THE
FOOL OF QUALITY
BY
HENRY BROOKE
WITH A BIOGRAPHICAL PREFACE BY
CHARLES KINGSLEY
AND A NEW LIFE OF THE AUTHOR BY
E. A. BAKER, M.A.
LONDON :
:ORGE ROUTLEDGE AND SONS, LIMITED
NEW YORK : E. P. DUTTON & Co.
Printed in Great Britain
INTRODUCTION
ANY further introduction to an author whom Charles
Kingsley ushered in with so eulogistic a preface would
be a work of supererogation, had not the opportunity
arisen of making some additions to the little that is
generally known about Henry Brooke. Kingsley's preface
has been retained in the present edition of The Fool of
Quality, for it is now identified with the book in a way
that few prefaces are at all events, such as are written to
introduce other men's work. It contains the finest portrait
we have of the character of Brooke, a portrait that has the
charm of eloquence and enthusiasm, and displays the in-
sight born of complete and fervent sympathy. Kingsley had
the good luck to find, in a writer who had preceded him by
nearly a century, a man singularly like himself in tempera-
ment, in imagination, in social, ethical, and religious ideas.
No proper biography of Henry Brooke existing for
Kingsley's account is, after all, only a sketch there is
no excuse needed for trying to fill in the outlines with a
few fresh details. For much of the material to be used
for this purpose I am indebted to Mr. Henry Brooke of
Liverpool, a descendant of Robert, the younger brother of
the Counsellor Brooke, as he was familiarly known in his
own day, author of The Fool of Quality. Mr. Brooke has
kindly supplied the appended family tree, which he has
taken considerable pains to verify, and has lent for repro-
duction the life-like monochrome portrait which is included
here. He has also put at my disposal, for the purposes of
this introduction, his interesting collection of Brooke papers
and letters. I am further much indebted for a number of
references and other notes to Mr. Ernest Falser, who has
made a special study of the life and works of the author.
Several of the references to the contemporary press are due
to the researches of Mr. J. K. Bowling.
As the reader who casts an eye over this introduction
will doubtless peruse Kingsley's preface, I will not worry
vi INTRODUCTION
him with repetition, but will refer him to that for a more
connected account of our author. This is, in the main,
but an attempt to fill up some of the lacunae. First let
me deal with Brooke's ancestry, no unimportant matter,
for, as a critic points out, the mingling of Sheridan,
Fitzgerald, and Digby blood with the religious nature of
the Brookes was bound, sooner or later, to produce a man
like Henry Brooke and a book like The Fool of Quality.
Henry Brooke was the second of three sons of the Rev.
William Brooke, and not, as hitherto stated, the elder of
two. The eldest was Digby Brooke, born 1697, in County
Cavan, and educated by his father. He entered Trinity
College, Dublin, in 1714, graduated B.A. in 1719, and
M.A. in 1722. What happened to him afterwards cannot
be traced. It is probable that he died young, as there is
no mention of him either in the old biographies or in the
letters and papers left by his nephews and nieces, who refer
to two brothers only Ht nry, the elder, and Robert. The
father, the Rev. William Brooke, of Rantavan (born 1669,
died 1745), was the eldest of three brothers, sons of
William Brooke, a physician in County Cavan. He was
rector of Moybolgue (now Bailie - borough), Mullagh,
Killinkere, Innismngrath, Kildallon, and Lavey, a very
large area in the same county, and is also stated to have
been chaplain to King William. In a memoir prefixed to
the Reliques of Irish Poetry, by Henry Brooke's daughter,
Charlotte, he is described as 'a person of considerable
talents and amiable worth.' He was a scholar of Trinity
College, and was elected a member of the Convocation
proposed to be held in 1704. At the time of his death
November 10, 1745 a long obituary notice appeared in
George Faulkner's Dublin Journal^ which states that
1 through a residence of fifty years and upwards he was
distinguished for his piety as a clergyman, his justice as
a magistrate, and his benevolence as a man . . . and his
death has deprived us of the only person that would contra-
dict this recital of his virtues.' He married Lettice Digby,
a daughter of Simon Digby, bishop of Elphin, who married
Elizabeth Westenra. The bishop and his wife died in the
same week, and were ' both interred at one time, carry 'd in
one herse, one Funeral Sermon, and in one vault, on the
2oth April, 1722.' Simon Digby is commended as a
miniature painter by Horace Walpole, and it is probably
from the Digby strain, says Mr. Brooke, 'that Henry's
INTRODUCTION vii
brother, Robert, and several generations of the latter's
descendants, derived their artistic skill.' The great-
grandmother of Lettice, Lettice Fitzgerald, who married
Sir Thomas Digby, and later became Baroness of Offaly,
when alone in her castle of Geashill, King's County, in
April, 1642, was besieged by the rebels, and conducted
an heroic defence in person. ' As the baroness was
looking out of a window, a shot happening to strike the
wall beside her, she immediately with her handkerchief
wiped the spot, showing how little she cared for the
attempts of the assailants.' So much for the Digby and
the Geraldine blood. The relationship between the Brookes
and Sheridans rests only on an old family tradition, corro-
borated by a few other circumstances. (See Life of Mrs.
Frances Sheridan, by Miss Le Fanu, p. 108, and Lord
Dufferin's life of his mother in her collected poems.) We
find the younger members of the two families addressing
each other as cousins.
Henry Brooke was born in the house of Rantavan, which
stood on the paternal property, not far from the village of
Virginia, in the county of Cavan. Kingsley gives the date
of his birth as 1 708 ; the writer in the Dublin University
Magazine, the Rev. R. S. Brooke, from whom he borrowed,
as 1706. But we have the register of Matriculation at
Trinity College, Dublin, which runs as follows : " Februarii
die septimi, 1720. Henricus Brook, Pension. Filius
Gulielmi, Clerici, annum agens decimum septimum, natus
in comitate Cavan ; educatus Dublini sub Doctore Jones."
He was born, therefore, in 1703. He was a delicate lad,
and became the special charge of his mother, who early
cultivated in him a love of letters. At the age of seven, he
was able to repeat many fine passages from the English
poets and dramatists. His first schoolmaster was Mr.
Felix Comerford, who, says Mr. C. H. Wilson, author of
the anonymous Brookiana, 'had traversed the lettered shores
of antiquity,' and accordingly l imagined that all knowledge
worthy the pursuit of a rational being was treasured up in
the Greek and Roman tongues,' every other language being
merely a jargon, unfit for anything but to carry on the com-
munication of sordid trade, or the inferior arts of life.
Another writer describes Dominie Felix, who was the
principal schoolmaster in Cavan, as 'priggish, acute,
scholastic, intensely professional; like lago, "nothing if
not critical," pouncing like a hawk on every breach of
viii INTRODUCTION
accidence, and exploding in thunder upon every hapless
perpetrator of a false quantity. Contracted as to general
information, but semper paratus, by pun, quibble, quotation,
or sophism, to make up all deficiencies in learning by ready
rejoinder and mother wit.' He appears to have been a
character worthy of Carleton's pages, and a good-hearted
fellow to boot. When Harry is about to leave him for the
school in Dublin kept by Dr. Sheridan, who, the worthy
man admits, 'in politiori literatura palmam tenet,' he sends
some excellent advice to the father and mother, adding, ' I
plainly see it, that Nature intends that this child should
act some great part on the theatre of human life. Nature,
I say, or rather the God of Nature, has endowed him with
an excellent memory, and the seeds of taste already begin
to peep forth. Young as he is, he is interested in every-
thing that interests man.' ' I was walking with Harry the
other day,' continues Mr. Felix, ' and as we were passing by
an old hedge he pointed to a bush. " If I chose," said he,
11 1 could have caught a thrush on her nest in that bush,
but I would not for the world," added he, " be guilty of
such a cruel act. I was afraid that some of the other boys
would have found it, but luckily, they did not ; so that to
my great joy, the mother and her young have escaped." '
This reminds one strongly of the earlier chapters of The
Fool of Quality^ the autobiographic element of which
should not be lost sight of autobiographic, that is, as an
interpretation of character.
Dr. Thomas Sheridan, ' the Quintilian of his day,' and
the grandfather of Richard Brinsley Sheridan, was a more
remarkable character even than Comerford, and rivalled
Person not only as a classical scholar, but also as a wit and
good liver. Swift and he were at one time close friends.
The Dean was often entertained at Rantavan on his way to
visit Sheridan at Quilca. But Swift presently quarrelled
with his old friend, and, not content with gibing at him
living, assailed him savagely after his death. Young Brooke
was so nettled by a satire that Swift had written on the
home of the Sheridans at Quilca, where he had often
been an honoured guest, that he attempted to retaliate
in kind. A set of verses entitled 'Quilca House to the
Dean,' was fathered on a certain dancing -master, Peter
Murray, who was so pleased with the notoriety they gave
him, that he forthwith provided a continuation from his
own pen. Dr. Johnson said to Sheridan, whom he did
INTRODUCTION ix
not like personally, that he ' wanted neither parts nor
literature, but that his vanity and Quixotism obscured his
merits.' Harry Brooke, the Doctor's favourite pupil, gives a
more generous testimony to his talents and his character.
Several of Harry's cousins were taught by Dr. Sheridan.
The university register already quoted proves that Henry
Brooke went to a third school, about which nothing further
is known. Brookiana preserves many relics of his juvenilia,
prose and verse, none of them in any way remarkable,
except as showing his natural bent for literary composition.
Dr, Sheridan made him an excellent classical scholar, but
the share Dominie Comerford had had in his education
must not be forgctten. It was largely to his mother and
her training that he owed his deep religious fervour, and his
love of civil and religious liberty, both of which were to be
exhibited powerfully in his conduct and his writings, and to
have no small effect upon his fortunes.
Though Henry had been entered as a pensioner at
Trinity College, Dublin, and duly served his terms, he
was not intended by his father to follow his own footsteps
in the Church, but was sent to London in 1724 to read
law. In his short stay at the Temple, he made the
acquaintance of several men of wit and learning, including
Pope and Lord Lyttelton ; Swift he had already met at
Rantavan. The Dean is reported to have said that
Brooke was a ' young man of genius, but he was sorry to
find that genius incline to poetry, which of all other pur-
suits was the most unprofitable.' He treated the young
man with great kindness and indulgence, and was repaid
by sincere admiration for his powers and keen sympathy
with the patriotism displayed in the DrapieSs Letters.
Brooke was suddenly recalled to Ireland by the news that
a beloved aunt was on her death-bed.
He arrived in time to receive the blessing of his relative,
who delivered to his guardianship her daughter, Catherine
Meares, a beautiful girl of twelve. The relationship seems
to have been on his mother's, the Digbys', side. The child
was left with but small provision ; so at his mother's
suggestion, Brooke took her to Dublin, and put her in a
boarding-school. His visits were frequent, and the pair of
children at once fell in love. Catherine's schoolfellows
were not long finding out their secret, and vexed her con-
tinually with their raillery. At length she complained to
her precocious guardian, who proposed an effectual remedy,
x INTRODUCTION
marriage. The clandestine wedding commented upon so
feelingly by Charles Kingsley was the result. A letter of
Catherine's to her nephew, Henry Brooke Junior, gives us
glimpses of a lovable character :
DEAR HARRY, I am very much obliged to you for your pretty
letter, and accept your offer. , You shall now be my gardener, if your
brother will join to help you. I have spades making for you both,
and I will give you what wages you please. I told one of the cows
you were coming, and she was so glad she calved last week, that she
might have milk enough for you ; but I am afraid your young primate
will be too saucy to be a gardener to a poor farm. If so, we want a
parson sadly, and he shall dig all the week, and say prayers for us on a
Sunday. I am, my dear Harry, your most affectionate aunt,
CA. BROOKE.
She was furthermore a woman of piety and good sense,
as may be inferred from a postscript she adds to a letter of
her husband's to Mr. George Howard :
One word more of your gratitude and the man would be angry ; you
know he can be vexed ; so though you have got out of ear-shot, don't
provoke him, for fear I should come in for a share of what you deserve.
I am, I think, just such a busy good-for-nothing as you left me, and
Charlotte is gtown a much better girl, and we all often regret the loss
of our dear Mr. Howard when the toil and business of the day is over.
May the God of love and mercy bless him in all he undertakes ; may
he be a blessing wherever he goes and wherever he stays, is the earnest
prayer of his sincerely affectionate
CA. BROOKE.
We now come to the time when Brooke went back to
London, and began his literary career, a period upon
which our information is, unhappily, very scanty indeed.
In 1728 he wrote his best poem, Universal Beauty, about
which there is no need to add very much to what Kingsley
has said. Though now it possesses merely a historical
interest, for it has suffered the fate of nearly all didactic
poetry, the work has sterling merits as a summary of the
finest thoughts of its time on Nature and the Creator, and
btars ample testimony to Brooke's depth of scholarship.
Its thesis is that the beauty of the universe is the
expression of the Divine order immanent in all creation,
a beauty which
Mimicked in our humbler strains,
Illustrious, thro' the world's great poem reigns.
INTRODUCTION xi
The style shows an attempt to graft Milton's syntax on
Pope's prosody.
Oft where the zenith's lofty realms extend,
E'er mists, conglobing by their weight descend,
With sudden nitre captivates the cloud,
And o'er the vapour throws a whitening shroud ;
Soft, from the concave, hovering fleeces fall,
Whose snaky texture clothes our silver ball.
Or when the shower forsakes the sable skies,
Haply the cold in secret ambush lies,
Couching awaits in some inferior space,
And chills the tempest with a quick embrace ;
The chrystal pellets at the touch congeal,
And from the ground rebounds the rattling hail.
Or constant where this artificer dwells,
And algid from his heights the mist repels,
The ALMIGHTY ALCHYMIST his limbeck rears,
His lordly Taurus, or his Alpine peers ;
Suspending fogs around the summit spread,
And gloomy columns crown each haughty head,
Obstructed drench the constipating hill,
And soaking thro' the porous grit distil :
Collected from a thousand thousand cells
The subterraneous flood impatient swells ;
Whence issuing torrents burst the mountain side,
And hence impetuous pour their headlong tide.
Still central from the wide circumfluous waves
(Whose briny dash each bounded region laves),
The soil, still rising, from the deep retires,
And mediate, to the neighbouring heaven aspires.
Hence, where the spring its surging effluence boils,
The stream ne'er refluent on the fount recoils,
But trips progressive, with descending pace,
And tunes, thro' many a league, its warbling maze ;
Here blended, swells with interfering rills ;
And here the lake's capacious cistern fills ;
Or wanton, here a snaky labyrinth roams ;
Impervious here, with indignation foams ;
Or here with rapture shoots the nether glade,
And whitening silvers in the long cascade.
The theology of the poem, like that of The Fool of Quality,
is strongly impregnated with the doctrines of the mystical
Jacob Boehme. The same is the case with another long
poem, Redemption. These poems appear again in the
collected edition of her father's poetical works made by
Charlotte Brooke in 1778. As much of his poetry as the
ordinary reader will care to examine will be found in
Chalmers's British Poets.
Family affairs, perhaps the needs of his children, who
xii INTRODUCTION
were multiplying rapidly, recalled Brooke to Ireland ; for
seven or eight years he practised in Dublin as a chamber
counsel ; but literary ambition brought him to London
again in 1736. He received a cordial welcome from
Pope and Lyttelton, and was introduced by William Pitt,
afterwards Earl of Chatham, to Frederick, Prince of
Wales, 'who caressed him with great familiarity, and
presented him with many elegant and valuable tokens of
friendship.' l No doubt his engaging character and
demeanour, backed by an attractive person, did more
to win him a social and literary position than his achieve-
ments as an author. Brooke was a good French and
Italian scholar, and about this time brought out a transla-
tion in verse of the first three books of Tasso's Gerusalemme
Liber ata. It was highly praised by Hoole, who stated
that his own translation of the poem would have been
rendered unnecessary had Mr. Brooke turned the whole
into English.
Kingsley has told the story of the production of
Gustavus Vasa, a play described by one of Brooke's
eulogists as ' the foremost production of human powers,' and
of the circumstances that led to its author's final return to
Ireland *. There is little reason for doubting that the cause
of his retirement from the troubled sea of politics in London
was really the one alleged, namely, his wife's excessive fears
lest he should get into trouble through his impassioned
advocacy of the Prince of Wales. The King had now
publicly broken with his son, who withdrew from the Court,
and took the lead of the opposition. Though absent from
his friends, Brooke still kept up an active correspondence.
The Prince honoured him with more than one letter, which
with others from Lord Lyttelton and Chesterfield perished
in a fire. Several letters that passed between him and Pope
have been preserved by the author of Brookiana. Brooke
says many flattering things to the poet, but in a tone of
sincerity that is unmistakable. He quotes a conversation
that he had had with a Mr. Spence, who had asserted that
Pope was the greatest poet that ever lived, an opinion from
which he dissented. * I told him to the purpose that Virgil
gave me equal pleasure, Homer equal warmth, Shakespeare
greater rapture, and Milton more astonishment, so ungrateful
1 A gold seal presented to him by the Prince is still extant.
2 According to an old play-bill, Gustavus Vasa was first acted in
Liverpool, in 1807, by Master Betty, 'the young Roscius.'
INTRODUCTION xiii
was I to refuse you your due praise, when it was not
unknown to me that I got friends and reputation by your
saying things of me which no one would have thought I
merited, had you not said them.' Brooke is particularly
anxious to elicit some decisive expression of his patron's
religious views ; but Pope's replies, for he was at heart a
good Catholic, are "very cautiously worded. ' It is im-
possible,' says Pope, 'I should answer your letter any
further than by a sincere avowal that I do not deserve a
tenth part of what you say of me as a writer ; but as a man
I will not, nay, I ought not, in gratitude to him to whom I
owe whatever I am, and whatever I can confess, to his
glory, I will not say I deny that you think no better of me
than I deserve: I sincerely worship God, believe in his
revelations, resign to his dispensations, love all his creatures,
am in charity with all denominations of Christians, however
violently they treat each other, and detest none so much as
that profligate race who would loosen the bands of morality,
either under the pretence of religion or free-thinking.'
Such views were too broad and liberal, and too non-
committal, to satisfy many people in those days, when,
except where the influence of Methodism had fallen on
fruitful soil, there was more dogmatism than Christianity.
Brooke was, however, one of those who valued religion
more than formalism ; he was never a party man, even on
those matters which stirred his feelings most profoundly.
