while +permit it; and suffered the old woman, at her own suggestion, to call +me niece at home, where we now and then saw (when they could prevail +on me to leave my room) one or two other elderly women, and sometimes +a grave business-like man, who showed great compassion for my indisposition, +and made me very obligingly an offer of a room at his country-house +for the recovery of my health. This offer I did not chose to accept, +but told my landlady, ‘that I should be glad to be employed in +any way of business which my skill in needlework could recommend me +to, confessing, at the same time, that I was afraid I should scarce +be able to pay her what I already owed for board and lodging, and that +for her other good offices, I had nothing but thanks to give her.’<br> +<br> +“‘My dear child,’ said she, ‘do not talk of +paying; since I lost my own sweet girl’ (here she wept), ‘your +very picture she was, Miss Emily, I have nobody, except my niece, to +whom I should leave any little thing I have been able to save; you shall +live with me, my dear; and I have sometimes a little millinery work, +in which, when you are inclined to it, you may assist us. By the +way, here are a pair of ruffles we have just finished for that gentleman +you saw here at tea; a distant relation of mine, and a worthy man he +is. ’Twas pity you refused the offer of an apartment at +his country house; my niece, you know, was to have accompanied you, +and you might have fancied yourself at home; a most sweet place it is, +and but a short mile beyond Hampstead. Who knows, Miss Emily, +what effect such a visit might have had! If I had half your beauty +I should not waste it pining after e’er a worthless fellow of +them all.’<br> +<br> +“I felt my heart swell at her words; I would have been angry if +I could, but I was in that stupid state which is not easily awakened +to anger: when I would have chid her the reproof stuck in my throat; +I could only weep!<br> +<br> +“Her want of respect increased, as I had not spirit to assert +it. My work was now rather imposed than offered, and I became +a drudge for the bread I eat: but my dependence and servility grew in +proportion, and I was now in a situation which could not make any extraordinary +exertions to disengage itself from either - I found myself with child.<br> +<br> +“At last the wretch, who had thus trained me to destruction, hinted +the purpose for which those means had been used. I discovered +her to be an artful procuress for the pleasures of those who are men +of decency to the world in the midst of debauchery.<br> +<br> +“I roused every spark of courage within me at the horrid proposal. +She treated my passion at first somewhat mildly, but when I continued +to exert it she resented it with insult, and told me plainly that if +I did not soon comply with her desires I should pay her every farthing +I owed, or rot in a jail for life. I trembled at the thought; +still, however, I resisted her importunities, and she put her threats +in execution. I was conveyed to prison, weak from my condition, +weaker from that struggle of grief and misery which for some time I +had suffered. A miscarriage was the consequence.<br> +<br> +“Amidst all the horrors of such a state, surrounded with wretches +totally callous, lost alike to humanity and to shame, think, Mr. Harley, +think what I endured; nor wonder that I at last yielded to the solicitations +of that miscreant I had seen at her house, and sunk to the prostitution +which he tempted. But that was happiness compared to what I have +suffered since. He soon abandoned me to the common use of the +town, and I was cast among those miserable beings in whose society I +have since remained.<br> +<br> +“Oh! did the daughters of virtue know our sufferings; did they +see our hearts torn with anguish amidst the affectation of gaiety which +our faces are obliged to assume! our bodies tortured by disease, our +minds with that consciousness which they cannot lose! Did they +know, did they think of this, Mr. Harley! Their censures are just, +but their pity perhaps might spare the wretches whom their justice should +condemn.<br> +<br> +“Last night, but for an exertion of benevolence which the infection +of our infamy prevents even in the humane, had I been thrust out from +this miserable place which misfortune has yet left me; exposed to the +brutal insults of drunkenness, or dragged by that justice which I could +not bribe, to the punishment which may correct, but, alas! can never +amend the abandoned objects of its terrors. From that, Mr. Harley, +your goodness has relieved me.”<br> +<br> +He beckoned with his hand: he would have stopped the mention of his +favours; but he could not speak, had it been to beg a diadem.<br> +<br> +She saw his tears; her fortitude began to fail at the sight, when the +voice of some stranger on the stairs awakened her attention. She +listened for a moment, then starting up, exclaimed, “Merciful +God! my father’s voice!”<br> +<br> +She had scarce uttered the word, when the door burst open, and a man +entered in the garb of an officer. When he discovered his daughter +and Harley, he started back a few paces; his look assumed a furious +wildness! he laid his hand on his sword. The two objects of his +wrath did not utter a syllable.<br> +<br> +“Villain,” he cried, “thou seest a father who had +once a daughter’s honour to preserve; blasted as it now is, behold +him ready to avenge its loss!”<br> +<br> +Harley had by this time some power of utterance. “Sir,” +said he, “if you will be a moment calm - ”<br> +<br> +“Infamous coward!” interrupted the other, “dost thou +preach calmness to wrongs like mine!”<br> +<br> +He drew his sword.<br> +<br> +“Sir,” said Harley, “let me tell you” - the +blood ran quicker to his cheek, his pulse beat one, no more, and regained +the temperament of humanity - “you are deceived, sir,” said +he, “you are much deceived; but I forgive suspicions which your +misfortunes have justified: I would not wrong you, upon my soul I would +not, for the dearest gratification of a thousand worlds; my heart bleeds +for you!”<br> +<br> +His daughter was now prostrate at his feet.<br> +<br> +“Strike,” said she, “strike here a wretch, whose misery +cannot end but with that death she deserves.”<br> +<br> +Her hair had fallen on her shoulders! her look had the horrid calmness +of out-breathed despair! Her father would have spoken; his lip +quivered, his cheek grew pale, his eyes lost the lightning of their +fury! there was a reproach in them, but with a mingling of pity. +He turned them up to heaven, then on his daughter. He laid his +left hand on his heart, the sword dropped from his right, he burst into +tears.<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +CHAPTER XXIX - THE DISTRESSES OF A FATHER<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +Harley kneeled also at the side of the unfortunate daughter.<br> +<br> +“Allow me, sir,” said he, “to entreat your pardon +for one whose offences have been already so signally punished. +I know, I feel, that those tears, wrung from the heart of a father, +are more dreadful to her than all the punishments your sword could have +inflicted: accept the contrition of a child whom heaven has restored +to you.”<br> +<br> +“Is she not lost,” answered he, “irrecoverably lost? +Damnation! a common prostitute to the meanest ruffian!”<br> +<br> +“Calmly, my dear sir,” said Harley, “did you know +by what complicated misfortunes she had fallen to that miserable state +in which you now behold her, I should have no need of words to excite +your compassion. Think, sir, of what once she was. Would +you abandon her to the insults of an unfeeling world, deny her opportunity +of penitence, and cut off the little comfort that still remains for +your afflictions and her own!”<br> +<br> +“Speak,” said he, addressing himself to his daughter; “speak; +I will hear thee.”<br> +<br> +The desperation that supported her was lost; she fell to the ground, +and bathed his feet with her tears.<br> +<br> +Harley undertook her cause: he related the treacheries to which she +had fallen a sacrifice, and again solicited the forgiveness of her father. +He looked on her for some time in silence; the pride of a soldier’s +honour checked for a while the yearnings of his heart; but nature at +last prevailed, he fell on her neck and mingled his tears with hers.<br> +<br> +Harley, who discovered from the dress of the stranger that he was just +arrived from a journey, begged that they would both remove to his lodgings, +till he could procure others for them. Atkins looked at him with +some marks of surprise. His daughter now first recovered the power +of speech.<br> +<br> +“Wretch as I am,” said she, “yet there is some gratitude +due to the preserver of your child. See him now before you. +To him I owe my life, or at least the comfort of imploring your forgiveness +before I die.”<br> +<br> +“Pardon me, young gentleman,” said Atkins, “I fear +my passion wronged you.”<br> +<br> +“Never, never, sir,” said Harley “if it had, your +reconciliation to your daughter were an atonement a thousand fold.” +He then repeated his request that he might be allowed to conduct them +to his lodgings, to which Mr. Atkins at last consented. He took +his daughter’s arm.<br> +<br> +“Come, my Emily,” said he, “we can never, never recover +that happiness we have lost! but time may teach us to remember our misfortunes +with patience.”<br> +<br> +When they arrived at the house where Harley lodged, he was informed +that the first floor was then vacant, and that the gentleman and his +daughter might be accommodated there. While he was upon his enquiry, +Miss Atkins informed her father more particularly what she owed to his +benevolence. When he turned into the room where they were Atkins +ran and embraced him; - begged him again to forgive the offence he had +given him, and made the warmest protestations of gratitude for his favours. +We would attempt to describe the joy which Harley felt on this occasion, +did it not occur to us that one half of the world could not understand +it though we did, and the other half will, by this time, have understood +it without any description at all.<br> +<br> +Miss Atkins now retired to her chamber, to take some rest from the violence +of the emotions she had suffered. When she was gone, her father, +addressing himself to Harley, said, “You have a right, sir, to +be informed of the present situation of one who owes so much to your +compassion for his misfortunes. My daughter I find has informed +you what that was at the fatal juncture when they began. Her distresses +you have heard, you have pitied as they deserved; with mine, perhaps, +I cannot so easily make you acquainted. You have a feeling heart, +Mr. Harley; I bless it that it has saved my child; but you never were +a father, a father torn by that most dreadful of calamities, the dishonour +of a child he doated on! You have been already informed of some +of the circumstances of her elopement: I was then from home, called +by the death of a relation, who, though he would never advance me a +shilling on the utmost exigency in his life-time, left me all the gleanings +of his frugality at his death. I would not write this intelligence +to my daughter, because I intended to be the bearer myself; and as soon +as my business would allow me, I set out on my return, winged with all +the haste of paternal affection. I fondly built those schemes +of future happiness, which present prosperity is ever busy to suggest: +my Emily was concerned in them all. As I approached our little +dwelling my heart throbbed with the anticipation of joy and welcome. +I imagined the cheering fire, the blissful contentment of a frugal meal, +made luxurious by a daughter’s smile, I painted to myself her +surprise at the tidings of our new-acquired riches, our fond disputes +about the disposal of them.<br> +<br> +“The road was shortened by the dreams of happiness I enjoyed, +and it began to be dark as I reached the house: I alighted from my horse, +and walked softly upstairs to the room we commonly sat in. I was +somewhat disappointed at not finding my daughter there. I rung +the bell; her maid appeared, and shewed no small signs of wonder at +the summons. She blessed herself as she entered the room: I smiled +at her surprise. ‘Where is Miss Emily, sir?’ said +she.<br> +<br> +“‘Emily!’<br> +<br> +“‘Yes, sir; she has been gone hence some days, upon receipt +of those letters you sent her.’<br> +<br> +“‘Letters!’ said I.<br> +<br> +“‘Yes, sir, so she told me, and went off in all haste that +very night.’<br> +<br> +“I stood aghast as she spoke, but was able so far to recollect +myself, as to put on the affectation of calmness, and telling her there +was certainly some mistake in the affair, desired her to leave me.<br> +<br> +“When she was gone, I threw myself into a chair, in that state +of uncertainty which is, of all others, the most dreadful. The +gay visions with which I had delighted myself, vanished in an instant. +I was tortured with tracing back the same circle of doubt and disappointment. +My head grew dizzy as I thought. I called the servant again, and +asked her a hundred questions, to no purpose; there was not room even +for conjecture.<br> +<br> +“Something at last arose in my mind, which we call Hope, without +knowing what it is. I wished myself deluded by it; but it could +not prevail over my returning fears. I rose and walked through +the room. My Emily’s spinnet stood at the end of it, open, +with a book of music folded down at some of my favourite lessons. +I touched the keys; there was a vibration in the sound that froze my +blood; I looked around, and methought the family pictures on the walls +gazed on me with compassion in their faces. I sat down again with +an attempt at more composure; I started at every creaking of the door, +and my ears rung with imaginary noises!<br> +<br> +“I had not remained long in this situation, when the arrival of +a friend, who had accidentally heard of my return, put an end to my +doubts, by the recital of my daughter’s dishonour. He told +me he had his information from a young gentleman, to whom Winbrooke +had boasted of having seduced her.<br> +<br> +“I started from my seat, with broken curses on my lips, and without +knowing whither I should pursue them, ordered my servant to load my +pistols and saddle my horses. My friend, however, with great difficulty, +persuaded me to compose myself for that night, promising to accompany +me on the morrow, to Sir George Winbrooke’s in quest of his son.<br> +<br> +“The morrow came, after a night spent in a state little distant +from madness. We went as early as decency would allow to Sir George’s. +He received me with politeness, and indeed compassion, protested his +abhorrence of his son’s conduct, and told me that he had set out +some days before for London, on which place he had procured a draft +for a large sum, on pretence of finishing his travels, but that he had +not heard from him since his departure.<br> +<br> +“I did not wait for any more, either of information or comfort, +but, against the united remonstrances of Sir George and my friend, set +out instantly for London, with a frantic uncertainty of purpose; but +there, all manner of search was in vain. I could trace neither +of them any farther than the inn where they first put up on their arrival; +and after some days fruitless inquiry, returned home destitute of every +little hope that had hitherto supported me. The journeys I had +made, the restless nights I had spent, above all, the perturbation of +my mind, had the effect which naturally might be expected - a very dangerous +fever was the consequence. From this, however, contrary to the +expectation of my physicians, I recovered. It was now that I first +felt something like calmness of mind: probably from being reduced to +a state which could not produce the exertions of anguish or despair. +A stupid melancholy settled on my soul; I could endure to live with +an apathy of life; at times I forgot my resentment, and wept at the +remembrance of my child.<br> +<br> +“Such has been the tenor of my days since that fatal moment when +these misfortunes began, till yesterday, that I received a letter from +a friend in town, acquainting me of her present situation. Could +such tales as mine, Mr. Harley, be sometimes suggested to the daughters +of levity, did they but know with what anxiety the heart of a parent +flutters round the child he loves, they would be less apt to construe +into harshness that delicate concern for their conduct, which they often +complain of as laying restraint upon things, to the young, the gay, +and the thoughtless, seemingly harmless and indifferent. Alas! +I fondly imagined that I needed not even these common cautions! my Emily +was the joy of my age, and the pride of my soul! Those things +are now no more, they are lost for ever! Her death I could have +born, but the death of her honour has added obloquy and shame to that +sorrow which bends my grey hairs to the dust!”<br> +<br> +As he spoke these last words, his voice trembled in his throat; it was +now lost in his tears. He sat with his face half turned from Harley, +as if he would have hid the sorrow which he felt. Harley was in +the same attitude himself; he durst not meet his eye with a tear, but +gathering his stifled breath, “Let me entreat you, sir,” +said he, “to hope better things. The world is ever tyrannical; +it warps our sorrows to edge them with keener affliction. Let +us not be slaves to the names it affixes to motive or to action. +I know an ingenuous mind cannot help feeling when they sting. +But there are considerations by which it may be overcome. Its +fantastic ideas vanish as they rise; they teach us to look beyond it.”<br> +<br> +* * * * *<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +A FRAGMENT. SHOWING HIS SUCCESS WITH THE BARONET<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +* * The card he received was in the politest style in which disappointment +could be communicated. The baronet “was under a necessity +of giving up his application for Mr. Harley, as he was informed that +the lease was engaged for a gentleman who had long served His Majesty +in another capacity, and whose merit had entitled him to the first lucrative +thing that should be vacant.” Even Harley could not murmur +at such a disposal. “Perhaps,” said he to himself, +“some war-worn officer, who, like poor Atkins, had been neglected +from reasons which merited the highest advancement; whose honour could +not stoop to solicit the preferment he deserved; perhaps, with a family, +taught the principles of delicacy, without the means of supporting it; +a wife and children - gracious heaven! whom my wishes would have deprived +of bread - ”<br> +<br> +He was interrupted in his reverie by some one tapping him on the shoulder, +and, on turning round, he discovered it to be the very man who had explained +to him the condition of his gay companion at Hyde Park Corner. +“I am glad to see you, sir,” said he; “I believe we +are fellows in disappointment.” Harley started, and said +that he was at a loss to understand him. “Pooh! you need +not be so shy,” answered the other; “every one for himself +is but fair, and I had much rather you had got it than the rascally +gauger.” Harley still protested his ignorance of what he +meant. “Why, the lease of Bancroft Manor; had not you been +applying for it?” “I confess I was,” replied +Harley; “but I cannot conceive how you should be interested in +the matter.” “Why, I was making interest for it myself,” +said he, “and I think I had some title. I voted for this +same baronet at the last election, and made some of my friends do so +too; though I would not have you imagine that I sold my vote. +No, I scorn it, let me tell you I scorn it; but I thought as how this +man was staunch and true, and I find he’s but a double-faced fellow +after all, and speechifies in the House for any side he hopes to make +most by. Oh, how many fine speeches and squeezings by the hand +we had of him on the canvas! ‘And if ever I shall be so +happy as to have an opportunity of serving you.’ A murrain +on the smooth-tongued knave, and after all to get it for this pimp of +a gauger.” “The gauger! there must be some mistake,” +said Harley. “He writes me, that it was engaged for one +whose long services - ” “Services!” interrupted +the other; “you shall hear. Services! Yes, his sister +arrived in town a few days ago, and is now sempstress to the baronet. +A plague on all rogues, says honest Sam Wrightson. I shall but +just drink damnation to them to-night, in a crown’s worth of Ashley’s, +and leave London to-morrow by sun-rise.” “I shall +leave it too,” said Harley; and so he accordingly did.<br> +<br> +In passing through Piccadilly, he had observed, on the window of an +inn, a notification of the departure of a stage-coach for a place in +his road homewards; in the way back to his lodgings, he took a seat +in it for his return.<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +CHAPTER XXXIII - HE LEAVES LONDON - CHARACTERS IN A STAGE-COACH<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +The company in the stage-coach consisted of a grocer and his wife, who +were going to pay a visit to some of their country friends; a young +officer, who took this way of marching to quarters; a middle-aged gentlewoman, +who had been hired as housekeeper to some family in the country; and +an elderly, well-looking man, with a remarkable old-fashioned periwig.<br> +<br> +Harley, upon entering, discovered but one vacant seat, next the grocer’s +wife, which, from his natural shyness of temper, he made no scruple +to occupy, however aware that riding backwards always disagreed with +him.<br> +<br> +Though his inclination to physiognomy had met with some rubs in the +metropolis, he had not yet lost his attachment to that science. +He set himself, therefore, to examine, as usual, the countenances of +his companions. Here, indeed, he was not long in doubt as to the +preference; for besides that the elderly gentleman, who sat opposite +to him, had features by nature more expressive of good dispositions, +there was something in that periwig we mentioned, peculiarly attractive +of Harley’s regard.<br> +<br> +He had not been long employed in these speculations, when he found himself +attacked with that faintish sickness, which was the natural consequence +of his situation in the coach. The paleness of his countenance +was first observed by the housekeeper, who immediately made offer of +her smelling bottle, which Harley, however, declined, telling at the +same time the cause of his uneasiness. The gentleman, on the opposite +side of the coach, now first turned his eye from the side direction +in which it had been fixed, and begged Harley to exchange places with +him, expressing his regret that he had not made the proposal before. +Harley thanked him, and, upon being assured that both seats were alike +to him, was about to accept of his offer, when the young gentleman of +the sword, putting on an arch look, laid hold of the other’s arm. +“So, my old boy,” said he, “I find you have still +some youthful blood about you, but, with your leave, I will do myself +the honour of sitting by this lady;” and took his place accordingly. +The grocer stared him as full in the face as his own short neck would +allow, and his wife, who was a little, round-faced woman, with a great +deal of colour in her cheeks, drew up at the compliment that was paid +her, looking first at the officer, and then at the housekeeper.<br> +<br> +This incident was productive of some discourse; for before, though there +was sometimes a cough or a hem from the grocer, and the officer now +and then humm’d a few notes of a song, there had not a single +word passed the lips of any of the company.<br> +<br> +Mrs. Grocer observed, how ill-convenient it was for people, who could +not be drove backwards, to travel in a stage. This brought on +a dissertation on stage-coaches in general, and the pleasure of keeping +a chay of one’s own; which led to another, on the great riches +of Mr. Deputy Bearskin, who, according to her, had once been of that +industrious order of youths who sweep the crossings of the streets for +the conveniency of passengers, but, by various fortunate accidents, +had now acquired an immense fortune, and kept his coach and a dozen +livery servants. All this afforded ample fund for conversation, +if conversation it might be called, that was carried on solely by the +before-mentioned lady, nobody offering to interrupt her, except that +the officer sometimes signified his approbation by a variety of oaths, +a sort of phraseology in which he seemed extremely versant. She +appealed indeed, frequently, to her husband for the authenticity of +certain facts, of which the good man as often protested his total ignorance; +but as he was always called fool, or something very like it, for his +pains, he at last contrived to support the credit of his wife without +prejudice to his conscience, and signified his assent by a noise not +unlike the grunting of that animal which in shape and fatness he somewhat +resembled.<br> +<br> +The housekeeper, and the old gentleman who sat next to Harley, were +now observed to be fast asleep, at which the lady, who had been at such +pains to entertain them, muttered some words of displeasure, and, upon +the officer’s whispering to smoke the old put, both she and her +husband purs’d up their mouths into a contemptuous smile. +Harley looked sternly on the grocer. “You are come, sir,” +said he, “to those years when you might have learned some reverence +for age. As for this young man, who has so lately escaped from +the nursery, he may be allowed to divert himself.” “Dam’me, +sir!” said the officer, “do you call me young?” striking +up the front of his hat, and stretching forward on his seat, till his +face almost touched Harley’s. It is probable, however, that +he discovered something there which tended to pacify him, for, on the +ladies entreating them not to quarrel, he very soon resumed his posture +and calmness together, and was rather less profuse of his oaths during +the rest of the journey.<br> +<br> +It is possible the old gentleman had waked time enough to hear the last +part of this discourse; at least (whether from that cause, or that he +too was a physiognomist) he wore a look remarkably complacent to Harley, +who, on his part, shewed a particular observance of him. Indeed, +they had soon a better opportunity of making their acquaintance, as +the coach arrived that night at the town where the officer’s regiment +lay, and the places of destination of their other fellow-travellers, +it seems, were at no great distance, for, next morning, the old gentleman +and Harley were the only passengers remaining.<br> +<br> +When they left the inn in the morning, Harley, pulling out a little +pocket-book, began to examine the contents, and make some corrections +with a pencil. “This,” said he, turning to his companion, +“is an amusement with which I sometimes pass idle hours at an +inn. These are quotations from those humble poets, who trust their +fame to the brittle tenure of windows and drinking-glasses.” +“From our inn,” returned the gentleman, “a stranger +might imagine that we were a nation of poets; machines, at least, containing +poetry, which the motion of a journey emptied of their contents. +Is it from the vanity of being thought geniuses, or a mere mechanical +imitation of the custom of others, that we are tempted to scrawl rhyme +upon such places?”<br> +<br> +“Whether vanity is the cause of our becoming rhymesters or not,” +answered Harley, “it is a pretty certain effect of it. An +old man of my acquaintance, who deals in apothegms, used to say that +he had known few men without envy, few wits without ill-nature, and +no poet without vanity; and I believe his remark is a pretty just one. +Vanity has been immemorially the charter of poets. In this, the +ancients were more honest than we are. The old poets frequently +make boastful predictions of the immortality their works shall acquire +them; ours, in their dedications and prefatory discourses, employ much +eloquence to praise their patrons, and much seeming modesty to condemn +themselves, or at least to apologise for their productions to the world. +But this, in my opinion, is the more assuming manner of the two; for +of all the garbs I ever saw Pride put on, that of her humility is to +me the most disgusting.”