There is evidence enough of that in his political attitude,
which was so independent that it annoyed Whigs and
Tories, Protestants and Catholics almost equally. His
brother, Robert Brooke, and two of the latter's sons, became
Methodists. Another Henry Brooke, the eldest of the two
nephews of our Henry Brooke, distinguished himself by his
fervent piety. In his life, compiled by Dr. Isaac d'Olier,
there is a full account of his spiritual history, and of his
correspondence with the Rev. John William de la Fle'chere,
or Fletcher, Vicar of Madeley, the friend of Wesley, and one
of the most devout and earnest workers in the Methodist
cause. This Henry Brooke Junior was himself an active
labourer in the same field : several hymns and meditations
composed by him are inserted in his memoir. The tide of
Methodism reached our Henry Brooke, but he was not
carried away by it. A letter written by his daughter
Charlotte to her friend Miss Thompson shows how he
regarded certain of their tenets.
xiv INTRODUCTION
What effect the opinion of an adored wife might then (at the time he
wrote the latter part of the Fool of Quality) have had upon his mind, I
cannot answer ; but I know that while capable of judging, he con-
demned the doctrines of the Methodists- I remember a reply he once
made to one of them upon that very subject of the wrath of vindictive
Deity : ' Sir, if you would teach that God so hated the world, I cannot
become your disciple. ... My God is a God of love, and he tells me
that he so loved the world. If you had rather worship a God of hatred
than a God of love, I must beg leave to depart from your worship.
His sympathy with the better part of Methodism
appears at large in the pages of The Fool of Quality ; and
is corroborated by the fact that John Wesley himself
thought fit to issue that book as an illustration of what he
thought noblest in the conduct of life. In the life of Henry
Brooke Junior, it is related that the book fell into the hands
of Mr. Fletcher, of Madeley, who, supposing it to be written
by him, wrote in strong approval of the religious and moral
sentiments contained in it, and asked his correspondent if
he lived up to them.
In the year 1745 old Mr. Brooke died in embarrassed
circumstances. About this time Henry was made barrack-
master of Mullingar, 1 in which appointment he distinguished
himself, as Kingsley relates, by the publication of his
pamphlet on the various abuses connived at by the
authorities. This lengthy pamphlet ran into three editions.
I have never seen it, but the writer in The Dublin University
Magazine describes Brooke's manner very graphically. He
says : * With a patient flail he threshed the whole matter
sheaf by sheaf, occasionally turning his weapon and
flourishing fierce blows against any little abuse or chicanery,
on which occasions, no doubt, he dealt himself many a
hearty blow on the head, which told fatally against his
future interest, and killed downright any hope of prefer-
ment for him on the part of the Government.' The
Quixotism of The Fool of Quality was not more thorough
than that of Henry Brooke. Undoubtedly, in this case
the book is the man.
1 There is, however, some doubt as to whether it was not Phillips-
town of which he was barrack-master. Vide Magazine of Magazines,
Limerick: 'Promotion, May 8, 1756. Nicholas Crawford/ Gent.,
appointed barrack-master of district of Phillipstown (Henry Brooke,
Esq., resigned).' On the other hand, the various memoirs of Henry
Brooke state that he was barrack-master of Mullinpar at the time of
5 death. At Phillipstown, thirty-two miles from Dublin, there were
barracks for a company of foot. Formerly it had been a garrison.
Possibly Brooke was promoted thence to Mullingar.
INTRODUCTION xv
The year of his father's death was that of the Jacobite
Rebellion. The followers of Charles Edward had overrun
Scotland, won the battle of Prestonpans, and invaded
England. In 1746, when the rebellion was still running
its course, Brooke published his Farmer's Letters, calling
attention to the perpetual source of danger to the country
that existed in Ireland in the irreconcilable Catholics, who
outnumbered the Protestants by five to one, and were
ready, now as ever, to rise against their English conquerors
whenever they received the least support or encouragement
from outside. Later events have proved the justice of
Brooke's reading of history, and his diagnosis of the
general situation. He surveys the course of English
history as a protracted struggle between the instinct of
liberty and the forces of oppression, tracing the sinister
influence of the Papacy throughout, and pointing out that
the return of the Stuarts would mean a revival of the
principle of absolute monarchy, and the possible overthrow
of the Protestant establishment. ' This common enemy,'
he declares, ' is now at hand. He is our enemy by nature
as well as education, and my intent is to prove that, were
it possible for him to prevail, the consequence to us would
be the same as if this whole frame of heaven and earth was
to be broken and thrown into its first darkness and con-
fusion ; for such is the antipathy between a Popish prince
and Protestant subjects, and such would be the ruin of all
our interests, and the utter subversion of our State.' But
the time for such a revolution had long passed away, at
least in England ; the letters were hardly in print before
the Jacobite Rebellion collapsed, and the cause of the
Stuarts and of a Catholic reaction was lost for ever. But
in Ireland the danger from the oppressed Catholics yet
remained a danger that was still being fomented by the
mistakes and downright tyranny of the English, as Brooke
very fairly demonstrated in a later work, A specimen of
his powers of argument, with the declamatory eloquence
into which he continually rises, may be quoted :
I have already represented to you, in two former letters, the great
and heavy dangers that impend over us and our posterity from the
power of France and Spain, the principles of our inmate enemies, and
the intrigues of the Church of Rome, who, like the world, the flesh,
and the devil, make up a triple alliance of strength, intimacy, and
craft sufficient for as formidable a war as ever was waged against
religion and liberty. I have also shown you how the Church of Rome,
like that arch-politician, makes use of both the other powers to reduce
xvi INTRODUCTION
us by force, or circumvent us by treachery : that, as she is ambitious
of being the prince of this world, she aims at the perversion of all
mankind ; that she has already seduced millions to her state of perdi-
tion ; that, for many ages, she has attempted these kingdoms of light
and liberty, and that now, once for all, she makes her grand effort ;
she exerts all her influence and summons all her powers to subdue us
to her dominion of darkness and chains, to which the descent is easy,
but from whence there is no redemption.
I am sensible that there are many specious traitors who would
insinuate to you that there is no necessity for this great alarm ; that
nothing is meant of those evils I have represented ; and that the worst
intended by the present invasion is a transference of the Crown, with-
out any design against our constitution, our liberties, or our religion.
They will persuade you that the young man who hath adventured so
daring an enterprise is a person of many virtues and accomplishments ;
that he has undertaken this expedition merely to promote our welfare -
that, accordingly, he hath issued his manifestoes, and promises, upon
his honour, to preserve our constitution in Church and State. Observe,
my countiymen, he promises upon his honour. Who is then so credu-
lous as to doubt his intentions ? Not I, nor you, I hope : no, nor the
traitors who would insinuate such delusions, nor even his godfathers
Lewis and the Pope who would lay this child at our doors, and are
ready to vow all things in his name. His promises, indeed, are merry,
but Heaven preserve us from the woeful performance.
Can he promise away his nature and education ? Can he promise
away the principles and blood of his ancestors ? Can he promise away
the hopes he has already given our enemies, his gratitude to abettors,
and pre-engagements to confederates ?
Disease and weakness are ever ready to promise what health and
power as quickly disavow ; but the promises of design are like scaffolds
to a building they are made but for the season, they ate framed to be
brought to dissolution, they engage in order to destroy. 1
To a large extent, the Farmers Letters were a warning
against a danger that no longer existed ; they were not
altogether fair to the Irish Catholics, whose disaffection had
at least the excuse of deep provocation. Brooke felt this,
and in his Try al of the Roman Catholics, published in 1761,
he tried to redress the balance. Here he takes up a
contrary attitude, though not an inconsistent one, and
pleads for justice to his Catholic countrymen. He makes
amends at the same time for another publication directed
against them, The Spirit of Party, which had been severely
criticised by Charles O'Conor, author of Dissertations on
the History of Ireland, in a pamphlet entitled The Cottager.
Brooke now pleads for a relaxation of the penal laws
i See Whitehall Evening Post, March 6, 1770. Philadelphia,
September I, 1769; A gentleman in Virginia has lately left, by his
will, a handsome fortune to the author of the Farmer's Letters, as a
grateful acknowledgment of the eminent services thereby rendered to
the British colonies.
INTRODUCTION xvii
against the Catholics. The plan of his book is well set
forth by the title-page, which runs as follows : The Tryal of
the If oman Catholics, on a Special Commission directed to
Lord Chief Justice Reason, Lord Chief Baron Interest, and
Mr. Justice Clemency ; Wednesday, August $th, 1761, Mr.
Clodworthy Common- sense, foreman of the Jury, Mr Sergeant
Statute, Counsel for the Crown, Constantine Candour ; Esq.,
Counsel for the accused.
Wherever truth and interest shall embrace,
Let passion cool and prejudice give place.
Mr. Candour's argument is that his clients were most
unjustifiably oppressed at the present time because of the
alleged sins of their ancestors. Even were their fathers
proved guilty of the charges brought against them, this was
not right in justice and equity ; but, he maintains, their
supposed guilt is mainly a fabrication of biassed historians.
For instance, the Catholics are denounced by Clarendon
and other writers for having in 1641 massacred more than
forty thousand Protestants. Brooke's spokesman, by a
somewhat sophistical analysis of the evidence, proves to
the satisfaction of judge and jury, and also of the hostile
advocate, who confesses himself convinced, that this
occurrence never took place on anything like the scale
depicted in the current accounts. This he describes as a
fair example of the unfounded charges under which his
unfortunate clients have laboured, and for which they have
suffered all sorts of outrage and contumely. To the
question whether ' the People, properly called the Roman
Catholics of Ireland,' were guilty of the barbarities alleged
against them in 1641, the jury return an answer of not
guilty. ' Are the religious principles of Roman Catholics
consistent, or inconsistent, with the welfare of civil govern-
ment ? ' To this also there is a favourable reply, and the
same again to the demand whether there is any danger to
apprehend from the attachment of Irish Catholics to the
fallen house of Stuart. So ends the Tryal proper ; but the
Popery Laws themselves are next indicted, and after a
further hearing Baron Interest concludes:
Enough, enough, Mr. Candour. You have demonstrated, in all
lights, that the laws, especially called the Popery Laws, have conduced
very little to the strengthening of the throne or government of Ireland ;
and I am persuaded that Mr. Sergeant himself is of the same opinion.
A
xviii INTRODUCTION
Another pamphlet connected with this question was
written by Brooke, entitled, A Proposal for the Restoration
of Public Wealth and Credit by Means of a Loan from the
Roman Catholics of Ireland in Consideration of enlarging
their Privileges.
Garrick addressed the following lines to Brooke, on his
publication of the Farmer's Letters, which were read with
much admiration in London :
O thou, whose artless freeborn genius charms,
Whose rustic zeal each patriot bosom warms,
Pursue the glorious task the pleasing toil ;
Forsake the fields, and till a nobler soil :
Extend the Farmer's care to human kind,
Manure the heart, and cultivate the mind ;
There plant religion, reason, freedom, truth ;
And sow the seeds of virtue in our youth.
Let no rank weeds corrupt, or brambles choke,
And shake the vermin from the British oak.
From northern blasts protect the vernal bloom,
And guard our pastures from the wolves of Rome.
On Britain's liberty engraft thy name,
And reap the harvest of eternal fame.
Brooke was not seduced by this invitation to forsake his
retirement. His satirical opera, Jack the Giant- Queller^ the
best of all his poetical works, which appeared two years
after the Farmer's Letters, did not, as Kingsley supposes,
escape the vigilance of the censor. After being once acted
in Dublin, it met the fate of Gusavus Vasa, and was
prohibited under an act passed by Walpole in 1736, on
the score of its political allusions. Brooke published the
songs contained in it, and issued a pamphlet, written in
scriptural style, entitled The Last Speech of John Good,
vulgarly called Jack the Giant- Queller, who was condemned
on the ist of April, 1745, and executed on the third of
May following. This tract is full of bitter sarcasm against
venality and corruption ; ' yet,' an admirer says, ' so varied,
so versatile, and we may add so anomalous, was the man's
mind, that he sums up all with a peroration descriptive of
the great story of Redemption, so eloquent and orthodox,
that a Leighton might have read it for its spiritual beauty,
a Calvin endorsed it for its truth, and an Edward Irving
preached it for its gracefulness and originality.' One of
the songs contained in this opera was such a favourite
among Brooke's readers and hearers that it may as well be
INTRODUCTION xix
quoted as a specimen of his verses. It is founded on the
love affairs of two young people he knew.
Jack : Farewell to my Gracey, my Gracey so sweet,
How painful to part ! but again we shall meet.
Thy Jack, he will languish and long for the day
That shall kiss the dear tears of his sister away.
Tho' honour in groves of tall laurel shall grow,
And fortune in tides shall eternally flow,
Nor honour, nor fortune, thy Jack shall detain,
But he'll come to his Gracey, his sister again.
Again at our door, in the morning of spring,
To see the sun rise, and hear goldfinches sing ;
To rouse our companions and maids of the May,
In copses to gambol, in meadows to play.
Or at questions and forfeits, all ranged on the grass ;
Or to gather fresh chaplets, each lad for his lass ;
To sing and to dance, and to sport on the plain,
Thy Jack shall return to his Gracey again.
Or alone in his Gracey's sweet company blest,
To feed the young robins that chirp on the nest,
To help at her med'cines and herbs for the poor,
And welcome the stranger that stops at the door.
At night, o'er our fire and a cup of clear ale,
To hear the town news and the traveller's tale ;
To smile away life, till our heads they grow hoar,
And part from my sheep and my Gracey no more,
Brooke did not improve the song by changing Gracey,
the sweetheart, into a sister. This, like many more of the
songs, was composed for one of the melodies native to
Ireland and Scotland, and familiar to Brooke's audience,
to wit, * Lochaber no more '.
Brooke was continually writing plays, few, if any, of which
is there any reason to suppose were successful. The
biographer of his daughter wonders how it came about that
a man with so strong a bias for ' Methodistical ' opinions in
religion felt himself at liberty to write so perseveringly for
the stage. It was, I suppose, only another instance of his
natural liberality and breadth of mind. The same writer
tells an interesting story of Brooke's profoundly religious
character, and gifts that might have fitted him for a career
in the Church. One Sunday, while the congregation were
assembled in the parish in which he lived, they waited a
long time the arrival of their clergyman. At last, finding
he was not likely to come that day, they judged that some
accident had detained him, and being loth to depart
xx INTRODUCTION
entirely without their errand, they, with one accord, requested
that Mr. Brooke would perform the service for them, and
expound a part of the Scriptures. He consented, and the
previous prayers being over, he opened the Bible, and
preached extempore on the first text that struck his eye.
In the midst of his discourse the clergyman entered and
found his whole congregation in tears. He entreated Mr.
Brooke to proceed ; but this he modestly refused ; and the
other as modesty declared, that after the testimony of
superior abilities, which he perceived in the moist eyes of
all present, he would think it presumption and folly to hazard
anything of his own. Accordingly, the concluding prayers
alone were said, and the congregation dismissed for the
day.'
In 1749 Brooke was solicited by a large body of the
electors of Dublin to stand for that city at the approaching
election, but he declined the honour, ' because of some of
the most eminent merchants having published a declaration
in favour of another man, who,' he modestly says, ' to the
advantages of being a free citizen and excelling trader, he
adds an acknowledged superiority in every other merit.' He
was probably of too Quixotic a disposition to succeed in
parliamentary life. His various excursions into politics dis-
pleased every party ; his tracts on the Irish Catholics, in
spite of the praise they won by their literary merits, had no
practical effect whatever. It has been well said of him that
' he saw the peaks of virtue in enthusiastic lights, and if he
conceived that he was sailing on the current of truth, his
course then became reckless, and he would scorn the rudder
while he hoisted every sail to drive with the breeze or catch
the blast. He had a thorough knowledge of the world in
theory, and saw into character with a piercing eye ; but he
was simple and artless in his practical conduct, and too
chivalrous for common life.' The same writer records a
pleasant trait in his character. 'A clever pamphlet was
published against him full of personalities, and just after he
had finished its perusal a friend came in and inquired how
he had liked it. Brooke answered, " Why, sir, I laughed at
its wit, and smiled at its malice." ' Many letters and other
evidences are on record of his alert sympathy with the joys
and sorrows of his friends ; he was the kindest of landlords,
though often imposed upon, and entered into the troubles of
every cottier on his estate with a degree of sympathy almost
morbid.
INTRODUCTION xxi
After the death of his father in 1745, he lived for some
years at the old House of Rantavan with his brother.
Robert, who had married his cousin, Honor Brooke. The
two families, numbering twenty persons or more, lived
together in the rarest harmony. Robert was an enthusiastic
painter. Henry Brooke devoted himself to the education
of his children. His daughter Charlotte bears witness to
the systematic zeal with which he superintended her studies.
But his open-handedness and imprudence at last resulted in
pecuniary embarrassments. He was forced to give up the
happy home ; to mortgage, and eventually to sell Rantavan ;
and to rent a place called Daisy Park, near Sallins, in
County Kildare, from his cousin, Mr. Digby, of Landenstown.
Robert had already, in 1758, migrated to Osberstown, near
Killibegs, in the same county, 1 where by the interest of
the same cousin he had been made paymaster to the Grand
Canal. Henry lived by his pen and the profits of his govern-
ment appointment, which brought him in about four hundred
a year, and Robert added to his income by the sale of his
pictures. This phase of his life came to an end with the
events narrated by Kingsley, which led to his moving back
about 1770 to the neighbourhood of Rantavan, and building
' Longfield ', or Corfoddy. During the latter portion of his
life, agriculture was his ruling passion ; he not only ploughed
and planted, and wasted large sums on unproductive
schemes, but he wrote many able essays on the subject,
which had a wide circulation. ' To him a vein of marl was
more precious than a vein of gold,' a correspondent writes
in Brookiana. ' 1 believe he had all the writings of Hesiod,
Xenophon, Aratus, Eratosthenes, Cato, Varro, and even
Magon, the old Carthaginian, by rote.'
He still nursed literary ambitions, projecting several
schemes that came to nothing. In 1763 he had become
the editor of the Freeman's Journal. A prospectus for a
history of Ireland from the earliest times had been issued,
probably some years ago, but the project fell through,
difficulties having arisen as to the use of certain documents
and other materials on which he had counted. Many of
his productions were in the last degree fugitive. A number
were published anonymously, for he was very careless in
such matters. Among these was a series of translations from
the French of Comte de Caylus, issued in two volumes in
Robert's daughter, Sarah, born in 1754, has left it on record that
he ' left his brother Henry at Rantavan.'
xxii INTRODUCTION
1750, under the title, A New System of Fairery; or, A
Collection of Fairy Tales ; entirely new . . . containing (as
was always expected in those days even of works written for
entertainment) many useful lessons and moral sentiments.'