<br> +<br> +“It is natural enough for a poet to be vain,” said the stranger. +“The little worlds which he raises, the inspiration which he claims, +may easily be productive of self-importance; though that inspiration +is fabulous, it brings on egotism, which is always the parent of vanity.”<br> +<br> +“It may be supposed,” answered Harley, “that inspiration +of old was an article of religious faith; in modern times it may be +translated a propensity to compose; and I believe it is not always most +readily found where the poets have fixed its residence, amidst groves +and plains, and the scenes of pastoral retirement. The mind may +be there unbent from the cares of the world, but it will frequently, +at the same time, be unnerved from any great exertion. It will +feel imperfect, and wander without effort over the regions of reflection.”<br> +<br> +“There is at least,” said the stranger, “one advantage +in the poetical inclination, that it is an incentive to philanthropy. +There is a certain poetic ground, on which a man cannot tread without +feelings that enlarge the heart: the causes of human depravity vanish +before the romantic enthusiasm he professes, and many who are not able +to reach the Parnassian heights, may yet approach so near as to be bettered +by the air of the climate.”<br> +<br> +“I have always thought so,” replied Harley; “but this +is an argument with the prudent against it: they urge the danger of +unfitness for the world.”<br> +<br> +“I allow it,” returned the other; “but I believe it +is not always rightfully imputed to the bent for poetry: that is only +one effect of the common cause. - Jack, says his father, is indeed no +scholar; nor could all the drubbings from his master ever bring him +one step forward in his accidence or syntax: but I intend him for a +merchant. - Allow the same indulgence to Tom. - Tom reads Virgil and +Horace when he should be casting accounts; and but t’other day +he pawned his great-coat for an edition of Shakespeare. - But Tom would +have been as he is, though Virgil and Horace had never been born, though +Shakespeare had died a link-boy; for his nurse will tell you, that when +he was a child, he broke his rattle, to discover what it was that sounded +within it; and burnt the sticks of his go-cart, because he liked to +see the sparkling of timber in the fire. - ’Tis a sad case; but +what is to be done? - Why, Jack shall make a fortune, dine on venison, +and drink claret. - Ay, but Tom - Tom shall dine with his brother, when +his pride will let him; at other times, he shall bless God over a half-pint +of ale and a Welsh-rabbit; and both shall go to heaven as they may. +- That’s a poor prospect for Tom, says the father. - To go to +heaven! I cannot agree with him.”<br> +<br> +“Perhaps,” said Harley, “we now-a-days discourage +the romantic turn a little too much. Our boys are prudent too +soon. Mistake me not, I do not mean to blame them for want of +levity or dissipation; but their pleasures are those of hackneyed vice, +blunted to every finer emotion by the repetition of debauch; and their +desire of pleasure is warped to the desire of wealth, as the means of +procuring it. The immense riches acquired by individuals have +erected a standard of ambition, destructive of private morals, and of +public virtue. The weaknesses of vice are left us; but the most +allowable of our failings we are taught to despise. Love, the +passion most natural to the sensibility of youth, has lost the plaintive +dignity he once possessed, for the unmeaning simper of a dangling coxcomb; +and the only serious concern, that of a dowry, is settled, even amongst +the beardless leaders of the dancing-school. The Frivolous and +the Interested (might a satirist say) are the characteristical features +of the age; they are visible even in the essays of our philosophers. +They laugh at the pedantry of our fathers, who complained of the times +in which they lived; they are at pains to persuade us how much those +were deceived; they pride themselves in defending things as they find +them, and in exploding the barren sounds which had been reared into +motives for action. To this their style is suited; and the manly +tone of reason is exchanged for perpetual efforts at sneer and ridicule. +This I hold to be an alarming crisis in the corruption of a state; when +not only is virtue declined, and vice prevailing, but when the praises +of virtue are forgotten, and the infamy of vice unfelt.”<br> +<br> +They soon after arrived at the next inn upon the route of the stage-coach, +when the stranger told Harley, that his brother’s house, to which +he was returning, lay at no great distance, and he must therefore unwillingly +bid him adieu.<br> +<br> +“I should like,” said Harley, taking his hand, “to +have some word to remember so much seeming worth by: my name is Harley.”<br> +<br> +“I shall remember it,” answered the old gentleman, “in +my prayers; mine is Silton.”<br> +<br> +And Silton indeed it was! Ben Silton himself! Once more, +my honoured friend, farewell! - Born to be happy without the world, +to that peaceful happiness which the world has not to bestow! +Envy never scowled on thy life, nor hatred smiled on thy grave.<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +CHAPTER XXXIV - HE MEETS AN OLD ACQUAINTANCE<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +When the stage-coach arrived at the place of its destination, Harley +began to consider how he should proceed the remaining part of his journey. +He was very civilly accosted by the master of the inn, who offered to +accommodate him either with a post-chaise or horses, to any distance +he had a mind: but as he did things frequently in a way different from +what other people call natural, he refused these offers, and set out +immediately a-foot, having first put a spare shirt in his pocket, and +given directions for the forwarding of his portmanteau. This was +a method of travelling which he was accustomed to take: it saved the +trouble of provision for any animal but himself, and left him at liberty +to chose his quarters, either at an inn, or at the first cottage in +which he saw a face he liked: nay, when he was not peculiarly attracted +by the reasonable creation, he would sometimes consort with a species +of inferior rank, and lay himself down to sleep by the side of a rock, +or on the banks of a rivulet. He did few things without a motive, +but his motives were rather eccentric: and the useful and expedient +were terms which he held to be very indefinite, and which therefore +he did not always apply to the sense in which they are commonly understood.<br> +<br> +The sun was now in his decline, and the evening remarkably serene, when +he entered a hollow part of the road, which winded between the surrounding +banks, and seamed the sward in different lines, as the choice of travellers +had directed them to tread it. It seemed to be little frequented +now, for some of those had partly recovered their former verdure. +The scene was such as induced Harley to stand and enjoy it; when, turning +round, his notice was attracted by an object, which the fixture of his +eye on the spot he walked had before prevented him from observing.<br> +<br> +An old man, who from his dress seemed to have been a soldier, lay fast +asleep on the ground; a knapsack rested on a stone at his right hand, +while his staff and brass-hilted sword were crossed at his left.<br> +<br> +Harley looked on him with the most earnest attention. He was one +of those figures which Salvator would have drawn; nor was the surrounding +scenery unlike the wildness of that painter’s back-grounds. +The banks on each side were covered with fantastic shrub-wood, and at +a little distance, on the top of one of them, stood a finger-post, to +mark the directions of two roads which diverged from the point where +it was placed. A rock, with some dangling wild flowers, jutted +out above where the soldier lay; on which grew the stump of a large +tree, white with age, and a single twisted branch shaded his face as +he slept. His face had the marks of manly comeliness impaired +by time; his forehead was not altogether bald, but its hairs might have +been numbered; while a few white locks behind crossed the brown of his +neck with a contrast the most venerable to a mind like Harley’s. +“Thou art old,” said he to himself; “but age has not +brought thee rest for its infirmities; I fear those silver hairs have +not found shelter from thy country, though that neck has been bronzed +in its service.” The stranger waked. He looked at +Harley with the appearance of some confusion: it was a pain the latter +knew too well to think of causing in another; he turned and went on. +The old man re-adjusted his knapsack, and followed in one of the tracks +on the opposite side of the road.<br> +<br> +When Harley heard the tread of his feet behind him, he could not help +stealing back a glance at his fellow-traveller. He seemed to bend +under the weight of his knapsack; he halted on his walk, and one of +his arms was supported by a sling, and lay motionless across his breast. +He had that steady look of sorrow, which indicates that its owner has +gazed upon his griefs till he has forgotten to lament them; yet not +without those streaks of complacency which a good mind will sometimes +throw into the countenance, through all the incumbent load of its depression.<br> +<br> +He had now advanced nearer to Harley, and, with an uncertain sort of +voice, begged to know what it was o’clock; “I fear,” +said he, “sleep has beguiled me of my time, and I shall hardly +have light enough left to carry me to the end of my journey.”<br> +<br> +“Father!” said Harley (who by this time found the romantic +enthusiasm rising within him) “how far do you mean to go?”<br> +<br> +“But a little way, sir,” returned the other; “and +indeed it is but a little way I can manage now: ’tis just four +miles from the height to the village, thither I am going.”<br> +<br> +“I am going there too,” said Harley; “we may make +the road shorter to each other. You seem to have served your country, +sir, to have served it hardly too; ’tis a character I have the +highest esteem for. - I would not be impertinently inquisitive; but +there is that in your appearance which excites my curiosity to know +something more of you; in the meantime, suffer me to carry that knapsack.”<br> +<br> +The old man gazed on him; a tear stood in his eye! “Young +gentleman,” said he, “you are too good; may Heaven bless +you for an old man’s sake, who has nothing but his blessing to +give! but my knapsack is so familiar to my shoulders, that I should +walk the worse for wanting it; and it would be troublesome to you, who +have not been used to its weight.”<br> +<br> +“Far from it,” answered Harley, “I should tread the +lighter; it would be the most honourable badge I ever wore.”<br> +<br> +“Sir,” said the stranger, who had looked earnestly in Harley’s +face during the last part of his discourse, “is act your name +Harley?”<br> +<br> +“It is,” replied he; “I am ashamed to say I have forgotten +yours.”<br> +<br> +“You may well have forgotten my face,” said the stranger; +- “’tis a long time since you saw it; but possibly you may +remember something of old Edwards.”<br> +<br> +“Edwards!” cried Harley, “oh! heavens!” and +sprung to embrace him; “let me clasp those knees on which I have +sat so often: Edwards! - I shall never forget that fire-side, round +which I have been so happy! But where, where have you been? where +is Jack? where is your daughter? How has it fared with them, when +fortune, I fear, has been so unkind to you?”<br> +<br> +“’Tis a long tale,” replied Edwards; “but I +will try to tell it you as we walk.<br> +<br> +“When you were at school in the neighbourhood, you remember me +at South-hill: that farm had been possessed by my father, grandfather, +and great-grandfather, which last was a younger brother of that very +man’s ancestor, who is now lord of the manor. I thought +I managed it, as they had done, with prudence; I paid my rent regularly +as it became due, and had always as much behind as gave bread to me +and my children. But my last lease was out soon after you left +that part of the country; and the squire, who had lately got a London-attorney +for his steward, would not renew it, because, he said, he did not chuse +to have any farm under £300 a year value on his estate; but offered +to give me the preference on the same terms with another, if I chose +to take the one he had marked out, of which mine was a part.<br> +<br> +“What could I do, Mr. Harley? I feared the undertaking was +too great for me; yet to leave, at my age, the house I had lived in +from my cradle! I could not, Mr. Harley, I could not; there was +not a tree about it that I did not look on as my father, my brother, +or my child: so I even ran the risk, and took the squire’s offer +of the whole. But had soon reason to repent of my bargain; the +steward had taken care that my former farm should be the best land of +the division: I was obliged to hire more servants, and I could not have +my eye over them all; some unfavourable seasons followed one another, +and I found my affairs entangling on my hands. To add to my distress, +a considerable corn-factor turned bankrupt with a sum of mine in his +possession: I failed paying my rent so punctually as I was wont to do, +and the same steward had my stock taken in execution in a few days after. +So, Mr. Harley, there was an end of my prosperity. However, there +was as much produced from the sale of my effects as paid my debts and +saved me from a jail: I thank God I wronged no man, and the world could +never charge me with dishonesty.<br> +<br> +“Had you seen us, Mr. Harley, when we were turned out of South-hill, +I am sure you would have wept at the sight. You remember old Trusty, +my shag house-dog; I shall never forget it while I live; the poor creature +was blind with age, and could scarce crawl after us to the door; he +went however as far as the gooseberry-bush that you may remember stood +on the left side of the yard; he was wont to bask in the sun there; +when he had reached that spot, he stopped; we went on: I called to him; +he wagged his tail, but did not stir: I called again; he lay down: I +whistled, and cried Trusty; he gave a short howl, and died! I +could have lain down and died too; but God gave me strength to live +for my children.”