It must be admitted, with regard to these missing works,
that, though it would be interesting to know them, few of
Brooke's writings are readable now, with the exception of
The Fool of Quality. He was sixty years old when this
began to appear, and by the time the last volume was
published, in 1770, he was a broken old man. His beloved
wife died in 1773, and he never recovered from the blow.
He was reduced for a length of time, we are told, l to a state
of almost total imbecility.' ' The powers of his mind were
decayed, and his genius flashed only by fits.' Another
novel, Juliet Grenville, was a product of this period. An
extract from it, as just published, appeared in The Whitehall
Evening Post, of 25th December, 1773, the subject being,
' True Courage.' It was translated into German the following
year. The following notes from contemporary newspapers
are interesting :
At Drury Lane. ^Mr. Sheridan, we hear, is to appear in the character
of the Earl of Essex, in the tragedy of that name, written by Mr.
Brooke, the author of Gustavus Vasa, and never yet performed in
England. London Evening Post, i8th September, 1760.
This day was published, price is. 6d., The Earl of Essex, a. new
tragedy, as it is now acting at the Theatre Royal in Drury Lane, by
Henry Brooke, Esq., author of Gusavus Vasa. 22nd January, 1761.
This play is certainly much superior to either of the two former ones
on this story, etc. , etc.
Dublin, 29th September, Crow Street Theatre. Mr. Brooke has
written a Farce in which Mr. Barry and Mrs- Dancer are to perform.
Whitehall Evening Post, 8th October, 1767.
Dublin, ist November. We are to have two new pieces brought out
at the theatre this season, if we can get actors . . . the one, a tragedy,
by Mr. Brooke, author of Gustavus Vasa. Whitehall Evening Post,
1 2th November, 1768.
Brooke died at Dublin on the loth October, 1783.
1 He died,' says Miss Brooke, ' as he lived a Christian.
With the meekness of a lamb, and the fortitude of a hero,
he supported the tedious infirmities of age, the languors of
sickness, and the pains of dissolution ; and his death, like
his life, was instructive.' ' My father was the best of men.
Yet he did not die rejoicing. He died resigned, meek,
humble. It is the Lord, let him do what seemeth him
good.' He was buried in his father's old churchyard at
INTRODUCTION xxiii
Mullagh 1 . In 1852, { B ' (the Rev. Richard Sinclair Brooke,
father of the Rev. Stopford Brooke) who wrote the memoir
of Henry Brooke for the Dublin University Magazine,
describes in the same periodical how he met with a very
old and wrinkled woman, by name Judith Gallaspie, who
pointed out the precise spot where Henry Brooke was
buried ; for ' seventy long years ago she, as a young
colleen, went with the whole country-side to Kells to meet
the funeral coming from Dublin.' 'And she told of the
tombstone and enclosure which had been erected, but now
was all broken down and displaced, and scarce a vestige
remained save a few sunken stones. But the ancient crone
stooped over the sod, and with her long staff, as with a
diviner's rod, she traced the lines, and accurately squared
the spot where close under the south-western wall of the
ruin, and " in sure and certain hope of the resurrection to
eternal life," lay the gentle dust of one in whom were
singularly combined the highest intellect with the humblest
graces of a Christian. Here indeed is no tomb or
monumental marble ; but in the absence of all such decay-
able matter, God's sun shines perennially on the spot, and
every evening its descending beams will visit the old ruin,
and with their rich and tender light rest on the good man's
grave, bathing the green sod in glory.' I have quoted this
passage for the sake of the reverent feeling that it shows for
the memory of Brooke. Such a feeling was by no means con-
fined to his own relatives. Among the lines written to his
memory may be quoted those by the honest blacksmith at
Longfield, who wrote them the moment he heard of his
master's death :
Here lies a head with learning fill'd,
A tongue in Greek and Latin skill'd ;
A heart to pity always prone,
That felt for sorrows not his own ;
A hand still ready to relieve ;
The poor, indeed, may truly grieve.
His very looks reliev'd their wants,
And brighten'd up their gloomy haunts ;
An eye that wink'd at others' failings,
And ears close shut to noise and railings.
A foot that often trod in youth
The paths that lead to praise and truth.
1 It is curious that on the register of St. Michan's Church, Dublin,
appears this entry: '1783, October 22. H. Brooks.' It may be a
coincidence, or perhaps the entry was to fulfil some formality in
connection with removing the body to County Cavan.
xxiv INTRODUCTION
In all extremities a friend,
Slow, slow to borrow, quick to lend,
In all his acts sincere and just,
Then drop a tear upon his dust.
Of the two best portraits of Brooke one is repro-
duced here, a small monochrome water-colour bearing
the inscription, ' From a picture in possession of W.
Walker, 8 Gray's Inn Square. Engraved and published,
1821. Engraving, first edition, Fool of Quality ; Henry
Brooke, after Brooke by Thurston.' This was chosen by
Charlotte Brooke as the portrait to illustrate her father's
works, which would probably mean it was the better of
the two best known portraits. An engraving of it was
published in London by E. & S. Harding, on July 16,
1793: 'From the original picture in the collection of
Mr. Harding, Pall Mall; Brooke pinxt ; Clamp sculpt.'
The other portrait alluded to is the large oil-painting
called The Farmer, now in Mr. Henry Brooke's posses-
sion. It was painted by T. Lewis, a London painter,
and scene-decorator to Thomas Sheridan, who, on a visit
to Dr. Thomas Sheridan at Quilca, painted Sheridan's
* Painted Parlour.' This large oil-painting was engraved in
Ireland by Andrew Miller, in 1756, with the title of
The Farmer, and was reproduced again in J. C. Smith's
British Mezzotint Engravers, 1884. The Dublin Univer-
sity Magazine for 1852 has a delicate etching, full length,
from this painting, and Kingsley's edition of The Fool of
Quality, 1859, has a half-length engraving, by J.* C.
Armytage, from the same portrait. An admirable word-
portrait of Brooke is preserved in Brookiana. It is
contained in a letter describing a visit to Longfield. ' To
tell you the truth, I was charmed with the manner in which
he received me. I was scarce half-an-hour in conversation
with him, when I found I could trace him in all his
writings. He was dressed in a long blue cloak, with a wig
that fell down his shoulders, a little man, as neat as wax-
work, with an oval face, ruddy complexion, and large eyes,
full of fire. In short, he is like a picture mellowed by time.
Mrs. Brooke is in a very ill-state of health ; she is quite
emaciated, and so feeble that she can scarcely walk across
the room. I never saw so affectionate a husband, and so
tender a father, in my life. Out of two-and-twenty children
there are only two alive, a son and a daughter, Arthur and
Charlotte. I did not see the son ; the daughter inherits a
INTRODUCTION xxv
considerable portion of the countenance of her father ; but
she is as pale as a primrose, and almost as thin as her
mother. Our conversation at dinner turned chiefly on the
customs and manners of the inhabitants in the neighbour-
hood. You would really think that Mr. Brooke was talking
of his own children, they were all so dear to him ; he prayed
for them and blessed them over and over again, with tears
in his eyes. ... In the evening we walked into the garden ;
his favourite flowers were those that were planted by the
hands of his wife and daughter. I was astonished at his
skill in botany ; he dwelt for some moments on the virtues
of the meanest weeds, and then launched out into such a
panegyric on vegetable diet, that he almost made me a
Pythagorean.'
Of his twenty-two children only two survived him
Arthur, a brave soldier, who served in Canada, and after-
wards in India, where he died, after attaining the rank of
captain; and Charlotte, the Irish scholar. She was an
early pioneer of the Celtic movement, anticipating the
labours of Lady Gregory and Miss Hull by a hundred
years, though her work has not had the permanence that
may be anticipated for theirs. She made the mistake of
translating the old Irish legends into verse, a form for
which they are naturally unfitted. But she has the credit
of being a pioneer, and of calling attention to this mass of
forgotten literature, though her appeal fell for the time being
upon deaf ears. Kingsley gives some account of Brooke's
relatives. A cousin and namesake, Henry Brooke, was
high in the H.E.I. Co.'s service at Fort St. George, Madras,
and a friend and correspondent of Warren Hastings. Two
of Brooke's nephews went out to the East under his patron-
age. Digby was killed in action ; Robert, his elder brother,
attained to high military rank, and amassed a large fortune.
He founded an industrial village in Kildare for the purpose
of cotton-spinning, calling it Prosperous ; and was able to
assist his uncle by redeeming the mortgage on the Cavan
property. He was afterwards Governor of St. Helena.
The family tree which Mr. Henry Brooke has kindly drawn
up gives some interesting particulars as to other members
of the family.
In the memoirs of Henry Brooke Junior, an anecdote is
related which concerns the origin of the present book. He
and his uncle, the poet, used frequently to ride together
from Killibegs to Dublin, and the incident took place
xx vi INTRODUCTION
during one of these rides. 'My uncle desired me,' he
relates, 'to keep silence, till I had his permission to speak.
We rode on together for a considerable time without any
conversation whatsoever. He then broke silence, and
called to me: "Harry, I have been just ruminating over
the prettiest story imaginable ; would you like to hear it ? "
"By all means, sir; it would afford high amusement on
the road ; I was longing to hear you say something."
' The uncle then proceeded to produce from the copious
storehouse of his lively imagination, and with that beauty
of language of which he was so complete a master, a story
containing all the leading facts which render the work so
very amusing and interesting. This afforded ample enter-
tainment for the remainder of that journey ; Mr. Brooke
was hardly less delighted with the brilliancy of the con-
ceptions than the enraptured uncle ; and anxious to secure
so invaluable a germ, the seed of so rich a mental harvest,
as soon as he alighted from his horse, he retired to a room,
and while the impression was vivid and the recollection
unimpaired, he providently committed the whole story to
writing, and laid by the manuscript carefully. The termina-
tion of the ride concluded the story for that time, and no
further notice was taken.
* About twelve months after, one day that Mr. Brooke and
his uncle were alone together, he thus accosted his nephew :
" Harry, don't you remember when you and I were riding
from Killibegs to Dublin nearly a year ago, how I told you
one of the prettiest stories you ever heard in your life ? "
" I do indeed, sir." " It is entirely gone from me ; I have
not the faintest trace in my mind of the particulars; I
shall never be able to collect them again: I have only
the general recollection of its being very entertaining,
How glad would I be if I had then written it down.
I am sure it would make a very pretty book, and be
much read. Oh, my Harry, what would I now give
for it ! "
_ ' Mr. Brooke then slipped out of the room, and going to
his escritoire took out his manuscript, containing every
particular of the story as related by his uncle with the
utmost raciness. He immediately returned and handed
him the paper. The surprise and delight of the uncle may
be easier imagined than described. He embraced his dear
nephew, and expressed with rapture the overflowings of a
grateful heart. Counsellor Brooke now began to write the
INTRODUCTION xxvii
work which he fancifully entitled, The Fool of Quality.
He was sixty years old or more when he began it, and
nearly seventy when the final volume appeared.'
As letters now extant contain evidence that Henry
Brooke did not return from Daisy Park to County Cavan
until 1769-70 (new or old style), the work must have been
written at the former place, for the fifth and final volume
appeared in 1770. There are long extracts from it as just
out in the Whitehall Evening Post of loth and i2th April,
of that year. Kingsley relates how John Wesley republished
The Fool of Quality, with certain excisions, during the
author's lifetime, under the title of The History of Henry,
Earl of Moreland. He reduced the bulk by at least one
third, omitting what he calls * the uninteresting dialogues '
between the author and his friend, as well as divers
incidents * that would give little entertainment to men of
understanding '. He also omitted * great part of the Mystic
Divinity, as it is more philosophical than scriptural.'
Wesley's preface is interesting for its candour; the
criticisms are very free, but the praise is obviously sincere,
and full of discernment. It is worth while quoting a letter
written by Wesley to Henry Brooke Junior from Hull,
8th July, 1774, as it helps to explain how he came to
adopt the book :
DEAR HARRY, When I read over in Ireland The Fool of Quality,
I could not but observe the design of it, to promote the religion of the
heart, and that it was well calculated to answer that design ; the same
thing I observed a week or two ago, concerningyiw/z^ Grenville. Yet
there seemed to me to be a few passages both in the one and in the
other which might be altered for the better ; I do not mean so much
with regard to the sentiments, which are generally very just, as with
regard to the structure of the story, which seemed here and there to
be not quite clear. I had at first a thought of writing to Mr. Brooke
himself, but I did not know whether I might take the liberty. Few
authors will thank you for imagining you are able to correct their
works. But if he could bear it, and think it would be of any use, I
would give another reading to both these works, and send him my
thoughts without reserve, just as they occur.
Ten years ago, a well-known writer stated in an article
on The Fool of Quality, that Wesley coolly appropriated
the book, cutting out what did not meet with his approval,
'and had the impudence and dishonesty to publish it
thus mutilated, without the author's consent, and in his
lifetime, under a slightly altered title . . . and thus
doctored, this book has been passed off as a composition
xxviii INTRODUCTION
of the great head and founder of Methodism.' This, as
was instantly pointed out by correspondents, is not quite
true. It is contradicted by Wesley's own preface ; and
the fact that Brooke granted permission is confirmed by
a letter from Henry Brooke Junior, which contains the
following passage :
He (Henry Brooke Senior) is deeply sensible of your very kind
offer and most cordially embraces it. He has desired me to express the
warmth of his gratitude in the strongest terms, and says he most cheer-
fully yields the volumes you mention to your superior judgment, to
prune, erase, and alter as you please. He only wishes they could have
had your eye before they appeared in public. But it is not yet too
late. A second edition will appear to great advantage when they have
undergone so kind a revisal. But he is apprehensive your time is so
precious that it may be too great an intrusion upon it, unless made a
work of leisure and opportunity. Yet, as you have proffered it, he will
not give up the privilege ; but hope leisure may be found for so friendly
and generous a work \
The first two volumes of The Fool of Quality were quickly
sold out, and a second edition was called for in 1767. The
publisher was W. Johnson, of Ludgate Street. Wesley's
version also went through a large number of editions, and
was indeed the form in which the book was best known,
until the two-volume edition appeared in 1859 with
Kingsley's preface. The book is as puzzling to describe
as, say, The Anatomy of Melancholy, or The Doctor. It is
not only a novel, but also a commonplace book, contain-
ing the author's thoughts on ethics and social economy,
politics, religion, aesthetics, and indeed as many multifarious
topics as those dealt with in the digressions of La Nouvelle
Htio'ist itself. Such a theme as the youth and education
of an ideal nobleman gives ample opportunity for wide
meandering.
Kingsley's praise is enthusiastic, but not undiscriminating.
His appreciation of Henry Brooke is eminently just and
fair. In spite of numerous defects as a work of art, The
Fool of Quality is, indeed, a brave book, and an eloquent
book, filled with a noble inspiration that may well kindle
warmer feelings of love and respect for its author than
hundreds of more faultless works will ever attain. On the
other hand, Brooke's editor was just as right in criticising
1 It is only fair to state that Brooke himself was doting at the time,
and his nephew practically t ,ok the matter into his own hands in
jrantmg the permission. Wesley, also, laid himself open to criticism by
not mentioning the author either on the title-page or in his own preface.
INTRODUCTION xxix
his incoherence, his exaggeration, and fondness for impro-
bability. It is the salient characteristic of the book that
everything is in excess, the hero's perfections most of all.
For prigs Brooke had no love ; but with the usual ill luck
of those who put ideal heroes on a realistic stage, he does
not always escape the pitfall of making young Harry
Clinton look priggish. The goats are as jet-black, and
the lambs as snow-white, as in the works of any melo-
dramatist of our own sentimental fiction ; although in this
particular respect the book is infinitely superior to the
moralistic stories that were in vogue then and later, not
excepting the ' improving ' fiction of Maria Edgeworth.
The Alcides exploits of Harry's boyhood and his deeds
of charity are extravagantly overdone ; so are the calamities
of the blameless unfortunates, and the marvellous turns of
fortune by which innocence is at last rewarded. And the
pathos and tears are carried to preposterous lengths. One
feels ofttimes as if the victims of ingenious villainy, by
their unparalleled stupidity, deserved all they got ; and that
we should like the hero and his friends a great deal better
if they were a little less demonstrative in their emotions, a
little less effusive in their love of rectitude. But allowance
must be made both for the author's strong and fervent
nature, and for the influence of the school to which as a
novelist he belongs, if he belong to any. Sterne and
Richardson were the powers that reigned supreme over
the fiction written in the third quarter of the eighteenth
century. Mackenzie imitated Sterne, Robert Bage took
Richardson for his master ; Mrs. Inchbald, Mrs. Radcliffe,
Maria Regina Roche, and a number of writers who are
now almost entirely forgotten, produced novel after novel
in the manner taught in the school of sensibility. There
was, as Kingsley observes about Henry Brooke, and might
have said about a score of other novelists, something rather
French or Irish in this * passionate and tearful sensibility ',
something utterly opposed to English phlegm> Brooke's
sentimentality, however, is at any rate, not of the morbid
kind. It is the generous excess of the man's temperament,
the natural ebullition of feeling, that makes him enter with
the same gusto into the dare-devil feats of Ned and Harry's
boyhood, as into the miraculous virtues of their precocious
maturity.
There is another point that has not been noticed much
by Brooke's critics. The Fool of Quality was the first or one
xxx INTRODUCTION
of the very first novels containing a rational and sympathetic
study of childhood. It was not till nearly a century later
that a better picture of true boyhood appeared. This must
surely have been one of the attractions that appealed most
strongly to Charles Kingsley, a man so fond of children,
and with such an insight into their mind. The chapters on
Harry's infancy and boyhood are surely the tenderest and
the most fascinating in the whole story. In many of the
social and ethical ideas the influence of Rousseau is
probably to be traced, but most of all in those on education.
Harry's upbringing by his uncle, the natural mode of
education, which brings out the child's inborn tendencies
and powers, is contrasted with the false and artificial
methods to which 'Lord Dickie' falls a victim in the
hands of his unwise parents. But the book is, if not ahead
of its time, at any rate, on the very crest of the wave of pro-
gress, in all its ideas, and in its freedom from any sort of cant
or affectation. Why complain of our author's incoherence
and lack of constructive skill ? Books like The Fool of
Quality are not to be placed in the same category as the
ordinary stereotyped novel. They belong to that class of
book which we read in, but do not read through, at least,
not at a sitting. Rather we should dip into them, jump
lightly from chapter to chapter ; pick out an episode here,
and a pretty anecdote there ; ransack them for pithy
apologues, and tales of heroism nobly told. Taken in this
way, the book has in it much that is great. Parts, I submit,
of The Fool of Quality are truly in the grand style. Story,
character and thought are, in many passages, wrought into
a perfect harmony, and inspired with an admirable wisdom,
a genuine humour, and a noble ardour of feeling that makes
the reader's heart glow with responsive passion.