<br> +<br> +The old man now paused a moment to take breath. He eyed Harley’s +face; it was bathed with tears: the story was grown familiar to himself; +he dropped one tear, and no more.<br> +<br> +“Though I was poor,” continued he, “I was not altogether +without credit. A gentleman in the neighbourhood, who had a small +farm unoccupied at the time, offered to let me have it, on giving security +for the rent; which I made shift to procure. It was a piece of +ground which required management to make anything of; but it was nearly +within the compass of my son’s labour and my own. We exerted +all our industry to bring it into some heart. We began to succeed +tolerably and lived contented on its produce, when an unlucky accident +brought us under the displeasure of a neighbouring justice of the peace, +and broke all our family-happiness again.<br> +<br> +“My son was a remarkable good shooter; he-had always kept a pointer +on our former farm, and thought no harm in doing so now; when one day, +having sprung a covey in our own ground, the dog, of his own accord, +followed them into the justice’s. My son laid down his gun, +and went after his dog to bring him back: the game-keeper, who had marked +the birds, came up, and seeing the pointer, shot him just as my son +approached. The creature fell; my son ran up to him: he died with +a complaining sort of cry at his master’s feet. Jack could +bear it no longer; but, flying at the game-keeper, wrenched his gun +out of his hand, and with the butt end of it, felled him to the ground.<br> +<br> +“He had scarce got home, when a constable came with a warrant, +and dragged him to prison; there he lay, for the justices would not +take bail, till he was tried at the quarter-sessions for the assault +and battery. His fine was hard upon us to pay: we contrived however +to live the worse for it, and make up the loss by our frugality: but +the justice was not content with that punishment, and soon after had +an opportunity of punishing us indeed.<br> +<br> +“An officer with press-orders came down to our county, and having +met with the justices, agreed that they should pitch on a certain number, +who could most easily be spared from the county, of whom he would take +care to clear it: my son’s name was in the justices’ list.<br> +<br> +“’Twas on a Christmas eve, and the birth-day too of my son’s +little boy. The night was piercing cold, and it blew a storm, +with showers of hail and snow. We had made up a cheering fire +in an inner room; I sat before it in my wicker-chair; blessing providence, +that had still left a shelter for me and my children. My son’s +two little ones were holding their gambols around us; my heart warmed +at the sight: I brought a bottle of my best ale, and all our misfortunes +were forgotten.<br> +<br> +“It had long been our custom to play a game at blind man’s +buff on that night, and it was not omitted now; so to it we fell, I, +and my son, and his wife, the daughter of a neighbouring farmer, who +happened to be with us at the time, the two children, and an old maid +servant, who had lived with me from a child. The lot fell on my +son to be blindfolded: we had continued some time in our game, when +he groped his way into an outer room in pursuit of some of us, who, +he imagined, had taken shelter there; we kept snug in our places, and +enjoyed his mistake. He had not been long there, when he was suddenly +seized from behind; ‘I shall have you now,’ said he, and +turned about. ‘Shall you so, master?’ answered the +ruffian, who had laid hold of him; ‘we shall make you play at +another sort of game by and by.’” - At these words Harley +started with a convulsive sort of motion, and grasping Edwards’s +sword, drew it half out of the scabbard, with a look of the most frantic +wildness. Edwards gently replaced it in its sheath, and went on +with his relation.<br> +<br> +“On hearing these words in a strange voice, we all rushed out +to discover the cause; the room by this time was almost full of the +gang. My daughter-in-law fainted at the sight; the maid and I +ran to assist her, while my poor son remained motionless, gazing by +turns on his children and their mother. We soon recovered her +to life, and begged her to retire and wait the issue of the affair; +but she flew to her husband, and clung round him in an agony of terror +and grief.<br> +<br> +“In the gang was one of a smoother aspect, whom, by his dress, +we discovered to be a serjeant of foot: he came up to me, and told me, +that my son had his choice of the sea or land service, whispering at +the same time that, if he chose the land, he might get off, on procuring +him another man, and paying a certain sum for his freedom. The +money we could just muster up in the house, by the assistance of the +maid, who produced, in a green bag, all the little savings of her service; +but the man we could not expect to find. My daughter-in-law gazed +upon her children with a look of the wildest despair: ‘My poor +infants!’ said she, ‘your father is forced from you; who +shall now labour for your bread? or must your mother beg for herself +and you?’ I prayed her to be patient; but comfort I had +none to give her. At last, calling the serjeant aside, I asked +him, ‘If I was too old to be accepted in place of my son?’<br> +<br> +“‘Why, I don’t know,’ said he; ‘you are +rather old to be sure, but yet the money may do much.’<br> +<br> +“I put the money in his hand, and coming back to my children, +‘Jack,’ said I, ‘you are free; live to give your wife +and these little ones bread; I will go, my child, in your stead; I have +but little life to lose, and if I staid, I should add one to the wretches +you left behind.’<br> +<br> +“‘No,’ replied my son, ‘I am not that coward +you imagine me; heaven forbid that my father’s grey hairs should +be so exposed, while I sat idle at home; I am young and able to endure +much, and God will take care of you and my family.’<br> +<br> +“‘Jack,’ said I, ‘I will put an end to this +matter, you have never hitherto disobeyed me; I will not be contradicted +in this; stay at home, I charge you, and, for my sake, be kind to my +children.’<br> +<br> +“Our parting, Mr. Harley, I cannot describe to you; it was the +first time we ever had parted: the very press-gang could scarce keep +from tears; but the serjeant, who had seemed the softest before, was +now the least moved of them all. He conducted me to a party of +new-raised recruits, who lay at a village in the neighbourhood; and +we soon after joined the regiment. I had not been long with it +when we were ordered to the East Indies, where I was soon made a serjeant, +and might have picked up some money, if my heart had been as hard as +some others were; but my nature was never of that kind, that could think +of getting rich at the expense of my conscience.<br> +<br> +“Amongst our prisoners was an old Indian, whom some of our officers +supposed to have a treasure hidden somewhere; which is no uncommon practice +in that country. They pressed him to discover it. He declared +he had none, but that would not satisfy them, so they ordered him to +be tied to a stake, and suffer fifty lashes every morning till he should +learn to speak out, as they said. Oh! Mr. Harley, had you seen +him, as I did, with his hands bound behind him, suffering in silence, +while the big drops trickled down his shrivelled cheeks and wet his +grey beard, which some of the inhuman soldiers plucked in scorn! +I could not bear it, I could not for my soul, and one morning, when +the rest of the guard were out of the way, I found means to let him +escape. I was tried by a court-martial for negligence of my post, +and ordered, in compassion of my age, and having got this wound in my +arm and that in my leg in the service, only to suffer three hundred +lashes and be turned out of the regiment; but my sentence was mitigated +as to the lashes, and I had only two hundred. When I had suffered +these I was turned out of the camp, and had betwixt three and four hundred +miles to travel before I could reach a sea-port, without guide to conduct +me, or money to buy me provisions by the way. I set out, however, +resolved to walk as far as I could, and then to lay myself down and +die. But I had scarce gone a mile when I was met by the Indian +whom I had delivered. He pressed me in his arms, and kissed the +marks of the lashes on my back a thousand times; he led me to a little +hut, where some friend of his dwelt, and after I was recovered of my +wounds conducted me so far on my journey himself, and sent another Indian +to guide me through the rest. When we parted he pulled out a purse +with two hundred pieces of gold in it. ‘Take this,’ +said he, ‘my dear preserver, it is all I have been able to procure.’<br> +<br> +“I begged him not to bring himself to poverty for my sake, who +should probably have no need of it long, but he insisted on my accepting +it. He embraced me. ‘You are an Englishman,’ +said he, ‘but the Great Spirit has given you an Indian heart, +may He bear up the weight of your old age, and blunt the arrow that +brings it rest!’<br> +<br> +“We parted, and not long after I made shift to get my passage +to England. ’Tis but about a week since I landed, and I +am going to end my days in the arms of my son. This sum may be +of use to him and his children, ’tis all the value I put upon +it. I thank Heaven I never was covetous of wealth; I never had +much, but was always so happy as to be content with my little.”<br> +<br> +When Edwards had ended his relation, Harley stood a while looking at +him in silence; at last he pressed him in his arms, and when he had +given vent to the fulness of his heart by a shower of tears, “Edwards,” +said he, “let me hold thee to my bosom, let me imprint the virtue +of thy sufferings on my soul. Come, my honoured veteran let me +endeavour to soften the last days of a life, worn out in the service +of humanity; call me also thy son, and let me cherish thee as a father.”’<br> +<br> +Edwards, from whom the recollection of his own suffering had scarced +forced a tear, now blubbered like a boy; he could not speak his gratitude, +but by some short exclamations of blessings upon Harley.<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +CHAPTER XXXV - HE MISSES AN OLD ACQUAINTANCE. - AN ADVENTURE CONSEQUENT +UPON IT<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +When they had arrived within a little way of the village they journeyed +to, Harley stopped short, and looked steadfastly on the mouldering walls +of a ruined house that stood on the road side. “Oh, heavens!” +he cried, “what do I see: silent, unroofed, and desolate! +Are all thy gay tenants gone? do I hear their hum no more Edwards, look +there, look there? the scene of my infant joys, my earliest friendships, +laid waste and ruinous! That was the very school where I was boarded +when you were at South-hill; ’tis but a twelve-month since I saw +it standing, and its benches filled with cherubs: that opposite side +of the road was the green on which they sported; see it now ploughed +up! I would have given fifty times its value to have saved it +from the sacrilege of that plough.”<br> +<br> +“Dear sir,” replied Edwards, “perhaps they have left +it from choice, and may have got another spot as good.”<br> +<br> +“They cannot,” said Harley, “they cannot; I shall +never see the sward covered with its daisies, nor pressed by the dance +of the dear innocents: I shall never see that stump decked with the +garlands which their little hands had gathered. These two long +stones, which now lie at the foot of it, were once the supports of a +hut I myself assisted to rear: I have sat on the sods within it, when +we had spread our banquet of apples before us, and been more blessed +- Oh! Edwards, infinitely more blessed, than ever I shall be again.”<br> +<br> +Just then a woman passed them on the road, and discovered some signs +of wonder at the attitude of Harley, who stood, with his hands folded +together, looking with a moistened eye on the fallen pillars of the +hut. He was too much entranced in thought to observe her at all, +but Edwards, civilly accosting her, desired to know if that had not +been the school-house, and how it came into the condition in which they +now saw it.<br> +<br> +“Alack a day!” said she, “it was the school-house +indeed; but to be sure, sir, the squire has pulled it down because it +stood in the way of his prospects.”<br> +<br> +“What! how! prospects! pulled down!” cried Harley.<br> +<br> +“Yes, to be sure, sir; and the green, where the children used +to play, he has ploughed up, because, he said, they hurt his fence on +the other side of it.”<br> +<br> +“Curses on his narrow heart,” cried Harley, “that +could violate a right so sacred! Heaven blast the wretch!<br> +<br> +<br> +“And from his derogate body never spring<br> +A babe to honour him!” -<br> +<br> +<br> +But I need not, Edwards, I need not” (recovering himself a little), +“he is cursed enough already: to him the noblest source of happiness +is denied, and the cares of his sordid soul shall gnaw it, while thou +sittest over a brown crust, smiling on those mangled limbs that have +saved thy son and his children!”<br> +<br> +“If you want anything with the school-mistress, sir,” said +the woman, “I can show you the way to her house.”<br> +<br> +He followed her without knowing whither he went.<br> +<br> +They stopped at the door of a snug habitation, where sat an elderly +woman with a boy and a girl before her, each of whom held a supper of +bread and milk in their hands.<br> +<br> +“There, sir, is the school-mistress.”<br> +<br> +“Madam,” said Harley, “was not an old venerable man +school-master here some time ago?”<br> +<br> +“Yes, sir, he was, poor man; the loss of his former school-house, +I believe, broke his heart, for he died soon after it was taken down, +and as another has not yet been found, I have that charge in the meantime.”<br> +<br> +“And this boy and girl, I presume, are your pupils?”<br> +<br> +“Ay, sir; they are poor orphans, put under my care by the parish, +and more promising children I never saw.”<br> +<br> +“Orphans?” said Harley.