Among passages that may be singled out as equally fine
in manner and in matter, are such things as the fable of the
Three Trouts, and the old story retold of Damon aud
Pythias ; Brooke's skill in rehandling an old and hackneyed
tale, and endowing it with a new freshness and power, of
itself marks him out as a writer. In his new version of the
prophet Esdras, he catches something of the poetic spirit
of the Biblical writers, as well as the magnificence of diction
and the stately rhythm of their English translators.
If he cries war, it is war ; the banners of blood are let loose to the
wind, and the sound of the clarion kindles all men to battle. His
INTRODUCTION xxxi
hosts clothe themselves in harness, and range in terrible array ; and his
horses begin to neigh and tear up the ground, and his chariots to roll
as distant thunders. They move and cover the earth wide as the eye
can reach. The forests are laid flat, the mountains shake beneath them,
and neither the rocks nor the rivers impede the march of his armies.
They trample into dust the fruits of the field, and the labours of the
industrious ; houses, vineyards and standing corn ; the villages and
towns smoke on every side.
But the gem of the book (or is it only the piece that I
re-read last ?) is the story from Froissart of the surrender
of Calais, and Queen Philippa's intercession for the
burghers ; let me quote a few sentences therefrom :
As soon as they had reached the presence Mauny, says the monarch,
are these the principal inhabitants of Calais ? They are, says Mauny :
they are not only the principal men of Calais, they are the principal
men of France, my lord, if virtue has any share in the act of ennobling.
Were they delivered peaceably ? says Edward ; was there no resist-
ance, no commotion among the people? Not in the least, my lord ;
the people would all have perished rather than have delivered the least
of these to your majesty. They are self-delivered, self-devoted, and
come to offer up their inestimable heads as an ample equivalent for the
ransom of thousands.
That is the right epic note. The author himself
anticipates the objections of those who think we may have
too much even of a good book. 'Sir,' he says, 'a book
may be compared to the life of your neighbour. If it be
good it cannot last too long ; if bad, you cannot get rid of
it too early.'
ERNEST A. BAKER.
BIBLIOGRAPHY OF HENRY BROOKE
Universal Beauty : a philosophical poem in six books. 1735.
A Translation of the first three books of Tasso. 1737.
Gustavus Vasa : the Deliverer of his country ; a tragedy.
Intended to have been acted at Drury Lane. 1739.
Constantia ; or, the Man of Law's Tale (in Ogle's Canterbury
Tales Modernised). 1741.
Prospectus of a work to be entitled, Ogygian Tales ; or a
curious collection of Irish Fables, Allegories and Histories,
from the relations of Fintane the Aged, for the entertain-
ment of Cathal Grove Darg, during that Prince's abode in
the Island of O'Brazil. 1743.
Fables for the Female Sex, by Edward Moore (author of The
Gamester), and Henry Brooke. 1744.
The Earl of Westmoreland : a tragedy. 1745.
The Farmer's Letters to the Protestants of Ireland. 1746.
The Last Speech of John Good, vulgarly called Jack the Giant-
Queller. 1748.
New Fables. 1749.
An Occasional Letter from the Farmer to the Freemen of
Dublin. 1749.
A New System of Fairery ; or, a Collection of Fairy Tales.
Entirely new ; translated from the French ; 2 vols. 1750.
Redemption ; a poem. 1750.
A Description of the College Green Club, by H. B. ? 1753.
The Spirit of Party. 1754.
The Interests of Ireland considered. 1759.
The Earl of Essex ; a new tragedy, as it is now acting at the
Theatre Royal in Drury Lane. 1761.
The Tryal of the Roman Catholics. 1761.
A proposal for the restoration of public wealth and credit by
means of a loan from the Roman Catholics of Ireland in
consideration of enlarging their privileges. C. 1762.
The Freeman's Journal (edited by Henry Brooke), Dublin.
1763.
xxxiii A
BIBLIOGRAPHY OF HENRY BROOKE
The Fool of Quality ; Vol. I. ; Dublin. Printed for the author
(tic) by Dillon Chamberlaine, 1 in Dame Street, facing
Fownes's Street. 1765.
Vol. II. Printed for W. Johnston. 1766.
Vol. III. 1768.
Vol. IV. 1769.
Vol. V. 1770.
Vols. I. and II. 1767.
New edition, greatly altered and improved. 5 vols.
London : Edward Johnston. 1777.
Another edition. 5 vols. London : Edward Johnston. 1782.
Another edition. Dublin. 1796.
Another edition ; Vol. I. London. 1808.
Vol. II. London. 1809.
- Edition in 4 vols. Same date.
Constable's edition. 1832.
Henry, Earl of Moreland. An edition of The Fool of Quality,
edited, with retrenchments, by John Wesley. 1781.
Second edition. 1793.
Juliet Grenville. 1773.
Juliet Grenville ; oder, die Geschichte des menschlichen
Herzens. Leipzig. 1774.
A Collection of the Pieces formerly published by Henry Brooke,
Esq., to which are added several Plays and Poems ; now
first printed. 4 vols. London. 1778.
Another edition with large omissions. 4 vols. Dublin. 1792.
These two editions were unauthorised and defective.
The History of a Reprobate ; being the Life of David
Doubtful. 1784.
Paraphrased by Phillips. 1822.
The Poetical Works of Henry Brooke. Charlotte Brooke's
edition. 1792.
Chalmers, Alexander. Works of the English Poets. Vol. XVII.
Henry Brooke, etc. 1810.
Benignity ; or, the Ways of Happiness. Selected from the
Works of Henry Brooke. 1818.
A Guide to the Stars ; being an easy method of knowing the
relative position of all the principal fixed stars. 1820.
[Johnson, Samuel.] A Compleat Vindication of the Licensers
of the Stage from the malicious aspersions of Mr. Brooke,
by an Impartial Hand. 1739.
Brookiana. Anecdotes of Henry Brooke. 2 vols. London. 1804.
Mr. Morton's Zorinski and Henry Brooke's Gustavus Vasa
compared. 1795.
1 Chamberlaine was father of Mrs. Frances Sheridan, mother of
Richard Brinsley.
MEMORABILIA BROOKEANA
Agriculture, manufactures, and
commerce, the pillars of the
world, 25-7.
Altruism, 31, 40, 261.
Aristocracy, 276-9.
Beauty, 133-6.
Blushing, 124-6, 131.
Bribery and corruption, 300-1.
British Constitution, 273-84.
Canals, 353-6.
Chastity, 252-3.
Christ, Divinity of, 324-34.
omnipresence of, 395.
Christianity, 419-20.
Commerce, 352-6.
Court, The, 306.
Critics, 68-9.
Damon and Pythias, 31-3.
Debtors and debts, 224-7.
Democracy, 279-81.
Don Quixote, the greatest hero
of modern times, 44-5.
Education, Classical, 73-5.
Ideal, 127.
Faults, 130-3.
Friendship, 31-40.
Gentleman, A, 137-9, 157-62.
Ghosts, 17-20.
God in his Works, 319-20.
God's 'Anger,' 256.
Good and evil in all men,
165-8.
Good and evil, Difference be-
tween, 260-1.
Goodness, 367-9.
Grief, Kinds of, 398-9.
Heredity, 142-6.
Heroes defined, etc., 43-5.
Honour, 350.
Imprisonment for debt, 224-7.
Industry, 351-2, 354.
Infidelity, 324-34.
Inland navigation, 356.
King, The, 273-6.
Law and lawyers, 149-54.
Liberty, Civic, 264-99.
Lion and dog, Story of the,
T
London, 309.
Lycurgus, the greatest hero of
antiquity, 43-4.
Magdalene House, 323.
Man, 258-99.
Masqueraders, 312.
Money : its obligations, 346.
Music, 309.
Parliament, 281-4.
Physiognomy, 128, 133.
Self, 261, 399.
Self-love, etc., 31-40.
Sin, 330-1.
Society, 259-99.
States likened to men, 257.
Three Silver Trouts, Story of
the, n. .
Trade, 25-7.
Tyrants, 253-99.
Wine, King, Woman, 120-3.
Woman, 119-23.
xxxv
WILLIAB
PHYSICIAN OF RANT.
COUN1
Died prior
Rev. Wi
.LIAM B. =
LETTICE, dau. of
of Rantavan,
Scholar of T.C.D.,
Simon Digby,
Bishop of Elphin.
Rector of Mullagh,
&c.
b. 1669,
d. 1 3th Nov., 1745.
| |
|
DIGBY, * HENRY, = CATHERINE,
dau. of
ROBERT,
=
b. 1697. Author of
Meares, of the
Artist.
M.A, (T.C.D.), 1722. " Fool of Quality,"
Mearescourt family.
b. 1710,
&c.
d. 1784.
b. 1703,
d. loth Oct., 1783.
* CHARLOTTE, * HENRY,
Authoress of Artist,
" Reliques of and friend of
THOMAS
Tran
" Madam
DIGBY,
slated
e Guyon'
Irish Poetry," &c. Wesley and Fletcher.
Life,
"&c.
d. 29th Mar., 1793. b. Nov., 1738,
d. 1786.
d. 6th Oct.,
1806.
WILLIAM HENRY,
Artist!
Illustrated
" Carleton's Irish
Peasantry," &c.
d. loth Jan., 1860.
THOMAS f
E. I. Co.
Secretary of
and Acting
at St. H
b. 26th De
d.
Dictionary of National Biography.
EXTRACT FROM
BRC
OF DROMAVANA, AND FORMERL
BROOKE,
AN AND DROMAVANA,
CAVAN.
April, 1719.
1
I
Rev. HENRY, =
= THOMASINE,daU.of
ALEXANDER, = CATHERINE, dau. of
Scholar of T.C.D.,
Rev.
of Dromavana, Ri
chard Young,
Rector of Kinawley
Thomas Tucker,
Physician at Kells, o
: Drumgoon,
and Swanlinbar.
Rector of Moynalty.
County Meath. C
ounty Cavan.
b. 1681,
d. 1740.
HONOR
1
HENRY,
THOMAS, Rev. "V
WILLIAM,
his cousin).
E. I. Co. Service,
M.D., Scholar of T.C.D.,
Governor of
Physician to Rector of Granard,
Fort St. George, St.
Luke's Hospital, Co. Longford,
Madras.
London. b.
1721,
d. 1786.
1
b. 1721, d.
i8th Oct., 1781,
1804.
* ROBERT,
1
DlGBY,
Wn
.LIAM,
Col. in E. I. Co.
E. I. Co. Army,
M.D.,
Army,
killed on active
Physician
Governor of
service.
in Dublin.
St. Helena.
b.
1769,
b. 1745,
d.
1829.
d. 25th Jan., 1911.
L
1
I
IY, HENRY,
WILLIAM (Rt. Hon.)
Rev.
ice, Merchant,
of
Dromavana, RICHARD SINCLAIR,
icil, of Dublin.
Master in Chancery,
b. 1798,
;rnor b. 1780,
&c. d. 6th Aug., 1882.
i. d. 9th April, 1847. b. 22nd July, 1796,
774,
d. igth Aug., 1881.
H9- 1
1
R
ev. STOPFORD
AUGUSTUS
('he well-known
preacher and writer).
1
AMILY TREE OF
OKE
OF RANTAVAN, COUNTY CAVAN,
Rev. WILLIAM B.
of Rantavan,
Scholar of T.C.D.,
Rector of Mullagh,
&c.
b. 1669,
d. I3th Nov., 1745.
DIGBY,
b. 1697.
* HENRY,
Author of
M.A. (T.C.D.), 1722. " Fool of Quality,"
&c.
b. 1703,
d. loth Oct., 1783.
* CHARLOTTE,
Authoress of
" Reliques of
Irish Poetry," &c.
d. 2Qth Mar., 1793.
CATHERINE,
Meares,
Mearescourt
*HENI
Artist!
and friend
Wesley and
b. Nov.,
d. 6th Oct.,
dau, of
ung,
n,
an.
IR,
* WILLIAM
Artist
Illustrat
"Carleton'a l882
Peasantry,
d. loth Jan.
Dictionary of National Biography.
)RD
Is
>wn
friter).
OF DROMAVAN/
PREFACE.
IT is not easy to draw a trustworthy picture of Henry Brooke.
The materials for it which remain are very scanty. Only four
years after his death, in 1783 so had the memory of a once
famous personage faded from men's minds it was very difficult to
get details of his early life. He had lived too long too long, if
not for the education which great joys and great sorrows give, at
least for happiness and for fame. The pupil of Swift and Pope ; the
friend of Lyttleton and Chatham; the darling of the Prince of
Wales ; beau, swordsman, wit, poet, courtier ; the minion once of
fortune, yet unspoilt by all her caresses, had long been known to
Irishmen only as the saintly recluse of Longfield ; and latterly as
an impoverished old man, fading away by the quiet euthanasia of
a second childhood, with one sweet daughter the only surviving
child of twenty-two clinging to him, and yet supporting him, as
ivy the mouldering wall. She was the child of his old age,
"remembering nothing of her father," says a biographer, "previous
to his retirement from the world : and knowing little of him, save
that he bore the infirmities and misfortunes of his declining years
with the heroism of true Christianity, and that he was possessed of
virtues and feelings which shone forth to the last moment of his
life, unimpaired by the distractions of pain, and unshaken amid the
ruins of genius."
So says the biographer of 1787, in the ambitious style of those
days ; but doubtless with perfect truth. Yet neither he, nor any
other biographer with whom I am acquainted, give any details of
the real character, the inner life, of the man. One longs, but
longs almost in vain, for any scrap of diary, private meditation,
even familiar letter, from one who had seen, read, and above all
suffered, so much and so variously. But with the exception of
half-a-dozen letters, nothing of the kind seems to exist. His inner
life can only be guessed at ; and all that is known of his outer life
has been compressed into one short article in the Dublin University
Magazine for February, 1852, full of good writing and of good
a2
PREFACE.
feeling. Ite author is a descendant of Henry Brooke ; and to him
I am bound to offer my thanks for the assistance which he has
given me toward this preface.
One would be glad, too, (if physiognomy be, as some hold, a key
to character,) of some trustworthy description or portrait of his
outward man; to have known even the colour of his eyes and
hair : but this, too, is not to be had. Some Irish friend describes
him in terms general enough; as, when young, "fresh looking,
slenderly formed, and exceedingly graceful. He had an oval face,
ruddy complexion, and large soft eyes, full of fire. He was of
great personal courage, but never known to offend any man. He
was an excellent swordsman, and could dance with much grace."
There are certainly notes here of that heroical temperament,
softened withal by delicate sensibility, which shows forth in
every line of his writings. And there is another sketch of him,
in 1775, which gives the same notion: "He was drest in a
long blue cloak, with a wig that fell down his shoulders ; a little
man, as neat as wax-work, with an oval face, ruddy complexion,
large eyes, full of fire. In short, he is like a picture mellowed
by time." There is a drawing of him which seems to be the
same as that prefixed to his poems. If this, and the still finer
head on the title-page of Brookiana, be trustworthy, the face must
have been one of a very delicate and regular beauty. The large
soft eye, the globular under-eyelid, the finely arched eyebrow (all
notes of a sweet and rich, yet over-sensitive nature), are very
remarkable. There is a certain grace and alertness, too, about the
figure, which agrees with the story of his having been a good
dancer and swordsman. But on the type of brain, and even of the
masque, it is very difficult to pronounce. Portraits of the eight-
eenth century, not very trustworthy in any detail, are especially
careless in these. There seems no reason to suppose that English
faces were more sensual or more same a hundred years ago than
they are now ; yet who, in looking round a family portrait gallery,
has not remarked the difference between the heads of the seven-
teenth and those of the eighteenth century ? The former are of
the same type as our own, and with the same strong and varied
personality ; the latter painfully like, both to each other and to an
oil-flask ; the jaw round, weak, and sensual ; the forehead narrow
and retreating. Had the race really degenerated for a while, or
was the lower type adopted intentionally, out of compliment to
some great personage ? Be that as it may, Henry Brooke's portrait
is too like dozens of that day to be much trusted. Even if we
accept the lower part of the face, round and weak (though not
coarse), as the mark of that want of perseverance which was in
worldly matters his worst defect, yet we cannot accept the length,
PREFACE.
between the nose and mouth (which does not appear in the head
in Brookiana) ; nor, airain, the narrowing forehead, however lofty, as
the mark of an intellect so fanciful and so subtle ; occupied, too, with
the ideal more exclusively than any man of his time. Less breadth
across the eyebrows, with much greater breadth across the upper
part of the forehead, is the normal form of such brain now, as it
was in the Elizabethan age ; and we must believe it to have been
the same a hundred years ago.
Another source from which one might have expected to learn
something of Henry Brooke, and from which one will learn little
or nothing, are two volumes of " Brookiana," published in London,
1804. One knew that our Irish cousins, among their many charm-
ing qualities, did not always (whether by virtue of some strain of
Milesian blood, or of the mere influence of that exciting atmosphere
which made the Normans of the Pale Hibernis ipsis Eibemiores)
possess the faculty of historic method and accuracy ; but such a
mere incoherence as these Brookiana one did not expect. The
editor (surely an Irishman) seems to have inquired of all likely
Irishmen and women for anecdotes of Henry Brooke, and to have
received in almost every case the equivalent of the well-known
Irish answer : " No ; I don't speak German ; but I have a brother
who plays on the German flute ; " which answer the editor has
joyfully accepted as the best he could get, and filled his volumes
with anecdotes of every one except Brooke, and with notes
thereon ; notes on the ancient Irish ; notes on the town of
Kilkenny, its marble houses and free school, rendered necessary by
the fact that Mr. Brooke once praised a Mrs. Grierson who was
born at Kilkenny : poetry on all subjects, by twenty different
people, who had or had not spoken to Henry Brooke at some time
or other ; Dr. Brett's dedication to Lady Caroline Kussell of his
sermon on Wedded Love, wherein the doctor discourseth learnedly
on the three species of kisses ; literal translations of Irish poems
sent to Mr. Brooke by a person whose name is now forgotten, one of
which begins " Bring the high-toned harp of the many sounding
strings, ere the sun ascends the blue-topped mountains of the
wide extended sky ; " of which if Mr. Brooke read more, it is a
fresh proof of his exceeding graciousness ; and even a long transla-
tion of an Icelandic pastoral " by a young man who was enabled, by
the friendship of Mr. Brooke, to study that language." A mere
congeries of irrelevant gossip, not free from the sin of perpetually
dragging in great folks' names from the furthest end of the earth,
seemingly for the mere pleasure of putting them down in print.