<br> +<br> +“Yes, sir, of honest creditable parents as any in the parish, +and it is a shame for some folks to forget their relations at a time +when they have most need to remember them.”<br> +<br> +“Madam,” said Harley, “let us never forget that we +are all relations.”<br> +<br> +He kissed the children.<br> +<br> +“Their father, sir,” continued she, “was a farmer +here in the neighbourhood, and a sober industrious man he was; but nobody +can help misfortunes: what with bad crops, and bad debts, which are +worse, his affairs went to wreck, and both he and his wife died of broken +hearts. And a sweet couple they were, sir; there was not a properer +man to look on in the county than John Edwards, and so indeed were all +the Edwardses.”<br> +<br> +“What Edwardses?” cried the old soldier hastily.<br> +<br> +“The Edwardses of South-hill, and a worthy family they were.”<br> +<br> +“South-hill!” said he, in a languid voice, and fell back +into the arms of the astonished Harley. The school-mistress ran +for some water - and a smelling-bottle, with the assistance of which +they soon recovered the unfortunate Edwards. He stared wildly +for some time, then folding his orphan grandchildren in his arms,<br> +<br> +“Oh! my children, my children,” he cried, “have I +found you thus? My poor Jack, art thou gone? I thought thou +shouldst have carried thy father’s grey hairs to the grave! and +these little ones” - his tears choked his utterance, and he fell +again on the necks of the children.<br> +<br> +“My dear old man,” said Harley, “Providence has sent +you to relieve them; it will bless me if I can be the means of assisting +you.”<br> +<br> +“Yes, indeed, sir,” answered the boy; “father, when +he was a-dying, bade God bless us, and prayed that if grandfather lived +he might send him to support us.”<br> +<br> +“Where did they lay my boy?” said Edwards.<br> +<br> +“In the Old Churchyard,” replied the woman, “hard +by his mother.”<br> +<br> +“I will show it you,” answered the boy, “for I have +wept over it many a time when first I came amongst strange folks.”<br> +<br> +He took the old man’s hand, Harley laid hold of his sister’s, +and they walked in silence to the churchyard.<br> +<br> +There was an old stone, with the corner broken off, and some letters, +half-covered with moss, to denote the names of the dead: there was a +cyphered R. E. plainer than the rest; it was the tomb they sought.<br> +<br> +“Here it is, grandfather,” said the boy.<br> +<br> +Edwards gazed upon it without uttering a word: the girl, who had only +sighed before, now wept outright; her brother sobbed, but he stifled +his sobbing.<br> +<br> +“I have told sister,” said he, “that she should not +take it so to heart; she can knit already, and I shall soon be able +to dig, we shall not starve, sister, indeed we shall not, nor shall +grandfather neither.”<br> +<br> +The girl cried afresh; Harley kissed off her tears as they flowed, and +wept between every kiss.<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +CHAPTER XXXVI - HE RETURNS HOME. - A DESCRIPTION OF HIS RETINUE<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +It was with some difficulty that Harley prevailed on the old man to +leave the spot where the remains of his son were laid. At last, +with the assistance of the school-mistress, he prevailed; and she accommodated +Edwards and him with beds in her house, there being nothing like an +inn nearer than the distance of some miles.<br> +<br> +In the morning Harley persuaded Edwards to come with the children to +his house, which was distant but a short day’s journey. +The boy walked in his grandfather’s hand; and the name of Edwards +procured him a neighbouring farmer’s horse, on which a servant +mounted, with the girl on a pillow before him.<br> +<br> +With this train Harley returned to the abode of his fathers: and we +cannot but think, that his enjoyment was as great as if he had arrived +from the tour of Europe with a Swiss valet for his companion, and half +a dozen snuff-boxes, with invisible hinges, in his pocket. But +we take our ideas from sounds which folly has invented; Fashion, Boa +ton, and Vertù, are the names of certain idols, to which we sacrifice +the genuine pleasures of the soul: in this world of semblance, we are +contented with personating happiness; to feel it is an art beyond us.<br> +<br> +It was otherwise with Harley; he ran upstairs to his aunt with the history +of his fellow-travellers glowing on his lips. His aunt was an +economist; but she knew the pleasure of doing charitable things, and +withal was fond of her nephew, and solicitous to oblige him. She +received old Edwards therefore with a look of more complacency than +is perhaps natural to maiden ladies of three-score, and was remarkably +attentive to his grandchildren: she roasted apples with her own hands +for their supper, and made up a little bed beside her own for the girl. +Edwards made some attempts towards an acknowledgment for these favours; +but his young friend stopped them in their beginnings.<br> +<br> +“Whosoever receiveth any of these children,” said his aunt; +for her acquaintance with her Bible was habitual.<br> +<br> +Early next morning Harley stole into the room where Edwards lay: he +expected to have found him a-bed, but in this he was mistaken: the old +man had risen, and was leaning over his sleeping grandson, with the +tears flowing down his cheeks. At first he did not perceive Harley; +when he did, he endeavoured to hide his grief, and crossing his eyes +with his hand expressed his surprise at seeing him so early astir.<br> +<br> +“I was thinking of you,” said Harley, “and your children: +I learned last night that a small farm of mine in the neighbourhood +is now vacant: if you will occupy it I shall gain a good neighbour and +be able in some measure to repay the notice you took of me when a boy, +and as the furniture of the house is mine, it will be so much trouble +saved.”<br> +<br> +Edwards’s tears gushed afresh, and Harley led him to see the place +he intended for him.<br> +<br> +The house upon this farm was indeed little better than a hut; its situation, +however, was pleasant, and Edwards, assisted by the beneficence of Harley, +set about improving its neatness and convenience. He staked out +a piece of the green before for a garden, and Peter, who acted in Harley’s +family as valet, butler, and gardener, had orders to furnish him with +parcels of the different seeds he chose to sow in it. I have seen +his master at work in this little spot with his coat off, and his dibble +in his hand: it was a scene of tranquil virtue to have stopped an angel +on his errands of mercy! Harley had contrived to lead a little +bubbling brook through a green walk in the middle of the ground, upon +which he had erected a mill in miniature for the diversion of Edwards’s +infant grandson, and made shift in its construction to introduce a pliant +bit of wood that answered with its fairy clack to the murmuring of the +rill that turned it. I have seen him stand, listening to these +mingled sounds, with his eye fixed on the boy, and the smile of conscious +satisfaction on his cheek, while the old man, with a look half turned +to Harley and half to heaven, breathed an ejaculation of gratitude and +piety.<br> +<br> +Father of mercies! I also would thank thee that not only hast +thou assigned eternal rewards to virtue, but that, even in this bad +world, the lines of our duty and our happiness are so frequently woven +together.<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +A FRAGMENT. - THE MAN OF FEELING TALKS OF WHAT HE DOES NOT UNDERSTAND. +- AN INCIDENT<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +* * * * “Edwards,” said he, “I have a proper regard +for the prosperity of my country: every native of it appropriates to +himself some share of the power, or the fame, which, as a nation, it +acquires, but I cannot throw off the man so much as to rejoice at our +conquests in India. You tell me of immense territories subject +to the English: I cannot think of their possessions without being led +to inquire by what right they possess them. They came there as +traders, bartering the commodities they brought for others which their +purchasers could spare; and however great their profits were, they were +then equitable. But what title have the subjects of another kingdom +to establish an empire in India? to give laws to a country where the +inhabitants received them on the terms of friendly commerce? You +say they are happier under our regulations than the tyranny of their +own petty princes. I must doubt it, from the conduct of those +by whom these regulations have been made. They have drained the +treasuries of Nabobs, who must fill them by oppressing the industry +of their subjects. Nor is this to be wondered at, when we consider +the motive upon which those gentlemen do not deny their going to India. +The fame of conquest, barbarous as that motive is, is but a secondary +consideration: there are certain stations in wealth to which the warriors +of the East aspire. It is there, indeed, where the wishes of their +friends assign them eminence, where the question of their country is +pointed at their return. When shall I see a commander return from +India in the pride of honourable poverty? You describe the victories +they have gained; they are sullied by the cause in which they fought: +you enumerate the spoils of those victories; they are covered with the +blood of the vanquished.<br> +<br> +“Could you tell me of some conqueror giving peace and happiness +to the conquered? did he accept the gifts of their princes to use them +for the comfort of those whose fathers, sons, or husbands, fell in battle? +did he use his power to gain security and freedom to the regions of +oppression and slavery? did he endear the British name by examples of +generosity, which the most barbarous or most depraved are rarely able +to resist? did he return with the consciousness of duty discharged to +his country, and humanity to his fellow-creatures? did he return with +no lace on his coat, no slaves in his retinue, no chariot at his door, +and no burgundy at his table? - these were laurels which princes might +envy - which an honest man would not condemn!”<br> +<br> +“Your maxims, Mr. Harley, are certainly right,” said Edwards. +“I am not capable of arguing with you; but I imagine there are +great temptations in a great degree of riches, which it is no easy matter +to resist: those a poor man like me cannot describe, because he never +knew them; and perhaps I have reason to bless God that I never did; +for then, it is likely, I should have withstood them no better than +my neighbours. For you know, sir, that it is not the fashion now, +as it was in former times, that I have read of in books, when your great +generals died so poor, that they did not leave wherewithal to buy them +a coffin; and people thought the better of their memories for it: if +they did so now-a-days, I question if any body, except yourself, and +some few like you, would thank them.”<br> +<br> +“I am sorry,” replied Harley, “that there is so much +truth in what you say; but however the general current of opinion may +point, the feelings are not yet lost that applaud benevolence, and censure +inhumanity. Let us endeavour to strengthen them in ourselves; +and we, who live sequestered from the noise of the multitude, have better +opportunities of listening undisturbed to their voice.”<br> +<br> +They now approached the little dwelling of Edwards. A maid-servant, +whom he had hired to assist him in the care of his grandchildren met +them a little way from the house: “There is a young lady within +with the children,” said she. Edwards expressed his surprise +at the visit: it was however not the less true; and we mean to account +for it.<br> +<br> +This young lady then was no other than Miss Walton. She had heard +the old man’s history from Harley, as we have already related +it. Curiosity, or some other motive, made her desirous to see +his grandchildren; this she had an opportunity of gratifying soon, the +children, in some of their walks, having strolled as far as her father’s +avenue. She put several questions to both; she was delighted with +the simplicity of their answers, and promised, that if they continued +to be good children, and do as their grandfather bid them, she would +soon see them again, and bring some present or other for their reward. +This promise she had performed now: she came attended only by her maid, +and brought with her a complete suit of green for the boy, and a chintz +gown, a cap, and a suit of ribbons, for his sister. She had time +enough, with her maid’s assistance, to equip them in their new +habiliments before Harley and Edwards returned. The boy heard +his grandfather’s voice, and, with that silent joy which his present +finery inspired, ran to the door to meet him: putting one hand in his, +with the other pointed to his sister, “See,” said he, “what +Miss Walton has brought us!” - Edwards gazed on them. Harley +fixed his eyes on Miss Walton; her’s were turned to the ground; +- in Edwards’s was a beamy moisture. - He folded his hands together +- “I cannot speak, young lady,” said he, “to thank +you.” Neither could Harley. There were a thousand +sentiments; but they gushed so impetuously on his heart, that he could +not utter a syllable. * * * *<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +CHAPTER XL - THE MAN OF FEELING JEALOUS<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +The desire of communicating knowledge or intelligence, is an argument +with those who hold that man is naturally a social animal. It +is indeed one of the earliest propensities we discover; but it may be +doubted whether the pleasure (for pleasure there certainly is) arising +from it be not often more selfish than social: for we frequently observe +the tidings of Ill communicated as eagerly as the annunciation of Good. +Is it that we delight in observing the effects of the stronger passions? +for we are all philosophers in this respect; and it is perhaps amongst +the spectators at Tyburn that the most genuine are to be found.