However, the able editor, whoever he was, must be long since
gone to his account; and we may leave him in peace, and try
to spell out for ourselves, from the few hints he has vouchsafed
Tl PREPACK
us, something of the character and fortunes of this great Irish
es horn in 1708, in the house of Kantavan, county Cavan.
His father was a wealthy and worthy parson ; his mother a Digby,
a woman of sense and of good family, of whom Swift (stopping at
Rantavan on his way to Sheridan at Quilca) was said to stand more
in awe than of most country ladies.
The boy was sent to school to one Felix Somerford, for whose
poetry and love-making (unfortunate) vide Brookiana ; who was
of opinion that " Nature intended that the child should act some
great part on the theatre of human life," so sweet-natured, so
greedy of learning was he. And no doubt Henry Brooke was a
precocious child. At eight years old a fellow scholar brought him
an ode to the moon, which broke off with the line
'Ah, why doth Phoebe love to shine by night?"
Under which Henry wrote at once :
"Because the sex looks best by candlelight."
Smart enough, considering his years, and the fashion of the time ;
and afterwards, when he was sent to Dr. Sheridan's school in
Dublin, he gave fresh proofs of this rhyming power. There are
three of them in Brookiana, with a theme or two, full of grace
and fire.
While he was at college, Swift prophesied wonders of him only
"regretting that his talent pointed towards poetry, which of
all pursuits was most unprofitable." The Dean, says Brookiana,
when he saw how thoroughly modest and unpretending he was,
"never asked his opinion of any matter which was beyond his
power, or which might embarrass him." The artless vivacity
and sweetness of the lad seems to have softened even that cruel
heart. It utterly captivated, in the next few years, men of equal
talent and of more humanity. When he went to study law in
London, in 1724, he became at once the pet of Pope and Lyttleton ;
and one of the few really important things in Brookiana are a
few letters selected from a correspondence between Brooke and
Pope, which lasted for many years. Where are these letters now ?
Would that the Editor had given them all, even though, to make
room for them, he had consigned to obscurity a dozen of Irish
worthies. Brooke, in one of them written in 1739, is very solicitous
about Pope's religious tenets, having heard it insinuated that he
"had too much wit to be a man of religion, and too much refine-
ment to be that trifling thing called a Christian:" which Pope
answers satisfactorily enough, sending him a "vindication of the
Essay on Man from the aspersions and mistakes of Mr. Crousaz ; "
PREFACE. xli
and saying, for himself, that he " sincerely worships God, believes
in his revelations, resigns to his dispensations, loves all his creatures,
is in charity with all denominations of Christians, however violently
they treat each other, and detests none so much as that profligate
race who would loosen the bands of morality, either under the
pretence of religion or free thinking. I hate no man as a man,
but I hate vice in any man ; I hate no sect, but I hate unchari-
tableness in any sect. This much I say, merely in compliance
with your desire that I should say something of myself" a
confession of faith which will not surprise the few who still consider
(with Henry Brooke) the Essay on Man to be one of the noblest
didactic poems in the English language.
It is worth while to remark, in these letters, first the high terms
in which Pope speaks of young Brooke ; of his " modesty unspoilt
by applause," his "good qualities of the heart as well as of the
head," his "always honourable ends:" and next, the absolute
worship with which Brooke regards Pope apologizing to him, in
one place, for having confessed that " Virgil gave me equal pleasure,
Homer equal warmth, Shakspeare greater rapture, Milton more
astonishment ; so ungrateful was I to refuse you your due praise,
when it was not unknown to me that I got friends and reputation
by your saying of me things which no one would have thought
I merited, had not you said them. But I spoke without book
at the time. I had not been entered into the spirit of your
works, and I believe there are few who have. * * * * Any
one of your original writings is indisputably a more finished
piece than has been wrote by any other man. There is one
consistent genius through the whole of your works, but that
genius seems the smaller by being divided. * * * * Each
distinct performance is the performance of a separate author, no
one being large enough to contain you in your full dimensions "
and much more, at which we may smile now; and possibly, if
we be men of the world, hint that the young author did not
worship the great literary star for nothing. Perhaps, nevertheless,
"the whirligig of time may bring round its revenges," and
Alexander Pope be rated, if not as high as young Brooke sets
him, yet still far more highly than now. And mean while, is it
not in the nature of all noble young souls to worship a great
man, when they can find him? And ought it not to be in their
nature? Is there any feeling more ennobling (there are few more
delightful) than that of looking up in admiration (even though
it be exaggerated) to a being nobler than oneself? Alas! for
the man who has not felt that only through respect for others
can true self-respect be gained; that he who worships nothing,
will never be worshipful himself. Reverent, confiding loyalty
xlii PREFACE.
has been as yet the parent of all true freedom, and will be so
to the end of time, to judge from the success of the Transatlantic
attempt at liberty without loyalty. It is easy to boast of freedom
and independence; but there are those who would question (as
Henry Brooke would have done) whether there was not as much
manly independence in the heart of the Englishman who kneels
and trembles, he knows not why, before a certain lady in
St. James's Palace, as in the heart of the Yankee lad who boasts
that he is " as good as the President." So, at least, thought Henry
Brooke. He had an intense capacity for worship. All his life he
delighted to look up to beings better than himself, and, through
them, to God, as the sum and substance of all their goodness : and
not in spite of that, but because of that, he was, in the very best
sense of the word, a Liberal. Against all tyranny, cruelty, and
wrong ; against the chicaneries of the law and the chicaneries of
politicians, his voice was always loud and earnest. He held
political opinions which are now held or, at least, acted on by
every rational Englishman, whether Whig or Tory, but which
were then considered dangerous, destructive, immoral ; and he
Buffered for his opinions, in fame and in pocket, and held them still.
Never man lived a more original, self-determined, independent
life ; but he knew how to give honour where honour was due.
In London he studied law, and enjoyed such society as Pope,
Lyttleton, and Swift could give him. But these studies, however,
and this society were quaintly enough interrupted. He was re-
called to Ireland by a dying aunt, to become guardian of her child,
a beautiful little girl of twelveCatherine Meares of Meares Court,
of a good old Westmeath house. He put her, wisely enough, to a
boarding-school in Dublin ; and within two years, not quite so
wisely, married her secretly. Yet. neither the heavens nor his
family seem to have been very wroth with the folly. The marriage
was as happy a one as this earth ever saw; the parents Irish
people not holding the tenets of Malthus could not find it in their
hearts to scold so pretty a pair of turtles, and simply re-married
them, and left them to reap the awful fruits of their own folly in
the form of a child per year. On which matter, doubtless, much
unwisdom has been, and will be, talked in commonplaces which
every one can supply for himself. But it is worth while to clear
one's mind of cant, if it be only to judge Henry Brooke fairly for
five minutes, and to disentangle from each other some of the many
unsound objections which, as usual, are supposed to make one sound
one. It is wrong to marry secretly. True. But which is worse?
to marry secretly, or to be vicious secretly, with the vast majority
of young men? If Brooke is to be judged for doing what his
parents disapproved, then he is less, and not more guilty, than
PREFACE. iliii
three young men out of four unless parents would really prefer
ten years of vice for their sons, to the evils of an early mar-
riage. And the truth is, that parents the average religious
parents, as well as others do prefer the vice to the marriage ;
silence their consciences mean while (with an hypocrisy as sad as
ludicrous) by asking no questions, lest they should discover what
they perfectly well know of already ; and so lose, for the ten most
important years of the youth's life, all moral influence, all mutual
confidence, if not all mutual respect.
"But early marriages are so imprudent." Which would have
been most imprudent for Henry Brooke To run the chance, as
three out of four run, of destroying both body and soul in hell, and
bringing to a late marriage the dregs alike of his constitution and
his heart, or of beginning life on a somewhat smaller yearly
income? Of course, if a man's life consists in the abundance of
the things which he possesses, Brooke was the more imprudent of
the two ; but one strong authority, at least, may be quoted
against that universally received canon. Henry Brooke's life con-
sisted in his lofty moral standard, altogether heroical and godlike ;
in his delicate sensibility (quite different from sensitiveness, child
of vanity and ill-temper) ; in his chivalrous respect for woman ; in
his strong trust in mankind ; in his pitiful yearning, as of a saving
angel, over all sin and sorrow ; in his fresh and full manhood, most
genial and yet most pure ; in those very virtues, to tell the ugly
truth, which are most crushed and blunted in young men. Surely
one has a right to look for somewhat of the cause of such, in the
broad fact that those ten years which of all others are apt to be
the most brutalizing, Brooke passed in pure and happy wedlock.
What if the imprudence of his early marriage did cause the child-
wife to have a few more children? One may boldly answer, firstly,
"What matter?" and secondly, "I do not believe the fact, any
more than I do certain Malthusian statements anent such matters,
which require a complete re-examination, and that by men who
know at least a little both of physiology and of human nature."
Be that as it may, the beautiful little child-wife brought him three
children before she was eighteen, and Brooke, in search of some
more royal road to a competent income than the study of the law
offered, went a second time to London and his great friends.
There he wrote and published, under the eye of Pope, his
poem of "Universal Beauty," a sort of "Bridgewater Treatise in
rhyme," as it has been happily called. What sort of theodicy is to
be expected from a young man of twenty-two, may be easily guessed.
It is, as perhaps it should be, ambitious, dogmatic, troubling the
reader much with anacolutha, and forced constructions, which
darken the sense : a fault easily pardoned when one perceives that
xliv PREFACE.
it is caused not by haste or vagueness, but by too earnest attempts
to compress more into words than words will carry, and to increase
the specific gravity at the expense of transparency. Noticeable
throughout is that Platonic and realist method of thought in which
he persisted throughout life, almost alone in his generation, and
which now and then leads him, young as he is, to very noble
glimpses into the secrets of nature, as in these lines ; a fair
specimen both of his style and his philosophy :
"Emergent from the deep view nature's face,
And o'er the surface deepest wisdom trace ;
The verdurous beauties charm our cherished eyes
But who'll unfold the root from whence they rise?
Infinity within the sprouting bower !
Next to senigma in Almighty Power ;
Who only could infinitude confine,
And dwell immense within the minim shrine ;
The eternal species in an instant mould,
And endless worlds in seeming atoms hold.
Plant within plant, and seed enfolding seed,
For ever to end never still proceed ;
In forms complete, essentially retain
The future semen, alimental grain ;
And these again, the tree, the trunk, the root,
The plant, the leaf, the blossom, and the fruit ;
Again the fruit and flower the seed enclose,
Again the seed perpetuated grows,
And beauty to perennial ages flows."
Whatever opinion a public accustomed to a very different style of
verse may form of these, yet they will find many noble passages
both of poetry and of theology in this poem; passages which
justify the high expectations which Pope had formed of his pupil
and the honour which he is said to have done to Brooke, in
retouching and even inserting many lines. Indeed, Pope's in-
fluence is plain throughout, and the pupil has been imitating the
manly terseness, though he has failed of the calm stateliness of his
great, though now half-forgotten, master.
Shortly after the publication of this poem, he seems to have
returned to Ireland; and eight years, of which no record
seems to remain, he spent in Dublin as a chamber counsel, not
without success ; and to have worked for eight years at so uncon-
genial a business, in the very heyday, too, of his youth and
ambition, will redeem him somewhat from that imputation of want
of perseverance which is often urged against him. Let him have
the credit of having given the law a fair trial. His reasons for
throwing up his profession are easily guessed. The delays and
chicaneries of courts in the 18th century are well known. Henry
Brooke's judgment of them may be read at large in the " Fool of
Quality." The Irish Bar, too, was not in his days distinguished for
morality ; and one may well conceive that Brooke, especially as a
PREFACE. xlv
professed Liberal, found it difficult enough to earn his bread, and
yet remain an honest man.
No wonder, then, that we find him in 1736 back again in London.
He was welcomed there by Pope and Lord Lyttleton. Pitt (Lord
Chatham) introduced him to the Prince of Wales, who " caressed
him," say the biographers, " with great familiarity, and presented
him with many elegant and valuable tokens of friendship china,
books, paintings, &c." What more could man need, in days when
nothing was to be gained without a patron? Unfortunately for
Brooke's final success in the world, his patron, the Prince, was in
opposition, and, as Brooke conceived, in his headlong chivalrous
Irish way, an oppressed hero, the martyr of his own virtues ; and
he therefore " must needs, if he has a chance, openly espouse his
patron's quarrel, and thunder forth his wrongs to the world."
Not so insane a purpose as it looks at first sight ; for while the
Ministry practically consisted of Walpole, the Court, and the two
Newcastles, the Opposition numbered in the House, Pitt, Chester-
field, Carteret, Wyndham, Pultney, Argyle, and, in a word, the
strongest men in England ; and outside the House, as skirmishers
of the pen, Pope, Fielding, Johnson, and Glover. So that, even
from a worldly point of view, it was no unwise step in young
Brooke to bring out at Drury Lane his tragedy of Gustavus Vasa,
full of patriotisms, heroisms, death to tyrants, indefeasible rights of
freemen, and other commonplaces, at which we can afford to sneer
now superciliously, it being not only the propensity but the right
of humanity to kick down the stool by which it has climbed.
The play itself is good enough ; its style that of the time ; its
characters not so much human beings as vehicles for virtuous or
vicious sentiments. If Trollio, the courtier Archbishop of Upsal,
be really meant for Walpole, he will stand equally well for any
ancient rascal. The only touch of what we now call human nature
(in plain words, of casuistry) is to be found in the once famous
scene in which the tyrant tries to treat Gustavus' resolve by the
threat of murdering his mother and sister. In it there is real
dramatic power, superior, I should say, to that of any English
tragedian of the 18th century, and sufficient to redeem the play
from utter dreariness, in the eyes of a generation which has learnt
that old Swedes did not think, talk, and act half like Frenchmen,
half like antique Komans. But the real worth of the play lay, and
lies still, in the loftiness of its sentiments. Those were times in
which men were coarser and more ignorant, but yet heartier and
healthier than now. Those "intricacies of the human heart,"
which (as unravelled either by profligate Frenchmen or pious
Englishwomen) are now in such high and all but sole demand,
were then looked on chiefly as indigestions of the human stomach,
T lvi PREFACE.
or other physical organs ; and the public wanted, over and above
the perennial subject of love, some talk at least about valour,
patriotism, loyalty, chivalry, generosity, the protection of the
oppressed, the vindication of the innocent, and other like matters,
which are now banished alike from pulpit and from stage, and only
call forth applause (so I am informed) from the sluts and roughs
in the gallery of the Victoria theatre. In that theatre, but
nowhere else in London, Gustavus Vasa (so do times change) might
still be a taking play.
It took in Brooke's time, but in a fashion very different from
that which he expected. After being accepted at Drury Lane,
rehearsed for five weeks, and carried safely through all the troubles
of the green room, it was prohibited by the Lord Chamberlain, on
account of its political tendency.
Such silly tyranny bore such fruit as we have seen it bear in our
own days. If the world might not see, at least the world could
read. Brooke published the play in self-defence, and sold four
thousand at five shillings each. The Prince sent him a hundred
guineas. Chesterfield took forty copies, Dr. Johnson published (what
I am ashamed to say I have not seen) an ironic " Complete Vindi-
cation of the Licensers of the Stage, from the malicious aspersions
of Mr. Brooke, author of Gustavus Vasa ; " and Brooke gained a
complete triumph, and a thousand guineas into the bargain ; took
a villa at Twickenham, close to Pope's, sent to Ireland for his
family and his wife, who (so the Prince proposed) was to be foster-
mother to the yet unborn George III., and set up in life, at the age
of thirty-three, as a distinguished literary character, with all that
he needed both of " praise and pudding."
If the charming and successful Irishman had but prospered
thenceforth, as most men prosper in the world, then we should
have had another great literary personage, possibly another great
parliamentary orator: but we should not have had "The Fool
of Quality," and Ireland probably would not have had the man
Henry Brooke. A course of chastening sorrow was appointed for
this man, all the more long and bitter, perhaps, because he was so
dear to Heaven. " Whom the Lord loveth he chasteneth," was the
law ages since, and will be, perhaps, until the end. At least, it
was so with Henry Brooke. Far from poets and courtiers, and all
that was beginning to intoxicate (as it must have intoxicated) his
noble heart, he must sit through long years of ever-growing
poverty and loneliness, watching the corpses of his dead children,
dead joys, dead hopes, till he has learnt the golden secret, and
literary fame, and all fame which men can give, lies far behind him
and below him, for the glittering, poisonous earth-fog which it is, and
his purified spirit rises into those pure heights which he only saw
PREFACE. xlvil
afar off, when he wrote his "Universal Beauty," as a lad of
twenty-two. He shall return to his first love : but he shall return
by a strait gate and a narrow way.
In 1740, in the very heyday of his success, he is taken alarmingly
ill. He must try his pure native air of Rantavan ; and he tries it,
and recovers. Once well again, he will of course return to London ;
all his great friends expect him. To their astonishment he sells
off his furniture at Twickenham, rids himself of his villa, and stays
at home.
" His wife," say the biographers, " was afraid lest his zeal for the
Prince should get him into trouble." That may have been the
argument which she used in words : but what good woman has not
dumb instincts and forecastings deeper and wider than her
arguments? There may have been many reasons (and yet none
of them dishonourable to Brooke) for withdrawing the most
charming of husbands from a frivolous and profligate city, especially
when that husband's purse had a perennial tendency to empty as
fast as it filled. At least Henry Brooke was true lover and wise
man enough to obey ; to give up London, fame and fashion ; and
in the society of a woman whom he had loved from childhood, and
at whose death, at last, he pined away, henceforth to " drink water
out of his own spring ; " and a nobler act of self-renunciation one
seldom meets with. It stamps the man at once as what he was ;
pure, wise, and good.
His great friends, and the Prince among them, wrote to him in
his retirement, letters which are said to have perished in some fire.
He published, too, from time to time, a paraphrase of " The Man
of Law's Tale," for Ogle's Chaucer, which we shall not prefer to
the original. The Earl of Westmoreland, a tragedy, was performed
at Dublin, as good as other tragedies of the day. For several
years, indeed, his hankering for the stage continued, to the scandal
of some of his biographers ; one of whom, Mr. Richard Ryan, a
Romish compiler of " Lives of Irish Worthies," thus vents his (or
his Methodist informer's) respectability on the matter :
"During the greater part of his life his religious opinions
approached to what are called Methodistical, yet he uniformly
supported the stage : nevertheless, it is certain he lived more
consistently than he wrote. No day passed in which he did not
collect his family to prayer, and read and expounded the Scriptures
to them with a clearness and fervency edifying and interesting." A
strange phenomenon must Henry Brooke have been, throughout
his life, to bigots and precisians of all denominations. I have not
had the pleasure of reading Mr. Richard Ryan's biography, a mis-
fortune which is much softened to me by the perusal of this
quotation from it. Doubtless Brooke's Methodist friends, had they,
PREFACE.
and not high heaven, had the making of Henry Brooke, would
have treated him after the same Procrustean method as John
Wesley treated the Fool of Quality, which he purged of such
passages as were not to his mind, and then republished during the
author's lifetime, as the " History of Harry, Earl of Moreland," a
plan which was so completely successful, that country Wesleyans
still believe their great prophet to have been himself the author of
the book.
In 1745, Chesterfield came to Ireland as Viceroy : and though
Brooke (who was of an independence of spirit too rare in Ireland
then) "was among the last to pay his respects to him," he was
appointed barrack-master of Mullingar, with a salary worth a clear
400 a year. A rational Irishman of those days would have
pocketed his money, and held his tongue : but Brooke must needs,
with that foolish honesty which always hampered him, thoroughly
work out the history of these and other Irish barracks, their
jobbery, peculation, and what not, and throw the whole into a
satirical pamphlet, "The Secret History and Memoirs of the
Barracks of Ireland ;" thereby putting a sufficiently wet blanket
upon any chance of future government preferment. That year saw
the publication of his " Farmer's Letters," written in the expecta-
tion of a revolt of the Irish Koman Catholics. They excited
much attention at the time, but were denounced by some for their
supposed severity. Brooke's vindication of them, containing an anec-
dote honourable to the Irish for his ill-founded expectation of a
rebellion, may be found in Brookiana, vol. i. p. 85 a model of that
English prose of which he was a perfect master, and a model too of
good sense and humanity. In nothing, I may say here, does
Brooke show more in advance of his generation, than in his
opinions as to the right method of governing the Irish Catholics,
opinions which have been since, when all but too late, universally
accepted and acted on.
In 1747, he wrote four poems for Moore's "Fables for the
Female Sex," one at least of which, "The Sparrow and the
Dove," is a beautiful reflection of his own pure wedded life : but,
indeed, Henry Brooke is never more noble, not even when he talks
theology, than when he speaks of woman.
Two years after, we find him " solicited by a large body of the
independent electors of Dublin to stand for that city," and de-
cliningas one would have expected him because there was
another candidate in the field, who was not only (what he was
not) an excelling trader," but had " an acknowledged superiority
in every other merit."
Garrick, about this time, "offered him a shilling a line for
everything he would write for the stage, provided he wrote for
PREFACE. xlix
him alone." Brooke refused, as a man who did not choose to sell
his brains to any master; and a coolness ensued between them.
Garrick was not the only man, it seems, whom he offended by that
independence of spirit ; which, however softened by his natural
sweetness, must have been galling to all greedy, vain, or super-
cilious men. Johnson, though he tried to be fair to him, and
vindicated his Gustavns Vasa in public, could not conceal his
dislike of a man who was certainly his superior in intellect, who
had no inclination to bow down and worship, when worship was
rudely demanded; whose grace and courtesy must have seemed
to the great bear mere foppishness; and whose liberal opinions
(persisted in throughout life) must have been shocking to the
Toryism of Johnson's later years. His silly parody on a fine line
in Gustavus,
" Who rules o'er freemen should himself be free,"
is well enough known :
" "Who drives fat oxen should himself he fat,"
answered Johnson, laughing (he only knew why) at the sentiment.
That here was a quarrel between them, there seems to be no
doubt; and to it is attributed Johnson's omission of his name
from the lives of the English poets. His descendant says (Dublin
University Magazine) that the traditionary story in their family as
to the cause of quarrel bears so heavily on Johnson's manner,
and is so flattering to the courtesy of the poet, that he would
prefer not to write it down. Why so ? One would be glad of any
fresh anecdote, either of Brooke or Johnson: but, be the story
true or false, there was most probably a natural antagonism
between the two worthies; in character, as between a delicate
and a coarse nature ; and in intellect, as between nominalist and
realist, those two world-wide types of human brain which have
quarrelled since the creation, and will quarrel till the day of
judgment.
Mean while all went smoothly at Kantavan. Henry's brother,
Kobert, who was as fond of painting as he of poets, lived with
him ; both of them in easy circumstances, and both with children
(as is fit in the prolific air of Erin) innumerable. Strange to say,
the two families did not quarrel. " The house," writes some one,
" is a little paradise, the abode of peace and love."
After a while, however, the storms began to burst. Henry's
children began to die one after the other, and with death came
(we are not told how) poverty. The family estate had to be
mortgaged and sold. Henry, having paid his debts, hired Daisy
Park, in County Kildare; his brother took a house near him.
There the one lived by his paintings, the other by his barrack
1 PREFACE.
master's place, and by Whig political tracts, which, though they
sold, seem to have satisfied neither party. The Catholics could
not like an adorer of the "great and good King William;" the
Protestants, one who preached common mercy and justice to the
Catholics, and exposed the suicidal folly of preventing them, by
penal laws, from improving their own lands, or developing the re-
sources of their country. Of his " Trial of the Roman Catholics,"
all I can say is, that the extracts from it in Brookiana are full of
sound wisdom, both moral and political ; and, as far as it goes,
advocates nothing but the very policy which all are now agreed
to pursue toward the Celtic race.
About this time some of Brooke's relations were making large
fortunes in India ; and one of them, Colonel Robert Brooke, who
seems to have been a noble character, and a good soldier, sent
home to his father and uncle 33,0001. especially to redeem the
mortgage on the Cavan property. Brooke did so, and built a
lodge thereon, calling it Longfield, or Corfoddy. Here he gave
himself up to agricultural speculations; drained a lake, and got
a bog instead; experimented on water-power and drainage, and
sank a great deal of money ; as many another honest gentleman
has done, who has dared to tamper with that stubborn dame,
Mother Earth, without being bred to the manner.
However, if he wasted much money, he wasted it honourably
and usefully. " Vast sums of money must have passed through his
hands," says one reporter in Brookiana. But they passed at least
into the pockete of the starving Irish, in the form not only of alms,
which he gave but too lavishly and carelessly, but of employment,
of new cottages, new gardens, and a general increase of civiliza-
tion, physical and moral. No doubt, his dreams were wider than
his success. " Would you believe," asks one, " that Henry Brooke
would quit the sweet vales of Daisy Park, to pass the evening of
his life at the foot of a barren mountain in Corfoddy, or Longfield,
as he calls it, in the wildest part of the county? Yet he is as
philosophical as poetical, and as cheerful as ever. He was bom
in a desert, and to a desert he has returned. And yet in his
imagination, he has already ploughed the one-half of the land ;
sprinkled the country all round with snug cottages ; already he
thinks he hears the clack of the busy mill, and the sound of the
anvil. To do him justice, however, he has already built a house
of lime and stone, two stories high, with glass windows too, which
never fail to attract the gaze and admiration of the solitary
passenger."
The secret charm of Longfield was, perhaps, that it was his own :
but there is many a man in Ireland and elsewhere who would
have rested in the mere sense of possession, without considering
PREFACE. li
himself bound to live on his own estate. But perhaps Brooke was
too conscientious, as well as too kind-hearted a man, to leave the
wild Irish of Corfoddy to shift for themselves, and so (though the
place could not but be a sad and humbling one to him, for only
half a mile oif was the old " House of Rantavan," where he was
born, now passed into other hands) he would go and live and die
among his own people, and see what could be done for them ; and
not altogether in vain, to judge from another report written some
ten years later :
" When I came within six or seven miles of Mr. Brooke's, I was
afraid I should mistake the way in such a wild part of the county,
so that I asked almost every one I met, man, woman, and child,
'Is this the way to Corfoddy?' Every one knew Mr. Brooke,
every one praised him, and wished he might live for ever.
"As I knew that the author of Gustavus Vasa had written a
great deal in praise of agriculture, I expected of course, as I
approached his house, that it would be bosomed high in tufted
trees" (a most Irish expectation, seeing that the said house had
only been built a dozen years). * * * " But I was never so
disappointed in my life not a tree on the whole road, not a hedge
to be seen, and the way so bad, that I am sure it must be im-
passable in the winter. His house stands on a barren spot, and
the only improvement I could see, a little garden in the front,
shaded with a few half-starved elms, that seem rather to have been
planted by chance than design." This hardly agrees with the
account of the Dublin University Magazine, that the roofless ruins
of his labourers' cottages still stand, and that his hydraulic works
were at one time so extensive, as to frighten the millers on the
Blackwater into a deputation to Lord Headfort, entreating that
Mr. Brooke might not turn the course of the whole river; to
which Lord Headfort answered, " That they had nothing to fear
from Mr. Brooke. That he should be sorry to meddle with that
gentleman." The disappointed tourist, however, finds hospitality
and an excellent libraiy, and at last Mr. and Mrs. Brooke. His
sketch of the old man has been already given; the child- wife, alas!
worn out by bearing and losing children, is quite emaciated, and
so feeble she can hardly walk across the room. " I never saw so
affectionate a husband, and so tender a father. Our conversation
at dinner turned on the manners and customs of the inhabitants
of the neighbourhood. You would really think that Mr. Brooke
was talking of his own children, they were all so dear to him.
He prayed for them, and blessed them over and over again, with
tears in his eyes." (He was so tender-hearted, they say, that
Mrs. Brooke was always afraid to tell him of the death of a neigh-
bouring cottager.) " That evening we walked into the garden.
b
m PREFACE.
His favourite flowers were those that were planted by the hands
of his wife and daughter. I was astonished at his skill m botany.
He dwelt on the virtues of the meanest weeds, and then launched
out into such a panegyric on vegetable diet, that he almost made
me a Pythagorean. * We came to a little gurgling
stream Mr. Brooke (who was from youth a fine Italian scholar)
gazed on it for some moments, and then repeated these lines out
of Metastasio :
1 Copre in van le basse arena
Picciol rio con velo ondoso,
Che rivela in fondo algoso
La chiarezza dell' umor.' "
* *
u And Noah was a just man, and perfect in his generations ; and
Noah walked with God." Even such was Henry Brooke, though,
like Noah, he saw cause to be deeply dissatisfied with the state of
the world around him, and gave much excellent advice in his
time, for which he was only laughed at. Surely the thousands
(probably exaggerated by the ardent imagination of the Milesian,)
which are said to have passed through his hands, were not alto-
gether ill-spent (of squandering there is no proof), if they had
bought that which is above all price, the love and prayers of every
human being round ; if they had gone to soften and develop the
humanity of those poor savage oppressed Celts. Had the money
been invested in business, and lost (as men of business now-a-days
are wont to lose), in the normal and respectable way of bankruptcy,
no one would have thought the worse of him. And surely Henry
Brooke, like every man in a free country, had a right to spend his
money as seemed best to him. When he owed he paid, though it
cost him great sacrifices ; he had to the last enough whereon to
live honoured, and to die happy ; and what does man want more ?
There always have been, and there always will be, those who
having food and raiment, fitted at least for their station, are there-
with content, because they prefer the making of human characters,
their own and others, to the making of money ; and find that one
human brain cannot attend to both occupations at once. Of such
was Henry Brooke.
Of his later publications I shall say but little : a clever political
opera of his, "Jack the Giant-queller," was acted in Dublin as
early as 1748, full if not of humour, still of fluent Irish wit, thrown
into comic songs, of his usual lofty morality. The censor of the
Dublin stage, to do him justice, must have been far more liberal
than the English Lord Chamberlain, or the Giant-queller would
have been a co-martyr with Gustavus Vasa. There are several
more tragedies and comedies from his pen, seemingly first printed
PREFACE. liii
m 1778, when he had ceased to write, and a novel, " Juliet Gren-
ville, or the History of the Human Heart," published 1774, in
which his biographers only see " the ruins of genius."
Of his last years, which were spent in Dublin with his only sur-
viving daughter, no record remains. Mrs. Brooke died in 1772,
and a very dear daughter just before her. His only surviving son,
Arthur, was serving in the army in Canada, and he was left alone
with Charlotte, now the only girl, an accomplished woman of
genius, and author of the earliest translations of Irish poetry. From
the time of his wife's death he shut himself up from the world, and
was thought by many to be dead. He went after a while to Dublin,
where (so Charlotte Brooke told Maria Edgeworth) he used, instead
of walking up and down his room composing, to sit for hours
gazing into vacancy ; and died peacefully in 1783, aged seventy-
seven years as he lived, a philosopher, a gentleman, and a
Christian.
But of all his works, the "Fool of Quality" was the best, the
most characteristic, and possibly the most precious in his eyes.
He spent several years over it. The first volumes were published
in 1766, when he was sixty years old ; the fifth not till 1770. In
it we have the whole man : the education of an ideal nobleman
by an ideal merchant-prince has given him room for all his specu-
lations on theology, political economy, the relations of sex and
family, and the training, moral and physical, of a Christian gen-
tleman ; and to them plot and probability are too often sacrificed.
Its pathos is, perhaps, of too healthy and simple a kind to be con-
sidered very touching by a public whose taste has been palled by
the "aesthetic brandy and cayenne" of French novels: John
Wesley's opinion of it was, that it was " one of the most beautiful
pictures that ever was drawn in the world ; the strokes are so
delicately fine, the touches so easy, natural, and affecting, that I
know not who can survey it with tearless eyes, unless he has a
heart of stone."
Nevertheless, overmuch striving for pathos is the defect of the
book. The characters in it, in proportion as they are meant to
be good, are gifted with a passionate and tearful sensibility, which
is rather French or Irish than English, and which will irritate, if
not disgust, many whose Teutonic temperament leads them to
pride themselves rather on the repression than the expression of
emotion, and to believe (and not untruly) that feelings are silent
in proportion to their depth. But it should be recollected that
this extreme sensibility was a part of Brooke's own character;
that each man's ideal must be, more or less, the transfiguration of
that which he finds in himself; and that he was honest and rational
in believing that his sensibility, just as much as any other property
b2
U Y PREFACE.
of his humanity, when purified from selfishiwess (which was in his
ethics the only method of perfection), could be made as noble, fair,
and useful, as any other faculty which God had given.
The fifth volume, seemingly published in 1770, is certainly inferior
to the rest, and without seeing in it, as some have done, only " the
magnificent ruins of genius," one may judge from it that his noble
intellect was failing rapidly, even before that loss of his wife which
gave the death-blow alike to heart and brain. Nevertheless, even
hi it are deep and beautiful thoughts, on theology and political
economy ; and in his decadence, Henry Brooke is still in advance
of his age, preaching truths which are now accepted by most
educated Englishmen, and other truths which will be accepted by
them ere long.
Nevertheless, that " Good wine needs no bush," is an old proverb ;
one so true, that the fact of this book needing a preface, will pos-
sibly create a prejudice in the eyes of many.
The book, it will be said, is not yet a hundred years old ; if
therefore it had been of real value, it would not have so soon lost
its popularity. Surely, some intrinsic defect in it has caused it
to be not undeservedly forgotten. And if an average reader
deigned to open the book, he would probably find in the first
hundred pages quite enough to justify to himself his prejudice.
The cause of its failure, he would say, is patent. The plot is
extravagant as well as ill-woven, and broken, besides, by episodes
as extravagant as itself. The morality is Quixotic, and practically
impossible. The sermonizing, whether theological or social, is
equally clumsy and obtrusive. Without artistic method, without
knowledge of human nature and the real world, the book can never
have touched many hearts, and can touch none now.
To all which it may be answered, that if the form of fiction now
popular is the only right form; if artistic method consists merely in
dramatic unity of interest, in weaving a plot which shall keep the
reader expectant and amused, without demanding of him even a
moment's reflection ; if knowledge of human nature is to signify
merely its everyday and pettiest passions, failings, motives ; if, in
a word, the canons which are necessary for a successful stage play
are also to limit fiction of eveiy kind : then this book, as a fiction,
is a very bad one, and its editors must succumb to the too probable
verdict of an age which seems determined that art shall confine
itself more and more exclusively to the trivial, the temporary, and
the vulgar; which has made up its mind to have its novels written
by young ladies, and its pictures painted by pre-Raphaelites ; and
in which ideal art, whether in fiction or hi painting, seems steadily
dying out perhaps for want of that very realistic tone of thought
which is to be found in Henry Brooke.
PREFACE. Iv
If, again, theology, properly so called, is to be henceforth an
extinct science ; if nothing can be known of God's character, even
from the person of Jesus Christ, save that he will doom to endless
torture the vast majority of the human race, while he has made,
for the purpose of delivering a very small minority, a certain highly
artificial arrangement, to be explained by no human notions of
justice or of love ; if the divine morality be utterly different from
the ideal of human morality ; if generosity, magnanimity, chivalry
all which seems most divine in man is to have no likeness in
God, no place in the service of God ; if the motives of religion
are to be confined henceforth to the most selfish of human hopes,
and the basest of human fears; if, in a word, Spurgeonism,
whether Protestant or Catholic, is the only fit creed for mankind ;
then, indeed, all the seemingly noble teaching of this book, however
much it may seem to reflect the life of Christ, or the teaching of
St. Paul, is superfluous ; and its diatribes may be passed over as
impertinent interferences with the dramatic unity of the plot.
But if an ideal does exist of the human soul as of the human
body ; if it be good to recollect that ideal now and then, and to
compare what man is with what man might be ; if the heroic
literature of every nation, and above all these, the New Testament
itself, are witnesses for that spiritual ideal, just as Greek statuary
and the paintings of the great Italian masters are witnesses for
the physical ideal ; if that ideal, though impossible with man, be
possible with God, and therefore the goal toward which every man
should tend, even though he come short of it : then it may be
allowable for some at least among the writers of fiction to set
forth that ideal, and the author of the "Fool of Quality" may be
just as truly a novelist in his own way, as the authoress of
"Queechy" and the "Wide Wide World." There are those, in-
deed, still left on earth who believe the contemplation of the actual
(easy and amusing as it is) to be pernicious to most men without
a continual remembrance of the ideal ; who would not put into
young hands even that Shakspeare who tells them what men are,
without giving them, as a corrective, the Spenser and the Milton
who tell them what men might be ; who would even (theological
questions apart) recommend to the philosophical student of mere
human nature the four Gospels rather than Balzac. But such are,
doubtless, as Henry Brooke was, dreamers and idealists.
And if, again, a theology be possible, and an anthropology not
contradictory to, but founded on, that theology; if the old
Catholic dogma that the Son of Man was the likeness of his
Father's glory, and the express image of his person, may be believed
still (as it is by a lingering few among Christians), hi any honest
and literal practical sense ; if that be true which Mr. J. Stuart
}vi PREFACE.