<br> +<br> +Was it from this motive that Peter came one morning into his master’s +room with a meaning face of recital? His master indeed did not +at first observe it; for he was sitting with one shoe buckled, delineating +portraits in the fire. “I have brushed those clothes, sir, +as you ordered me.” - Harley nodded his head but Peter observed +that his hat wanted brushing too: his master nodded again. At +last Peter bethought him that the fire needed stirring; and taking up +the poker, demolished the turban’d head of a Saracen, while his +master was seeking out a body for it. “The morning is main +cold, sir,” said Peter. “Is it?” said Harley. +“Yes, sir; I have been as far as Tom Dowson’s to fetch some +barberries he had picked for Mrs. Margery. There was a rare junketting +last night at Thomas’s among Sir Harry Benson’s servants; +he lay at Squire Walton’s, but he would not suffer his servants +to trouble the family: so, to be sure, they were all at Tom’s, +and had a fiddle, and a hot supper in the big room where the justices +meet about the destroying of hares and partridges, and them things; +and Tom’s eyes looked so red and so bleared when I called him +to get the barberries:- And I hear as how Sir Harry is going to be married +to Miss Walton.” - “How! Miss Walton married!” +said Harley. “Why, it mayn’t be true, sir, for all +that; but Tom’s wife told it me, and to be sure the servants told +her, and their master told them, as I guess, sir; but it mayn’t +be true for all that, as I said before.” - “Have done with +your idle information,” said Harley:- “Is my aunt come down +into the parlour to breakfast?” - “Yes, sir.” - “Tell +her I’ll be with her immediately.”<br> +<br> +When Peter was gone, he stood with his eyes fixed on the ground, and +the last words of his intelligence vibrating in his ears. “Miss +Walton married!” he sighed - and walked down stairs, with his +shoe as it was, and the buckle in his hand. His aunt, however, +was pretty well accustomed to those appearances of absence; besides, +that the natural gravity of her temper, which was commonly called into +exertion by the care of her household concerns, was such as not easily +to be discomposed by any circumstance of accidental impropriety. +She too had been informed of the intended match between Sir Harry Benson +and Miss Walton. “I have been thinking,” said she, +“that they are distant relations: for the great-grandfather of +this Sir Harry Benson, who was knight of the shire in the reign of Charles +the First, and one of the cavaliers of those times, was married to a +daughter of the Walton family.” Harley answered drily, that +it might be so; but that he never troubled himself about those matters. +“Indeed,” said she, “you are to blame, nephew, for +not knowing a little more of them: before I was near your age I had +sewed the pedigree of our family in a set of chair-bottoms, that were +made a present of to my grandmother, who was a very notable woman, and +had a proper regard for gentility, I’ll assure you; but now-a-days +it is money, not birth, that makes people respected; the more shame +for the times.”<br> +<br> +Harley was in no very good humour for entering into a discussion of +this question; but he always entertained so much filial respect for +his aunt, as to attend to her discourse.<br> +<br> +“We blame the pride of the rich,” said he, “but are +not we ashamed of our poverty?”<br> +<br> +“Why, one would not choose,” replied his aunt, “to +make a much worse figure than one’s neighbours; but, as I was +saying before, the times (as my friend, Mrs. Dorothy Walton, observes) +are shamefully degenerated in this respect. There was but t’other +day at Mr. Walton’s, that fat fellow’s daughter, the London +merchant, as he calls himself, though I have heard that he was little +better than the keeper of a chandler’s shop. We were leaving +the gentlemen to go to tea. She had a hoop, forsooth, as large +and as stiff - and it showed a pair of bandy legs, as thick as two - +I was nearer the door by an apron’s length, and the pert hussy +brushed by me, as who should say, Make way for your betters, and with +one of her London bobs - but Mrs. Dorothy did not let her pass with +it; for all the time of drinking tea, she spoke of the precedency of +family, and the disparity there is between people who are come of something +and your mushroom gentry who wear their coats of arms in their purses.”<br> +<br> +Her indignation was interrupted by the arrival of her maid with a damask +table-cloth, and a set of napkins, from the loom, which had been spun +by her mistress’s own hand. There was the family crest in +each corner, and in the middle a view of the battle of Worcester, where +one of her ancestors had been a captain in the king’s forces; +and with a sort of poetical licence in perspective, there was seen the +Royal Oak, with more wig than leaves upon it.<br> +<br> +On all this the good lady was very copious, and took up the remaining +intervals of filling tea, to describe its excellencies to Harley; adding, +that she intended this as a present for his wife, when he should get +one. He sighed and looked foolish, and commending the serenity +of the day, walked out into the garden.<br> +<br> +He sat down on a little seat which commanded an extensive prospect round +the house. He leaned on his hand, and scored the ground with his +stick: ‘Miss Walton married!’ said he; but what is that +to me? May she be happy! her virtues deserve it; to me her marriage +is otherwise indifferent: I had romantic dreams? they are fled? - it +is perfectly indifferent.”<br> +<br> +Just at that moment he saw a servant with a knot of ribbons in his hat +go into the house. His cheeks grew flushed at the sight! +He kept his eye fixed for some time on the door by which he had entered, +then starting to his feet, hastily followed him.<br> +<br> +When he approached the door of the kitchen where he supposed the man +had entered, his heart throbbed so violently, that when he would have +called Peter, his voice failed in the attempt. He stood a moment +listening in this breathless state of palpitation: Peter came out by +chance. “Did your honour want any thing?” - “Where +is the servant that came just now from Mr. Walton’s?”<br> +<br> +“From Mr. Walton’s, sir! there is none of his servants here +that I know of.” - “Nor of Sir Harry Benson’s?” +- He did not wait for an answer; but having by this time observed the +hat with its parti-coloured ornament hanging on a peg near the door, +he pressed forwards into the kitchen, and addressing himself to a stranger +whom he saw there, asked him, with no small tremor in his voice, “If +he had any commands for him?” The man looked silly, and +said, “That he had nothing to trouble his honour with.” +- “Are not you a servant of Sir Harry Benson’s?” - +“No, sir.” - “You’ll<i> </i>pardon me, young +man; I judged by the favour in your hat.” - “Sir, I’m +his majesty’s servant, God bless him! and these favours we always +wear when we are recruiting.” - “Recruiting!” his +eyes glistened at the word: he seized the soldier’s hand, and +shaking it violently, ordered Peter to fetch a bottle of his aunt’s +best dram. The bottle was brought: “You shall drink the +king’s health,” said Harley, “in a bumper.” +- “The king and your honour.” - “Nay, you shall drink +the king’s health by itself; you may drink mine in another.” +Peter looked in his master’s face, and filled with some little +reluctance. “Now to your mistress,” said Harley; “every +soldier has a mistress.” The man excused himself - “To +your mistress! you cannot refuse it.” ’Twas Mrs. Margery’s +best dram! Peter stood with the bottle a little inclined, but +not so as to discharge a drop of its contents: “Fill it, Peter,” +said his master, “fill it to the brim.” Peter filled +it; and the soldier having named Suky Simpson, dispatched it in a twinkling. +“Thou art an honest fellow,” said Harley, “and I love +thee;” and shaking his hand again, desired Peter to make him his +guest at dinner, and walked up into his room with a pace much quicker +and more springy than usual.<br> +<br> +This agreeable disappointment, however, he was not long suffered to +enjoy. The curate happened that day to dine with him: his visits, +indeed, were more properly to the aunt than the nephew; and many of +the intelligent ladies in the parish, who, like some very great philosophers, +have the happy knack at accounting for everything, gave out that there +was a particular attachment between them, which wanted only to be matured +by some more years of courtship to end in the tenderest connection. +In this conclusion, indeed, supposing the premises to have been true, +they were somewhat justified by the known opinion of the lady, who frequently +declared herself a friend to the ceremonial of former times, when a +lover might have sighed seven years at his mistress’s feet before +he was allowed the liberty of kissing her hand. ’Tis true +Mrs. Margery was now about her grand climacteric; no matter: that is +just the age when we expect to grow younger. But I verily believe +there was nothing in the report; the curate’s connection was only +that of a genealogist; for in that character he was no way inferior +to Mrs. Margery herself. He dealt also in the present times; for +he was a politician and a news-monger.<br> +<br> +He had hardly said grace after dinner, when he told Mrs. Margery that +she might soon expect a pair of white gloves, as Sir Harry Benson, he +was very well informed, was just going to be married to Miss Walton. +Harley spilt the wine he was carrying to his mouth: he had time, however, +to recollect himself before the curate had finished the different particulars +of his intelligence, and summing up all the heroism he was master of, +filled a bumper, and drank to Miss Walton. “With all my +heart,” said the curate, “the bride that is to be.” +Harley would have said bride too; but the word bride stuck in his throat. +His confusion, indeed, was manifest; but the curate began to enter on +some point of descent with Mrs. Margery, and Harley had very soon after +an opportunity of leaving them, while they were deeply engaged in a +question, whether the name of some great man in the time of Henry the +Seventh was Richard or Humphrey.<br> +<br> +He did not see his aunt again till supper; the time between he spent +in walking, like some troubled ghost, round the place where his treasure +lay. He went as far as a little gate, that led into a copse near +Mr. Walton’s house, to which that gentleman had been so obliging +as to let him have a key. He had just begun to open it when he +saw, on a terrace below, Miss Walton walking with a gentleman in a riding-dress, +whom he immediately guessed to be Sir Harry Benson. He stopped +of a sudden; his hand shook so much that he could hardly turn the key; +he opened the gate, however, and advanced a few paces. The lady’s +lap-dog pricked up its ears, and barked; he stopped again -<br> +<br> +<br> +- “The little dogs and all,<br> +Tray, Blanch, and Sweetheart, see they bark at me!”<br> +<br> +<br> +His resolution failed; he slunk back, and, locking the gate as softly +as he could, stood on tiptoe looking over the wall till they were gone. +At that instant a shepherd blew his horn: the romantic melancholy of +the sound quite overcame him! - it was the very note that wanted to +be touched - he sighed! he dropped a tear! - and returned.<br> +<br> +At supper his aunt observed that he was graver than usual; but she did +not suspect the cause: indeed, it may seem odd that she was the only +person in the family who had no suspicion of his attachment to Miss +Walton. It was frequently matter of discourse amongst the servants: +perhaps her maiden coldness - but for those things we need not account.<br> +<br> +In a day or two he was so much master of himself as to be able to rhyme +upon the subject. The following pastoral he left, some time after, +on the handle of a tea-kettle, at a neighbouring house where we were +visiting; and as I filled the tea-pot after him, I happened to put it +in my pocket by a similar act of forgetfulness. It is such as +might be expected from a man who makes verses for amusement. I +am pleased with somewhat of good nature that runs through it, because +I have commonly observed the writers of those complaints to bestow epithets +on their lost mistresses rather too harsh for the mere liberty of choice, +which led them to prefer another to the poet himself: I do not doubt +the vehemence of their passion; but, alas! the sensations of love are +something more than the returns of gratitude.<br> +<br> +<br> +LAVINIA.<br> +A PASTORAL.<br> +<br> +Why steals from my bosom the sigh?<br> + Why fixed is my gaze on the ground?<br> +Come, give me my pipe, and I’ll try<br> + To banish my cares with the sound.<br> +<br> +Erewhile were its notes of accord<br> + With the smile of the flow’r-footed Muse;<br> +Ah! why by its master implored<br> + Shou’d it now the gay carrol refuse?<br> +<br> +’Twas taught by LAVINIA’S sweet smile,<br> + In the mirth-loving chorus to join:<br> +Ah, me! how unweeting the while!<br> + LAVINIA - can never be mine!<br> +<br> +Another, more happy, the maid<br> + By fortune is destin’d to bless -<br> +’Tho’ the hope has forsook that betray’d,<br> + Yet why should I love her the less?<br> +<br> +Her beauties are bright as the morn,<br> + With rapture I counted them o’er;<br> +Such virtues these beauties adorn,<br> + I knew her, and prais’d them no more.<br> +<br> +I term’d her no goddess of love,<br> + I call’d not her beauty divine:<br> +These far other passions may prove,<br> + But they could not be figures of mine.<br> +<br> +It ne’er was apparel’d with art,<br> + On words it could never rely;<br> +It reign’d in the throb of my heart,<br> + It gleam’d in the glance of my eye.<br> +<br> +Oh fool! in the circle to shine<br> + That Fashion’s gay daughters approve,<br> +You must speak as the fashions incline;<br> + Alas! are there fashions in love?<br> +<br> +Yet sure they are simple who prize<br> + The tongue that is smooth to deceive;<br> +Yet sure she had sense to despise,<br> + The tinsel that folly may weave.<br> +<br> +When I talk’d, I have seen her recline,<br> + With an aspect so pensively sweet, -<br> +Tho’ I spoke what the shepherds opine,<br> + A fop were ashamed to repeat.<br> +<br> +She is soft as the dew-drops that fall<br> + From the lip of the sweet-scented pea;<br> +Perhaps when she smil’d upon all,<br> + I have thought that she smil’d upon me.<br> +<br> +But why of her charms should I tell?<br> + Ah me! whom her charms have undone<br> +Yet I love the reflection too well,<br> + The painful reflection to shun.<br> +<br> +Ye souls of more delicate kind,<br> + Who feast not on pleasure alone,<br> +Who wear the soft sense of the mind,<br> + To the sons of the world still unknown.<br> +<br> +Ye know, tho’ I cannot express,<br> + Why I foolishly doat on my pain;<br> +Nor will ye believe it the less,<br> + That I have not the skill to complain.<br> +<br> +I lean on my hand with a sigh,<br> + My friends the soft sadness condemn;<br> +Yet, methinks, tho’ I cannot tell why,<br> + I should hate to be merry like them.<br> +<br> +When I walk’d in the pride of the dawn,<br> + Methought all the region look’d bright:<br> +Has sweetness forsaken the lawn?<br> + For, methinks, I grow sad at the sight.<br> +<br> +When I stood by the stream, I have thought<br> + There was mirth in the gurgling soft sound;<br> +But now ’tis a sorrowful note,<br> + And the banks are all gloomy around!<br> +<br> +I have laugh’d at the jest of a friend;<br> + Now they laugh, and I know not the cause,<br> +Tho’ I seem with my looks to attend,<br> + How silly! I ask what it was.<br> +<br> +They sing the sweet song of the May,<br> + They sing it with mirth and with glee;<br> +Sure I once thought the sonnet was gay,<br> + But now ’tis all sadness to me.<br> +<br> +Oh! give me the dubious light<br> + That gleams thro’ the quivering shade;<br> +Oh! give me the horrors of night,<br> + By gloom and by silence array’d!<br> +<br> +Let me walk where the soft-rising wave,<br> + Has pictur’d the moon on its breast;<br> +Let me walk where the new cover’d grave<br> + Allows the pale lover to rest!<br> +<br> +When shall I in its peaceable womb,<br> + Be laid with my sorrows asleep?<br> +Should LAVINIA but chance on my tomb -<br> + I could die if I thought she would weep.<br> +<br> +Perhaps, if the souls of the just<br> + Revisit these mansions of care,<br> +It may be my favourite trust<br> + To watch o’er the fate of the fair.<br> +<br> +Perhaps the soft thought of her breast,<br> + With rapture more favour’d to warm;<br> +Perhaps, if with sorrow oppress’d,<br> + Her sorrow with patience to arm.<br> +<br> +Then, then, in the tenderest part<br> + May I whisper, “Poor COLIN was true,”<br> +And mark if a heave of her heart<br> + The thought of her COLIN pursue.<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +THE PUPIL - A FRAGMENT<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +* * * “But as to the higher part of education, Mr. Harley, the +culture of the mind - let the feelings be awakened, let the heart be +brought forth to its object, placed in the light in which nature would +have it stand, and its decisions will ever be just. The world<br> +<br> +<br> +Will smile, and smile, and be a villain;<br> +<br> +<br> +and the youth, who does not suspect its deceit, will be content to smile +with it. Men will put on the most forbidding aspect in nature, +and tell him of the beauty of virtue.<br> +<br> +“I have not, under these grey hairs, forgotten that I was once +a young man, warm in the pursuit of pleasure, but meaning to be honest +as well as happy. I had ideas of virtue, of honour, of benevolence, +which I had never been at the pains to define; but I felt my bosom heave +at the thoughts of them, and I made the most delightful soliloquies. +It is impossible, said I, that there can be half so many rogues as are +imagined.<br> +<br> +“I travelled, because it is the fashion for young men of my fortune +to travel. I had a travelling tutor, which is the fashion too; +but my tutor was a gentleman, which it is not always the fashion for +tutors to be. His gentility, indeed, was all he had from his father, +whose prodigality had not left him a shilling to support it.<br> +<br> +“‘I have a favour to ask of you, my dear Mountford,’ +said my father, ‘which I will not be refused. You have travelled +as became a man; neither France nor Italy have made anything of Mountford, +which Mountford, before he left England, would have been ashamed of. +My son Edward goes abroad, would you take him under your protection?’<br> +<br> +“He blushed; my father’s face was scarlet. He pressed +his hand to his bosom, as if he had said, my heart does not mean to +offend you. Mountford sighed twice.<br> +<br> +“‘I am a proud fool,’ said he, ‘and you will +pardon it. There! (he sighed again) I can hear of dependance, +since it is dependance on my Sedley.’<br> +<br> +“‘Dependance!’ answered my father; ‘there can +be no such word between us. What is there in £9,000 a year +that should make me unworthy of Mountford’s friendship?’<br> +<br> +“They embraced; and soon after I set out on my travels, with Mountford +for my guardian.<br> +<br> +“We were at Milan, where my father happened to have an Italian +friend, to whom he had been of some service in England. The count, +for he was of quality, was solicitous to return the obligation by a +particular attention to his son. We lived in his palace, visited +with his family, were caressed by his friends, and I began to be so +well pleased with my entertainment, that I thought of England as of +some foreign country.<br> +<br> +“The count had a son not much older than myself. At that +age a friend is an easy acquisition; we were friends the first night +of our acquaintance.<br> +<br> +“He introduced me into the company of a set of young gentlemen, +whose fortunes gave them the command of pleasure, and whose inclinations +incited them to the purchase. After having spent some joyous evenings +in their society, it became a sort of habit which I could not miss without +uneasiness, and our meetings, which before were frequent, were now stated +and regular.<br> +<br> +“Sometimes, in the pauses of our mirth, gaming was introduced +as an amusement. It was an art in which I was a novice. +I received instruction, as other novices do, by losing pretty largely +to my teachers. Nor was this the only evil which Mountford foresaw +would arise from the connection I had formed; but a lecture of sour +injunctions was not his method of reclaiming. He sometimes asked +me questions about the company, but they were such as the curiosity +of any indifferent man might have prompted. I told him of their +wit, their eloquence, their warmth of friendship, and their sensibility +of heart. ‘And their honour,’ said I, laying my hand +on my breast, ‘is unquestionable.’ Mountford seemed +to rejoice at my good fortune, and begged that I would introduce him +to their acquaintance. At the next meeting I introduced him accordingly.<br> +<br> +“The conversation was as animated as usual. They displayed +all that sprightliness and good-humour which my praises had led Mountford +to expect; subjects, too, of sentiment occurred, and their speeches, +particularly those of our friend the son of Count Respino, glowed with +the warmth of honour, and softened into the tenderness of feeling. +Mountford was charmed with his companions. When we parted, he +made the highest eulogiums upon them. ‘When shall we see +them again?’ said he. I was delighted with the demand, and +promised to reconduct him on the morrow.<br> +<br> +“In going to their place of rendezvous, he took me a little out +of the road, to see, as he told me, the performances of a young statuary. +When we were near the house in which Mountford said he lived, a boy +of about seven years old crossed us in the street. At sight of +Mountford he stopped, and grasping his hand,<br> +<br> +“‘My dearest sir,’ said he, ‘my father is likely +to do well. He will live to pray for you, and to bless you. +Yes, he will bless you, though you are an Englishman, and some other +hard word that the monk talked of this morning, which I have forgot, +but it meant that you should not go to heaven; but he shall go to heaven, +said I, for he has saved my father. Come and see him, sir, that +we may be happy.’<br> +<br> +“‘My dear, I am engaged at present with this gentleman.’<br> +<br> +“‘But he shall come along with you; he is an Englishman, +too, I fancy. He shall come and learn how an Englishman may go +to heaven.’<br> +<br> +“Mountford smiled, and we followed the boy together.<br> +<br> +“After crossing the next street, we arrived at the gate of a prison. +I seemed surprised at the sight; our little conductor observed it.<br> +<br> +“‘Are you afraid, sir?’ said he. ‘I was +afraid once too, but my father and mother are here, and I am never afraid +when I am with them.’<br> +<br> +“He took my hand, and led me through a dark passage that fronted +the gate. When we came to a little door at the end, he tapped. +A boy, still younger than himself, opened it to receive us. Mountford +entered with a look in which was pictured the benign assurance of a +superior being. I followed in silence and amazement.<br> +<br> +“On something like a bed, lay a man, with a face seemingly emaciated +with sickness, and a look of patient dejection. A bundle of dirty +shreds served him for a pillow, but he had a better support - the arm +of a female who kneeled beside him, beautiful as an angel, but with +a fading languor in her countenance, the still life of melancholy, that +seemed to borrow its shade from the object on which she gazed. +There was a tear in her eye - the sick man kissed it off in its bud, +smiling through the dimness of his own - when she saw Mountford, she +crawled forward on the ground, and clasped his knees. He raised +her from the floor; she threw her arms round his neck, and sobbed out +a speech of thankfulness, eloquent beyond the power of language.<br> +<br> +“‘Compose yourself, my love,’ said the man on the +bed; ‘but he, whose goodness has caused that emotion, will pardon +its effects.’<br> +<br> +“‘How is this, Mountford?’ said I; ‘what do +I see? What must I do?’<br> +<br> +“‘You see,’ replied the stranger, ‘a wretch, +sunk in poverty, starving in prison, stretched on a sick bed. +But that is little. There are his wife and children wanting the +bread which he has not to give them! Yet you cannot easily imagine +the conscious serenity of his mind. In the gripe of affliction, +his heart swells with the pride of virtue; it can even look down with +pity on the man whose cruelty has wrung it almost to bursting. +You are, I fancy, a friend of Mr. Mountford’s. Come nearer, +and I’ll tell you, for, short as my story is, I can hardly command +breath enough for a recital. The son of Count Respino (I started, +as if I had trod on a viper) has long had a criminal passion for my +wife. This her prudence had concealed from me; but he had lately +the boldness to declare it to myself. He promised me affluence +in exchange for honour, and threatened misery as its attendant if I +kept it. I treated him with the contempt he deserved; the consequence +was, that he hired a couple of bravoes (for I am persuaded they acted +under his direction), who attempted to assassinate me in the street; +but I made such a defence as obliged them to fly, after having given +me two or three stabs, none of which, however, were mortal. But +his revenge was not thus to be disappointed. In the little dealings +of my trade I had contracted some debts, of which he had made himself +master for my ruin. I was confined here at his suit, when not +yet recovered from the wounds I had received; the dear woman, and these +two boys, followed me, that we might starve together; but Providence +interposed, and sent Mr. Mountford to our support. He has relieved +my family from the gnawings of hunger, and rescued me from death, to +which a fever, consequent on my wounds and increased by the want of +every necessary, had almost reduced me.’<br> +<br> +“‘Inhuman villain!’ I exclaimed, lifting up my eyes +to heaven.<br> +<br> +“‘Inhuman indeed!’ said the lovely woman who stood +at my side. ‘Alas! sir, what had we done to offend him? +what had these little ones done, that they should perish in the toils +of his vengeance?’<br> +<br> +“I reached a pen which stood in the inkstand dish at the bed-side.<br> +<br> +“‘May I ask what is the amount of the sum for which you +are imprisoned?’<br> +<br> +“‘I was able,’ he replied, ‘to pay all but five +hundred crowns.’<br> +<br> +“I wrote a draft on the banker with whom I had a credit from my +father for 2,500, and presenting it to the stranger’s wife,<br> +<br> +“‘You will receive, madam, on presenting this note, a sum +more than sufficient for your husband’s discharge; the remainder +I leave for his industry to improve.’<br> +<br> +“I would have left the room. Each of them laid hold of one +of my hands, the children clung to my coat. Oh! Mr. Harley, methinks +I feel their gentle violence at this moment; it beats here with delight +inexpressible.<br> +<br> +“‘Stay, sir,’ said he, ‘I do not mean attempting +to thank you’ (he took a pocket-book from under his pillow), ‘let +me but know what name I shall place here next to Mr. Mountford!’<br> +<br> +“‘Sedley.’<br> +<br> +“He writ it down.<br> +<br> +“‘An Englishman too, I presume.’<br> +<br> +“‘He shall go to heaven, notwithstanding;’ said the +boy who had been our guide.<br> +<br> +“It began to be too much for me. I squeezed his hand that +was clasped in mine, his wife’s I pressed to my lips, and burst +from the place, to give vent to the feelings that laboured within me.<br> +<br> +“‘Oh, Mountford!’ said I, when he had overtaken me +at the door.<br> +<br> +“‘It is time,’ replied he, ‘that we should think +of our appointment; young Respino and his friends are waiting us.’<br> +<br> +“‘Damn him, damn him!’ said I. ‘Let us +leave Milan instantly; but soft - I will be calm; Mountford, your pencil.’ +I wrote on a slip of paper,<br> +<br> +<br> +“‘To Signor RESPINO.<br> +<br> +“‘When you receive this, I am at a distance from Milan. +Accept of my thanks for the civilities I have received from you and +your family. As to the friendship with which you were pleased +to honour me, the prison, which I have just left, has exhibited a scene +to cancel it for ever. You may possibly be merry with your companions +at my weakness, as I suppose you will term it. I give you leave +for derision. You may affect a triumph, I shall feel it.<br> +<br> +“EDWARD SEDLEY.”