Mill says in his late grand Essay upon Liberty, that "our popular
religious ethics, by holding out the hope of heaven and the threat
of hell, as the appointed and appropriate motives to a virtuous life,
fall far below the best of the ancients, and do what they can to
give to human morality an essentially selfish character ;" if by (as
Mr. Mill says) " discarding those so-called secular standards, derived
from Greek and Koman writers, which heretofore co-existed with
and supplemented ethics " (which should be called not Christian,
but monastic, and the " secular " correctives of which still remain,
thank God, in the teaching of our public schools, and of our two great
universities), " receiving some of its spirit, and infusing into it some
of theirs, there is even now resulting a low, abject, servile type of
character, which, submit itself as it may to what it deems the
Supreme will, is incapable of rising to or sympathizing in the con-
ception of Supreme goodness :" if this, or half of this, be true,
then it may be worth while for earnest men to consider well if these
seemingly impertinent sermonizings of Henry Brooke be not needed
now-a-days : even though he dares to tell his reader, and indeed to
take as his text throughout the book, that " all virtues, even justice
itself, are merely different forms of benevolence," and that " bene-
volence produces and constitutes the heaven or beatitude of God
himself. He is no other than an infinite and eternal GOOD WILL.
Benevolence must, therefore, constitute the beatitude or heaven of
all dependent beings."
It may be well, too, to see how, in his eyes, it was not only right
and useful, but possible likewise for a British nobleman of the 17th
century to copy God who made him ; how, in enforcing that dream
of hig, he did not disdain to use those apologues and maxims of
wise old heathens, which will live, we may hope, as long as an
English school and an English scholar exist on earth; how his
conception of the ideal of humanity, because it is founded on the
belief that that ideal is the very image of God, is neither " low,
abject, nor servile," but altogether chivalrous and heroic; and
lastly how, in his eyes, the humblest resignation and the loftiest
aspiration are so far from being contradictory virtues, that it is
only (so he holds) by rising to the " conception of the Supreme
goodness " that man can attain " submission to the Supreme will."
And when the reader has considered this, and more which he may
find in this book, he will irritate himself no more about defects of
outward method, but will be content to let the author teach his
own lesson in his own way, trusting (and he will not trust in vain)
that each seeming interruption is but a step forward in the moral
process at which the author aims ; and that there is full and conscious
consistency in Mr. Brooke's method, whether or not there be dramatic
unity in his plot. By that time also one may hope the earnest
PREFACE. Ivii
reader will have begun to guess at the causes which have made
this book forgotten for a while ; and perhaps to find them not in
its defects but in its excellencies ; in its deep and grand ethics, in
its broad and genial humanity, in the divine value which it
attaches to the relations of husband and wife, father and child ;
and to the utter absence both of that sentimentalism and that
superstition which have been alternately debauching of late
years the minds of the young. And if he shall have arrived at this
discovery, he will be able possibly to regard at least with patience
those who are rash enough to affirm that they have learnt from this
book more which is pure, sacred, and eternal, than from any which
has been published since Spenser's Fairy Queen.
So go forth once more, brave book, as God shall speed thee;
and wherever thou meetest, whether in peasant or in peer, with a
royal heart, tender and true, magnanimous and chivalrous, enter in
and dwell there ; and help its owner to become (as thou canst
help him) a Man, a Christian, and a Gentleman, as Henry Brooke
was before him.
C. KINGSLEY.
DRAMATIS PERSONS
RICHARD, EARL OF MORELAND, a dissolute nobleman.
LADY MOK ELAND, a citizen's daughter, whom he marries and settles
down with, after he has made up his mind to reform.
RICHARD, ' Lord Dickie,' their eldest son.
HENRY CLINTON, their second son, whom they neglect.
HENRY CLINTON, otherwise Mr. Fenton, the earl's brother, a wealthy
merchant, Harry's self-appointed guardian and instructor.
Mr. MEEKLY, a respected friend of the Morelands.
TOMMY TRUCK, a village urchin, who thrashes Lord Dickie and is
thrashed by Harry.
NED, a poor boy, befriended by Harry and Mr. Fenton.
Mr. VINDEX, a brutal schoolmaster [probably the original of Kingsley's
Vindex Brimblecombe].
HAMMEL CLEMENT, the persecuted son of a rich tradesman, rescued from
starvation by Mr. Fenton.
ARABELLA, his wife.
EDWARD LONGFIELD, a chivalrous young man, who defends Arabella
from the charge of murder, and afterwards falls in love with her.
Mr. SNARK, victim of Ned's practical joke.
Mr. and Mrs. FIELDING, Ned's long-lost parents.
THE EARL OF MANSFIELD, a sagacious nobleman.
LORD BOTTOM, his conceited and arrogant son.
LADY MANSFIELD, Lord Bottom's doting mother.
THE COUNTESS OF MAITLAND, otherwise Fanny Goodall, Marchioness
d'Aubigny, Duchess de Bouillon ; Henry Clinton the elder's cousin.
Mr. GOLDING, a wealthy merchant.
Miss GOLDING, his daughter, who marries Henry Clinton the elder.
Mrs. SUSAN, her favourite maid.
ELEANOR DAMER, a farmer's daughter.
BARNABY TIRREL, a chandler, her husband, who nearly kills her brother
Tom.
TOMMY DAMER, left for dead by Barnaby.
Mr. and Mrs. RUTH, prisoners for debt.
Mr. NIGGARD, a debtor, freed by Harry, but afterwards caught treating a
poor man unmercifully.
GIFFARD HOMELY, an unfortunate surety, formerly the saviour of Mr.
Fenton's life.
SIR WILLIAM THORNHILL, Homely's landlord and protector.
KING WILLIAM THE THIRD.
QUEEN MARY.
THE PRINCESS OF HESSE.
THE EARL OF PORTLAND.
GAFFER DOBSON, Harry's foster-father.
Mrs. DOBSON, Harry's nurse.
MARIA DE LAUSANNE, alias ' Pierre,' a girl who falls in love with Harry,
and follows him disguised as a youth.
ABENAMIN, otherwise Abenaide, daughter of Eloisa (Fanny GoodalPs
cousin) and the Emperor of Morocco ; Harry's bride.
lix
THE
FOOL OF QUALITY;
OR,
THE HISTORY OF HENRY EARL OF MORELAND.
CHAPTER I.
RICHARD, the grandfather of our hero, was ennobled by James
the First. He married a lovely girl of the ancient family of the
Goodalls, in the county of Surrey, and at seven years' distance had
two sons, Richard and Henry ; but, dying early in the reign of
Charles the First, he bequeathed 12,000 to his youngest, and near
20,000 annual income to his eldest son not in any personal pre-
ference to his brother, but as one who was to support the name
and honours of the family. He appointed his brother-in-law ex-
ecutor and guardian, who, educating the children agreeable to
their different fortunes and prospects in life, in about seven years
after the death of their father, sent Richard with a tutor to take
the tour of Europe, and bound Henry apprentice to a considerable
London merchant.
During the travels of the one and the apprenticeship of the other,
the troubles happened ; and Cromwell assumed the regency, before
the fortune of the Morelands could be forfeited or endangered, by
siding with the crown or the commonwealth.
Richard returned to England a short time before the Restoration ;
and, being too gay and too dissolute for the plodding and hypocrisy
of Cromwell and his fanatics, he withdrew to the mansion-house of
his forefathers.
On his landing, he had inquired for his brother Henry; but
hearing that he was lately married, and wholly absorbed in matters
of merchandise, as he had the utmost contempt for all cits and
traders, he took no further notice of him.
In the country, he amused himself with his bottle, hounds,
hawks, and race-horses ; but, on the restoration of his majesty, of
pleasurable memory, he hastened to court, where he rolled away
and shone as in his native sphere. He was always of the party
B
2 THE FOOL OF QUALITY.
of the king, Rochester, &c., where virtue was laughed out of
countenance and where all manner of dissoluteness became at-
tractive and recommendable by the bursts of merriment and zest of
wit. But toward the latter end of this droll reign, Earl Richard,
being advanced in age, and being still older in constitution than
years, began to think of providing an heir to his estate : and, as he
had taken vast pains to impair it, he married a citizen's daughter
who wanted a title, and with her got a portion of 100,000, which
was equally wanting on his part.
With his lady, he again retreated to the country, where, in less
than a year, she made him the exulting father of a fine boy, whom
he called Richard.
Richard speedily became the sole centre of all his mother's so-
licitudes and affections. And though within the space of the two
succeeding years she was delivered of a second boy, yet, as his
infant aspect was less promising and more uninformed than his
brother's, she sent him forth to be nursed by the robust wife of
a neighbouring farmer, where, for the space of upwards of four
years, he was honoured with no token from father or mother, save
some casual messages to know from time to time if the child was
in health.
This boy was called Henry, after his uncle by the father's side.
The earl had lately sent to London to make inquiry after his
brother, but could learn no manner of tidings concerning him.
Meanwhile, the education of the two children was extremely
contrasted. Richard, who was already entitled my little lord, was
not permitted to breathe the rudeness of the wind. On his slight-
est indisposition, the whole house was in alarms ; his passions had
full scope in all their infant irregularities; his genius was put
into a hotbed, by the warmth of applauses given to every flight
of his opening fancy; and the whole family conspired, from the
highest to the lowest, to the ruin of promising talents and a
benevolent heart.
Young Harry, on the other hand, had every member as well as
feature exposed to all weathers ; would run about, mother naked,
for near an hour, in a frosty morning; was neither physicked
into deh'cacy, nor flattered into pride ; scarce felt the convenience,
and much less understood the vanity of clothing; and was daily
occupied in playing and wrestling with the pigs and two mon-
grel spaniels on the common ; or in kissing, scratching, or boxing
with the children of the village.
When Harry had passed his fifth year, his father, on a festival
day, humbly proposed to send for him to his nurse, in order to
observe how the boy might turn out; and my lady, in a fit of
good-humour, assented. Nurse, accordingly, decked him out in
his holiday petticoats, and walked with our hero to the great
house, as they called it.
A brilliant concourse of the neighbouring gentry were met in
a vast parlour, that appeared to be executed after the model of
Westminster Hall.
There -syas Sir Christopher Cloudy, who knew much but said
nothing, with his very conversable lady, who scarce knew by halves,
THE FOOL OF QUALITY. 3
but spoke by wholesale. In the same range was Sir Standish
Stately, who in all companies held the first place in his own esteem.
Next to him sat Lady Childish ; it was, at least, thirty years since
these follies might have become her, which appeared so very
ridiculous at the age of fifty-five. By her side were the two
Stiltons; a blind man would swear that the one was a clown
and the other a gentleman, by the tones of their voices. Next to
these were two pair of very ill-mated turtles Mr. Gentle, who
sacrificed his fine sense and affluent fortune to the vanity and
bad temper of a silly and turbulent wife ; and Squire Sulky, a
brutal fool, who tyrannized over the most sensible and most ami-
able of her sex.
On the opposite side was Lord Prim, who evidently laboured
hard to be easy in conversation ; and next to him was Lord
Flippant, who spoke nonsense with great facility. By his side
sat the fair but dejected Miss Willow ; she had lately discovered
what a misfortune it was to be born to wit, beauty, and affluence,
the three capital qualifications that lead the sex to calamity. Next
to her was Colonel Jolly, with a heart ever tuned to merriment,
and lungs to laughter. Had he known how to time his fits, the
laugh might have grown catching. Below him was seated Mrs.
Mirror, a widow lady, industriously accomplished in the faults of
people of fashion. And below her sat the beloved and respected
Mr. Meekly, who always sought to hide behind the merits of the
company. Next to him was Major Settle no one spoke with more
importance on things of no signification. And beside him sat Miss
Lovely, who looked sentiment, and, while she was silent, inspired
others with sense and virtue.
These were the principal characters. The rest could not be said
to be of any character at all. The cloth had been lately removed,
and a host of glasses and decanters glowed on the table, when in
comes young Harry, escorted by his nurse.
All the eyes of the company were instantly drawn upon him;
but he advanced, with a vacant and unobserving physiognomy, and
thought no higher of the assembly than as of so many peasants
at a country wake.
Dicky, my dear, says my lady, go and welcome your brother;
whereat Dick went up, took Harry by the hand, and kissed him
with much affection. Harry, thereupon, having eyed his brother
I don't know you, said he, bluntly, but at the same time held up
his little mouth to kiss him again.
Dick, says my lady, put your laced hat upon Harry, that we may
see how it becomes him, which he immediately did; but Harry,
feeling an unusual encumbrance on his head, took off the hat, and,
having for some time looked contemptuously at it, he cast it from
him with a sudden and agile jerk, as he used to cast flat stones
to make ducks and drakes in the mill-pond. The hat took the
glasses and decanters in full career ; smash go the glasses, abroad
pours the wine on circling laces, Dresden aprons, silvered silks,
and rich brocades ; female screams filled the parlour ; the rout is
equal to the uproar ; and it was long ere most of them could be
composed to their places.
B2
4 THE FOOL OF QUALITY.
In the meanwhile, Harry took no kind of interest in their out-
cries or distresses ; but spying a larsre Spanish pointer, that just
then came from under the table, he sprung at him like lightning,
seized him by the collar, and vaulted on his back with inconceivable
agility. The dog, wholly disconcerted by so unaccustomed a bur-
den, capered and plunged about in a violent manner ; but Harry
was a better horseman than to be so easily dismounted : whereon
the dog grew outrageous, and, rushing into a group of little misses
and masters, the children of the visitants, he overthrew them like
nine-pins; thence proceeding with equal rapidity between the
legs of Mrs. Dowdy, a very fat and elderly lady, she instantly fell
back with a violent shriek, and, in her fall, unfortunately overthrew
Frank the foxhunter, who overthrew Andrew the angler, who over-
threw Bob the beau, who closed the catastrophe.
Our hero, meantime, was happily dismounted by the intercepting
petticoats, and fairly laid, without damage, in the fallen lady's
lap. From thence he arose at his leisure, and strolled about the
room with as unconcerned an aspect as if nothing had happened
amiss, and as though he had neither art nor part in this frightful
discomfiture.
When matters were once more, in some measure, set to rights
My heavens ! exclaimed my lady, I shall faint ! The boy is posi-
tively an idiot; he has no apprehension or conception of places
or things. Come hither, sirrah, she cried, with an angry tone;
but, instead of complying, Harry cast on her a look of resentment,
and sidled over toward his nurse. Dicky, my dear, said my lady,
go and pretend to beat his foster-mother, that we may try if the
child has any kind of ideas. Here her ladyship, by ill fortune,
was as much unadvised as her favourite was unhappy in the exe-
cution of her orders ; for while Dick struck at the nurse with
a counterfeited passion, Harry instantly reddened, and gave his
brother such a sudden push in the face, that his nose and mouth
gushed out with blood- Dick set up the roar ; my lady screamed
out, and, rising and running at Harry with all imaginable fury,
she caught him up as a falcon woukl truss a robin, turned over
his petticoats, and chastised him with all the violence of which
her delicacy was capable. Our hero, however, neither uttered cry
nor dropped a tear; but, being set down, he turned round on
the company an eye of indignation, then cried Come away,
mammy, and issued from the assembly.
Harry had scarce made his exit when his mother exclaimed
after him Ay, ay, take him away, nurse! take him away, the
little wretch, and never let me see his face more !
I shall not detain my reader with a tedious detail of the many
and differing opinions that the remaining company expressed with
regard to our hero ; let it suffice to observe, that they generally
agreed that, though the boy did not appear to be endowed by na-
ture with a single faculty of the animal rationale, he might, never-
theless, be rendered capable, hi time, of many places of very
honourable and lucrative employment.
Mr. Meekly alone, though so gentle and complying at other
times, now presumed to dissent from the sense of the company.
THE FOOL OF QUALITY 5
I rather hold, said he, that this infant is the promise of the greatest
philosopher and hero that our age is likely to produce. By refus-
ing his respect to those superficial distinctions which fashion has
inadequately substituted as expressions of human greatness, he
approves himself the philosopher; arid by the quickness of his
feelings for injured innocence, and his boldness in defending those
to whom his heart is attached, he approves himself at once the
hero and the man.
Harry had now remained six months more with his nurse, en-
gaged in his customary exercises and occupations. He was already,
by his courage, his strength, and action, become tremendous to all
the little boys of the village they had all things to fear from his
sudden resentment, but nothing from his memory or recollection
of a wrong; and this, also, was imputed to his native stupidity.
The two mongrel dogs were his inseparable playfellows ; they
were all tied together in the strictest bonds of friendship, and
caressed each other with the most warm and unfeigned aifection.
On a summer's day, as he strolled forth with these, his faithful
attendants, and rambled into a park whose gate he saw open, he
perceived, in a little copse that bordered on a fishpond, a stranger
seated on a bench of turf. Harry drew near with his usual intre-
pidity, till he observed that the man had a reverend beard that spread
over his breast ; that he held something in his hand on which he
gazed with a fixed attention ; and that the tears rolled down his
cheeks without ceasing, and in silence, except the half-suppressed
sobs that often broke from his bosom. Harry stood a while im-
moveable his little heart was affected he approached the old
man with a gentle reverence, and looking up in his face, and seat-
ing himself by his side, the muscles of his infant aspect began to
relax, and he wept and sobbed as fast as his companion.
CHAPTEE II.
THE old gentleman turned and gazed at the child, as on some
sudden apparition. His tears stopped. He returned the picture
which he held into his bosom; and, lifting up his eyes Great
Power, he cried, is this the one, of all the world, who has any
feelings for me? Is it this babe, this suckling, whom thou has
sent to be a partaker in my griefs, and the sharer of my afflictions ?
Welcome, then, my little friend, said he, tenderly turning and ca-
ressing the child ; I will live the longer for thy sake, and endeavour
to repay the tears thou hast shed in my behalf.
The language of true love is understood by all creatures, and
was that of which Harry had, almost, the only perception. He
returned his friend's caresses with unaffected ardour, and no two
could be more highly gratified in the endearments of each other.
What is your name, my dear? said the old gentleman. Harry
Clinton, sir. Harry Clinton! repeated the old man, and started.
And, pray, who is your father? The child then, looking tenderly
at him, replied I'll have you for a father, if you please, sir. The
6 THE FOOL OF QUALITY.
stranger then caught him up in his arms, and passionately ex-
claimed You shall, you shall, my darling, for the tenderest of
fathers, never to be torn asunder till death shall part us !