<br> +<br> +<br> +“‘You may send this if you will,’ said Mountford, +coolly, ‘but still Respino is a <i>man of honour; </i>the world +will continue to call him so.’<br> +<br> +“‘It is probable,’ I answered, ‘they may; I +envy not the appellation. If this is the world’s honour, +if these men are the guides of its manners - ’<br> +<br> +“‘Tut!’ said Mountford, ‘do you eat macaroni +- ’”<br> +<br> +* * *<br> +<br> +[At this place had the greatest depredations of the curate begun. +There were so very few connected passages of the subsequent chapters +remaining, that even the partiality of an editor could not offer them +to the public. I discovered, from some scattered sentences, that +they were of much the same tenor with the preceding; recitals of little +adventures, in which the dispositions of a man, sensible to judge, and +still more warm to feel, had room to unfold themselves. Some instruction, +and some example, I make no doubt they contained; but it is likely that +many of those, whom chance has led to a perusal of what I have already +presented, may have read it with little pleasure, and will feel no disappointment +from the want of those parts which I have been unable to procure. +To such as may have expected the intricacies of a novel, a few incidents +in a life undistinguished, except by some features of the heart, cannot +have afforded much entertainment.<br> +<br> +Harley’s own story, from the mutilated passages I have mentioned, +as well as from some inquiries I was at the trouble of making in the +country, I found to have been simple to excess. His mistress, +I could perceive, was not married to Sir Harry Benson; but it would +seem, by one of the following chapters, which is still entire, that +Harley had not profited on the occasion by making any declaration of +his own passion, after those of the other had been unsuccessful. +The state of his health, for some part of this period, appears to have +been such as to forbid any thoughts of that kind: he had been seized +with a very dangerous fever, caught by attending old Edwards in one +of an infectious kind. From this he had recovered but imperfectly, +and though he had no formed complaint, his health was manifestly on +the decline.<br> +<br> +It appears that the sagacity of some friend had at length pointed out +to his aunt a cause from which this might be supposed to proceed, to +wit, his hopeless love for Miss Walton; for, according to the conceptions +of the world, the love of a man of Harley’s fortune for the heiress +of £4,000 a year is indeed desperate. Whether it was so +in this case may be gathered from the next chapter, which, with the +two subsequent, concluding the performance, have escaped those accidents +that proved fatal to the rest.]<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +CHAPTER LV - HE SEES MISS WALTON, AND IS HAPPY<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +Harley was one of those few friends whom the malevolence of fortune +had yet left me; I could not therefore but be sensibly concerned for +his present indisposition; there seldom passed a day on which I did +not make inquiry about him.<br> +<br> +The physician who attended him had informed me the evening before, that +he thought him considerably better than he had been for some time past. +I called next morning to be confirmed in a piece of intelligence so +welcome to me.<br> +<br> +When I entered his apartment, I found him sitting on a couch, leaning +on his hand, with his eye turned upwards in the attitude of thoughtful +inspiration. His look had always an open benignity, which commanded +esteem; there was now something more - a gentle triumph in it.<br> +<br> +He rose, and met me with his usual kindness. When I gave him the +good accounts I had had from his physician, “I am foolish enough,” +said he, “to rely but little, in this instance, upon physic: my +presentiment may be false; but I think I feel myself approaching to +my end, by steps so easy, that they woo me to approach it.<br> +<br> +“There is a certain dignity in retiring from life at a time, when +the infirmities of age have not sapped our faculties. This world, +my dear Charles, was a scene in which I never much delighted. +I was not formed for the bustle of the busy, nor the dissipation of +the gay; a thousand things occurred, where I blushed for the impropriety +of my conduct when I thought on the world, though my reason told me +I should have blushed to have done otherwise. - It was a scene of dissimulation, +of restraint, of disappointment. I leave it to enter on that state +which I have learned to believe is replete with the genuine happiness +attendant upon virtue. I look back on the tenor of my life, with +the consciousness of few great offences to account for. There +are blemishes, I confess, which deform in some degree the picture. +But I know the benignity of the Supreme Being, and rejoice at the thoughts +of its exertion in my favour. My mind expands at the thought I +shall enter into the society of the blessed, wise as angels, with the +simplicity of children.” He had by this time clasped my +hand, and found it wet by a tear which had just fallen upon it. - His +eye began to moisten too - we sat for some time silent. - At last, with +an attempt to a look of more composure, “There are some remembrances,” +said Harley, “which rise involuntary on my heart, and make me +almost wish to live. I have been blessed with a few friends, who +redeem my opinion of mankind. I recollect, with the tenderest +emotion, the scenes of pleasure I have passed among them; but we shall +meet again, my friend, never to be separated. There are some feelings +which perhaps are too tender to be suffered by the world. - The world +is in general selfish, interested, and unthinking, and throws the imputation +of romance or melancholy on every temper more susceptible than its own. +I cannot think but in those regions which I contemplate, if there is +any thing of mortality left about us, that these feelings will subsist; +- they are called, - perhaps they are - weaknesses here; - but there +may be some better modifications of them in heaven, which may deserve +the name of virtues.” He sighed as he spoke these last words. +He had scarcely finished them, when the door opened, and his aunt appeared, +leading in Miss Walton. “My dear,” said she, “here +is Miss Walton, who has been so kind as to come and inquire for you +herself.” I could observe a transient glow upon his face. +He rose from his seat - “If to know Miss Walton’s goodness,” +said he, “be a title to deserve it, I have some claim.” +She begged him to resume his seat, and placed herself on the sofa beside +him. I took my leave. Mrs. Margery accompanied me to the +door. He was left with Miss Walton alone. She inquired anxiously +about his health. “I believe,” said he, “from +the accounts which my physicians unwillingly give me, that they have +no great hopes of my recovery.” - She started as he spoke; but +recollecting herself immediately, endeavoured to flatter him into a +belief that his apprehensions were groundless. “I know,” +said he, “that it is usual with persons at my time of life to +have these hopes, which your kindness suggests; but I would not wish +to be deceived. To meet death as becomes a man, is a privilege +bestowed on few. - I would endeavour to make it mine; - nor do I think +that I can ever be better prepared for it than now: - It is that chiefly +which determines the fitness of its approach.” “Those +sentiments,” answered Miss Walton, “are just; but your good +sense, Mr. Harley, will own, that life has its proper value. - As the +province of virtue, life is ennobled; as such, it is to be desired. +- To virtue has the Supreme Director of all things assigned rewards +enough even here to fix its attachment.”<br> +<br> +The subject began to overpower her. - Harley lifted his eyes from the +ground - “There are,” said he, in a very low voice, “there +are attachments, Miss Walton” - His glance met hers. - They both +betrayed a confusion, and were both instantly withdrawn. - He paused +some moments - “I am such a state as calls for sincerity, let +that also excuse it - It is perhaps the last time we shall ever meet. +I feel something particularly solemn in the acknowledgment, yet my heart +swells to make it, awed as it is by a sense of my presumption, by a +sense of your perfections” - He paused again - “Let it not +offend you, to know their power over one so unworthy - It will, I believe, +soon cease to beat, even with that feeling which it shall lose the latest. +- To love Miss Walton could not be a crime; - if to declare it is one +- the expiation will be made.” - Her tears were now flowing without +control. - “Let me intreat you,” said she, “to have +better hopes - Let not life be so indifferent to you; if my wishes can +put any value on it - I will not pretend to misunderstand you - I know +your worth - I have known it long - I have esteemed it - What would +you have me say? - I have loved it as it deserved.” - He seized +her hand - a languid colour reddened his cheek - a smile brightened +faintly in his eye. As he gazed on her, it grew dim, it fixed, +it closed - He sighed and fell back on his seat - Miss Walton screamed +at the sight - His aunt and the servants rushed into the room - They +found them lying motionless together. - His physician happened to call +at that instant. Every art was tried to recover them - With Miss +Walton they succeeded - But Harley was gone for ever.<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +CHAPTER LVI - THE EMOTIONS OF THE HEART<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +I entered the room where his body lay; I approached it with reverence, +not fear: I looked; the recollection of the past crowded upon me. +I saw that form which, but a little before, was animated with a soul +which did honour to humanity, stretched without sense or feeling before +me. ’Tis a connection we cannot easily forget:- I took his +hand in mine; I repeated his name involuntary; - I felt a pulse in every +vein at the sound. I looked earnestly in his face; his eye was +closed, his lip pale and motionless. There is an enthusiasm in +sorrow that forgets impossibility; I wondered that it was so. +The sight drew a prayer from my heart: it was the voice of frailty and +of man! the confusion of my mind began to subside into thought; I had +time to meet!<br> +<br> +I turned with the last farewell upon my lips, when I observed old Edwards +standing behind me. I looked him full in the face; but his eye +was fixed on another object: he pressed between me and the bed, and +stood gazing on the breathless remains of his benefactor. I spoke +to him I know not what; but he took no notice of what I said, and remained +in the same attitude as before. He stood some minutes in that +posture, then turned and walked towards the door. He paused as +he went; - he returned a second time: I could observe his lips move +as he looked: but the voice they would have uttered was lost. +He attempted going again; and a third time he returned as before. - +I saw him wipe his cheek: then covering his face with his hands, his +breast heaving with the most convulsive throbs, he flung out of the +room.<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +THE CONCLUSION<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +He had hinted that he should like to be buried in a certain spot near +the grave of his mother. This is a weakness; but it is universally +incident to humanity: ’tis at least a memorial for those who survive: +for some indeed a slender memorial will serve; - and the soft affections, +when they are busy that way, will build their structures, were it but +on the paring of a nail.<br> +<br> +He was buried in the place he had desired. It was shaded by an +old tree, the only one in the church-yard, in which was a cavity worn +by time. I have sat with him in it, and counted the tombs. +The last time we passed there, methought he looked wistfully on the +tree: there was a branch of it that bent towards us waving in the wind; +he waved his hand as if he mimicked its motion. There was something +predictive in his look! perhaps it is foolish to remark it; but there +are times and places when I am a child at those things.<br> +<br> +I sometimes visit his grave; I sit in the hollow of the tree. +It is worth a thousand homilies; every noble feeling rises within me! +every beat of my heart awakens a virtue! - but it will make you hate +the world - No: there is such an air of gentleness around, that I can +hate nothing; but, as to the world - I pity the men of it.<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +Footnotes:<br> +<br> +<a name="footnote16"></a><a href="#citation16">{16}</a> The reader +will remember that the Editor is accountable only for scattered chapters +and fragments of chapters; the curate must answer for the rest. +The number at the top, when the chapter was entire, he has given as +it originally stood, with the title which its author had affixed to +it.<br> +<br> +<a name="footnote61"></a><a href="#citation61">{61}</a> Though +the Curate could not remember having<i> </i>shown this chapter to anybody, +I strongly suspect that these political observations are the work of +a later pen than the rest of this performance. There seems to +have been, by some accident, a gap in the manuscript, from the words, +“Expectation at a jointure,” to these, “In short, +man is an animal,” where the present blank ends; and some other +person (for the hand is different, and the ink whiter) has filled part +of it with sentiments of his own. Whoever he was<i>, </i>he seems +to have caught some portion of the spirit of the man he personates.<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +End of the Project Gutenberg eBook *** Corrected and fully spell-checked +to here ***<br> +<br> +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK, THE MAN OF FEELING ***<br> +<pre> + +******This file should be named mnfl10h.htm or mnfl10h.zip****** +Corrected EDITIONS of our EBooks get a new NUMBER, mnfl11h.htm +VERSIONS based on separate sources get new LETTER, mnfl10ah.htm + +Project Gutenberg eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the US +unless a copyright notice is included. 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