Then asking him where he lived, and Harry pointing to the
town before them, they both got up and went towards it. Our
hero was now again all glee, all action ; he sprung from and to
his friend, and played and gamboled about him, like a young
spaniel in a morning just loosed from his chain, and admitted to
accompany his master to the field. As his two dogs frisked about
him, he would now mount upon one, then bound upon the other,
and each pranced and paraded under him as delighted with the
burden. The old gentleman beheld all with a pleasure that had
long been a stranger to his breast, and shared in the joys of his
young associate.
Being arrived near the farm-house, nurse, who stood at the door,
saw them approaching, and cried out Gaffer, Gaffer, here comes
our Harry with the dumb gentleman ! When they were come up
Good people, says the stranger, is this your child ? No, no, sir, an-
swered the nurse, we are but his fosterers. And, pray, who is his
father? He is second son, sir, to the Earl of Moreland. The Earl
of Moreland ! you amaze me greatly ; is this all the notice and care
they take of such a treasure ? Sir, replied the nurse, they never
sent for him but once ; they don't mind him they take him for a
fool For a fool ! cried he, and shook his head in token of dissent ;
I am sure he has the wisest of all human hearts. I wish it may be
so, sir, said the nurse, but he behaved very sadly, some time ago, at
the great house. She then made a recital of all our young hero's
adventures in the mansion parlour ; whereat the old gentleman in-
wardly chuckled, and for the first time, of some years, permitted his
features to relax into a smile of cheerfulness.
Nurse, said he, every thing that I hear and see of this child, serves
the more to endear and bind me to him. Pray, be so good as to
accompany us to my house : we will try to equip him better both
as to person and understanding.
As this stranger's seat made part of the village, they were soon
there. He first whispered his old domestic, who then looked upon
the child with surprise and pleasure. The footman was next sent
to bring the tailor, and some light stuffs from the town shop. Mat-
ters being thus despatched with respect to our hero's first coat and
breeches, nurse was kept to dinner ; and after this gentleman had
entertained his young guest with a variety of little tricks, childish
plays, and other fooleries, toward evening he dismissed him and his
nurse, with a request that she would send him every day, and a
promise that he should be returned every night if she desired it.
Harry, being thus furnished with the external tokens of a man-
child having been born into the world, became an inseparable friend
and playfellow to his patron. At times of relaxation, the old gentle-
man, with the most winning and insinuating address, endeavoured
to open his mind and cultivate his morals, by a thousand little
fables ; such as of bold sparrows and naughty kids that were carried
away by the hawk, or devoured by the wolf, and of good robins and
innocent lambs that the very hawks and wolves themselves were
THE FOOL OF QUALITY. 7
fond of; for he never proposed any encouragement or reward to the
heart of our hero, save that of the love and approbation of others.
At the times of such instruction, Harry, who knew no other de-
pendence, and beheld his patron as his father and his God, would
hang upon his knee, look up to his face delighted, and greedily
imbibe the sweetness of those lessons whose impressions, neither
age, nor any occurrence, could ever after erase ; so prevalent are
the dictates of lips that are beloved !
At other times, the stranger would enter with our hero into all
his little frolics and childish vagaries, would run and wrestle with
him, ride the rods, roll down the slope, and never felt such sweet
sensations and inward delight as when he was engaged in such
recreations.
There was a cock at Harry's nurse's the lord of the dunghill
between whom and our hero a very particular intimacy and friend-
ship had been contracted. Harry's hand was his daily caterer;
and Dick, for the cock was so called, would hop into the child's
lap and pick his clothes, and rub his feathers against him, and
court Harry to tickle and stroke and play with him.
Upon Shrove Tuesday, while Harry was on his road from his
patron's, intending a short visit to his nurse and foster-father, a lad
came to the door and offered Gaffer a double price for Dick ; the
bargain was quickly made and the lad bore off his prize in triumph,
and Gaffer withdrew to the manuring of a back field. Just at this
crisis Harry came up, and inquired of the maid for his daddy and
mammy, but was answered that neither of them was within. He
then asked after his favourite cock, but was told that his daddj
had, that minute, sold him to yonder man, who was almost out o*
sight.
Away sprung our hero like an arrow from a bow, and held tha
man in view till he saw him enter a great crowd at the upper end
of the street. Up he comes at last, quite out of breath, and, mak
ing way through the assembly, perceived his cock, at some distance
tied to a short stake, and a lad preparing to throw at him with a
stick. Forward he rushed again, and stopped resolutely before his
bird to ward the blow with his own person, at the instant that the
stick had taken its flight, and that all the people cried out, Hold !
hold ! One end of the stick took Harry on the left shoulder, and
bruised him sorely ; but not regarding that, he instantly stooped,
delivered his captive favourite, whipt him under his arm, caught
up the stick, flourished it as in defiance of all opponents, made
homeward through the crowd, and was followed by the acclama-
tions of the whole assembly.
The old gentleman was standing before his court door when his
favourite arrived all in a sweat. What's the matter, my dear,
says he ? What made you put yourself into such a heat ? What
cock is that you have under your arm ? In answer to these seve-
ral questions, Harry ingenuously confessed the whole affair ; and
when his patron with some warmth cried Why, my love, did
you venture your life for a silly cock ? Why did I ? repeated the
child ! why, sir, because he loved me. The stranger then, stepping
back, and gazing upon him with eyes of tender admiration May
8 THE FOOL OF QUALITY.
heaven for ever bless thee, my little angel, he exclaimed, and
continue to utter from thy lips the sentiments that it inspires!
Then, catching him up in his arms, he bathed him with his tears,
and almost stifled him with his caresses.
In a few days our hero was again restored, by frequent fomenta-
tions, to the use of his arm, and his dada, as he called him, and
he, returned to their old recreations.
As Harry's ideas began to open and expand, he grew ambitious
of greater power and knowledge. He wished for the strength of
that bull, and for the swiftness of yonder horse ; and on the close
of a solemn and serene summer's evening, while he and his patron
walked in the garden, he wished for wings, that he might fly up
and see what the sky, and the stars, and the rising moon, were
made of.
In order to reform this inordinancy of his desires, his patron ad-
dressed him in the following manner :
I will tell you a story, my Harry. On the other side of yonder
hill there runs a mighty clear river, and in that river, on a time,
there lived three silver trouts the prettiest little fishes that any
one ever saw. Now, God took a great liking and love to these
pretty silver trouts, and he let them want for nothing that such
little fishes could have occasion for ; but two of them grew sad and
discontented, and the one wished for this thing, and the other
wished for that thing, and neither of them could take pleasure in
any thing that they had, because they were always longing for
something that they had not.
Now, Harry, you must know that all this was very naughty in
those two little trouts, for God had been exceedingly kind to them :
he had given them every thing that was fittest for them, and he
never grudged them any thing that was for their good; but, in-
stead of thanking him for all his care and his kindness, they blamed
him in their own minds for refusing them any thing that their
silly fancies were set upon ; in short, there was no end of their
wishing, and longing, and quarrelling in their hearts, for this thing
and the other.
At last God was so provoked, that he resolved to punish their
naughtiness by granting their desires, and to make the folly of
those two little stubborn trouts an example to all the foolish fish
in the whole world.
For this purpose, he called out to the three little silver trouts,
and told them they should have whatever they wished for.
Now the eldest of these trouts was a very proud little fish, and
wanted, forsooth, to be set up above all other little fishes. May
it please your greatness, says he, I must be free to tell you that
I do not, at all, like the way in which you have placed me. Here
?ou have put me into a poor, narrow, and troublesome river, where
am straitened on the right side, and straitened on the left side,
and can neither get down into the ground, nor up into the air, nor
go where, nor do any thing I have a mind to do. I am not so
blind, for all, but that I can see well enough how mighty kind and
bountiful you can be to others. There are your favourite little
birds, who fly this way and that way, and mount up to the very
THE FOOL OF QUALITY. 9
heavens, and do whatever they please, and have every thing at
command, because you have given them wings. Give me such
wings also as you have given to them, and then I shall have some-
thing for which I ought to thank you.
No sooner ask than have. He felt the wings he wished for
growing from either side, and, in a minute, he spread them abroad,
and rose out of the water. At first he felt a wonderful pleasure
in finding himself able to fly. He mounted high into the air, above
the very clouds, and he looked down with scorn on all the fishes
in the world.
He now resolved to travel, and to take his diversion far and
wide. He flew over rivers and meadows, and woods and moun-
tains ; till, growing faint with hunger and thirst, his wings began
to fail him, and he thought it best to come down to get some re-
freshment.
The little fool did not consider that he was now in a strange
country, and many a mile from the sweet river where he was born
and bred, and had received all his nourishment. So, when he
came down, he happened to alight among dry sands and rocks,
where there was not a bit to eat, nor a drop of water to drink ;
and so there he lay faint and tired, and unable to rise, gasping
and fluttering and beating himself against the stones, till at length
he died in great pain and misery.
Now the second silver trout, though he was not so high-minded
as the first little proud trout, yet he did not want for conceit
enough ; and he was, moreover, a narrow-hearted and very selfish
little trout, and, provided he himself was snug and safe, he did
not care what became of all the fishes in the world. So he says
to God-
May it please your honour, I don't wish, not I, for wings to fly
out of the water, and to ramble into strange places, where I don't
know what may become of me. I lived contented and happy
enough till the other day, when, as I got under a cool bank from
the heat of the sun, I saw a great rope coming down into the
water, and it fastened itself, I don't know how, about the gills
of a little fish that was basking beside me, and he was lifted out
of the water, struggling and working in great pain, till he was
carried, I know not where, quite out of my sight ; so I thought in
my own mind, that this evil some time or other may happen to
myself, and my heart trembled within me, and I have been very
sad and discontented ever since. Now, all I desire of you is, that
you would tell me the meaning of this, and of all the other dangers
to which you have subjected us, poor little mortal fishes ; for then
I shall have sense enough to take care of my own safety, and
I am very well able to provide for my own living, I warrant you.
No sooner said than clone. God immediately opened his under-
standing ; and he knew the nature and meaning of snares, nets,
hooks, and lines, and of all the dangers to which such little trouts
could be liable.
At first he greatly rejoiced in this his knowledge ; and he said
to himself Now surely I shall be the happiest of all fishes; for
as I understand and am forewarned of every mischief that can
10 THE FOOL OF QUALITY.
come near me, I'm sure I love myself too well not to keep out
of harm's way.
From this time forward he took care not to go into any deep
holes, for fear that a pike or some other huge fish might be
there, who would make nothing of swallowing him up at one
He also kept away from the shallow places, especially in hot
weather, lest the sun should dry them up, and not leave him
water enough to swim in. When he saw the shadow of a cloud
coming and moving upon the river Aha ! said he to himself, here
are the fishermen with their nets ; and immediately he got on one
side and skulked under the banks, where he kept trembling in his
skin till the cloud was past. Again, when he saw a fly skimming
on the water, or a worm coming down the stream, he did riot dare
to bite, however hungry he might be No, no, said he to them,
my honest friends, I am not such a fool as that comes to neither ;
go your ways and tempt those who know no better, who are not
aware that you may serve as baits to some treacherous hook that
lies hid for the destruction of those ignorant and silly trouts that
are not on their guard.
Thus this over-careful trout kept himself in continual frights
and alarms, and could neither eat, nor drink, nor sleep in peace,
lest some mischief should be at hand, or that he might be taken
napping. He daily grew poorer and poorer, and sadder and
sadder, for he pined away with hunger, and sighed himself to skin
and bone ; till, wasted almost to nothing with care and melan-
choly, he at last died, for fear of dying, the most miserable of all
deaths.
Now, when God came to the youngest silver trout, and asked
him what he wished for Alas ! said this darling little trout, you
know, may it please your worship, that I am but a very foolish
and good for nothing little fish ; and I don't know, not I, what is
good for me or what is bad for me ; and I wonder how I came to
be worth bringing into the world, or what you could see in me
to take any thought about me. But, if I must wish for something,
it is that you would do with me whatsoever you think best ; and
that I should be pleased to live or die, even just as you would
have me.
Now, as soon as this precious trout made this prayer hi his good
and humble little heart, God took such a liking and a love to him
as the like was never known. And God found it in his own heart,
that he could not but take great care of this sweet little trout,
who had trusted himself so wholly to his love and good pleasure ;
and God went wheresoever he went, and was always with him and
about him, and was to him as a father, and friend, and companion :
and he put contentment into his mind, and joy into his heart;
and so this little trout slept always in peace, and wakened in glad-
ness ; and, whether he was full or hungry, or whatever happened
to him, he was still pleased and thankful ; and he was the happiest
of all fishes that ever swam in any water.
Harry, at the close of this fable, looked down and grew thought-
ful, and his patron left him to himself to ruminate on what he had
TEE FOOL OF QUALITY. 11
heard. Now, Harry had often heard talk of God, and had some
general though confused notions of his power.
The next day he requested his patron to repeat the story of the
three little silver trouts. When he had ended Dada, says Harry,
I believe I begin to guess a little at what you mean. You would
not have me wish for any thing, but leave every thing to God;
and if I thought that God loved me half as well as you love me,
I would leave every thing to himself, like the good little trout.
He does, my Harry; he loves you a thousand times better than
I love you, nay, a thousand times better than you love yourself.
God is all love ; it is he who made every thing, and he loves every
thing that he has made. Ay, but dada, 1 can't, for the heart of
me, help pitying the two poor little naughty trouts. If God loves
every thing, why did he make any thing to die? You begin to
think too deeply, Harry; we will speak more of these matters
another time. For the present, let it suffice to know, that as he
can kill, he can also make alive again, at his own pleasure.
Harry had now remained about twelve months with his patron,
when it was intimated to the earl and his lady that the dumb man
had taken a fancy to their child, and that he was almost constantly
resident at his house. Alarmed at this news, and apprehending
that this man might be some impostor or kidnapper, they once
more sent orders to the nurse to bring the boy home.
Nurse ran in a hurry to the stranger's, and, having informed
him of the necessity she was under to take away the child, many
mutual tears were shed at parting; but Harry was the sooner
pacified when nurse told him that it was but for a short visit, as
before.
When they came to the castle, there was no company in the
parlour but the earl and his lady, with Lord Eichard and some
other masters of quality, about his age and size, Harry, however,
looked about with a brow of disgust ; and when my lady desired
him to come and kiss her May be you'll whip me, he answered
suddenly. No, she replied, if you don't strike your brother Dicky
any more. I won't beat him, says Harry, if he won't beat mammy.
Come then and kiss me, my dear, said my lady; whereon Harry
advanced with a slow caution, and held up his little mouth to
receive her salute. He was then kissed by his father, his brother,
and the little masters, and all things promised future reconcilement
and amity.
A number of glittering toys were then presented to Harry on
all sides; he received them, indeed, in good part, but laid them
all aside again, as things of whose use he yet was not wise enough
to be apprehensive.
Friend. Is it not too early for your hero to shew a contempt
of toys?
^ Author. My lady, as you will see, imputed it to his folly, not to
his philosophy.
Friend. But children have a natural fondness for fine things.
Author. How so? is there a natural value in them?
Friend. No. But
12 THE FOOL OF QUALITY.
Author. Education, inrleed, has made the fondness next to na-
tural; the coral and bells teach infants on the breasts to be de-
lighted with sound and glitter. Has the child of an inhabitant of
Monomotapa a natural fondness for garbage ?
Friend. I think not.
Author. But when he is instructed to prize them, and sees it to be
the fashion to be adorned with such things, he prefers them to the
glitter of gold and pearl. Tell me, was it the folly, or philosophy,
of the cock in the fable, that spurned the diamond, and wished
for the barley-corn?
Friend. The moral says that it was his folly, that did not know
how to make a right estimate of things.
Author. A wiser moral would say it was his philosophy, that did
know how to make a right estimate of things ; for of what use
could the diamond be to the cock ? In the age of acorns, antecedent
to Ceres and the royal ploughman Triptolemus, a single barley-corn
had been of more value to mankind than all the diamonds that
glowed in the mines of India.
Friend. You see, however, that age, reflection, and philosophy,
can hardly wean people from their early fondness for show.
Author. I see, on the contrary, that the older they grow, and the
wiser they think themselves, the more they become attached to
trifles. What would you think of a sage minister of state, who
should make it the utmost height of his wishes and ambition to
be mounted on a hobby-horse ?
Friend. You can't be serious for the soul of you.
Author. It has been seriously, and truly, and literally the fact :
for Haman being asked by the greatest monarch upon earth, what
should be done most desirable for the man whom the king delighted
to honour ? he answered (in the persuasion that he himself was the
person), " Let the royal apparel be brought, and let him be arrayed
therewith, and let him be put upon the horse that the king us'eth
to ride, and let him be brought through the street, and have it
proclaimed before him, Thus shall it be done to the man whom
the king delighteth to honour." What shall we say here ? could
the sage and ambitious Haman think of nothing better than what
would have suited the request of a child of five years old ? or was
it that the Emperor of Asia, or this world itself, had nothing more
valuable to bestow than a fine coat and a hobby-horse ?
Friend. How many volumes do you expect this work will
contain ?
Author. Sir, a book may be compared to the life of your neigh-
bour. If it be good it cannot last too long ; if bad, you cannot
get rid of it too early.
Friend. But how long, I say, do you propose to make your
story ?
Author. My good friend, the reader may make it as short as he
pleases.
THE FOOL OF QUALITY. 13
CHAPTER III.
MY lady, piqued thereat, told the earl that she resolved once more
to prove the wits of the youngster ; and, whispering to Dicky, he
immediately went out and took with him his companions. Soon
after, Dick returns without his shoes, and with a pitiful face, cries
Brother Harry, I want a pair of shoes sadly, will you give me
yours ? Yes, I will, said Harry, and instantly strips, and presents
them to him. Then entered another boy, and demanded his stockings
in the like petitioning manner ; another begged his hat, another
his coat, another his waistcoat, all of which he bestowed without
hesitation ; but when the last boy came in and petitioned for his
shirt No, I won't, said Harry, a little moody, I want a shirt
myself. My lady then exclaimed, Upon my honour, there is but
the thickness of a bit of linen between this child and a downright
fool. But my lord rose up, took Harry in his arms, and having
tenderly embraced him God bless thee, my boy, he cried, and
make thee an honour to Old England!
Dinner, soon after, was ordered up, and Harry permitted his
nurse to retire peaceably to the kitchen during the interval, as
he and all the masters were then on terms of amity.
My lady placed Harry next herself at table, but no peer ever
Eaid such a price at Pontac's as our distressed hero did that day
>r his ordinary : for he must sit up just so, and hold his knife and
fork just so, and cut his meat, and open his mouth, and swallow his
victuals, just so and so and so. And then between every two words
there were to be so many my lords and my ladies, and I thank you,
sir, and I thank you, madam, and master this, and master that, that
poor Harry, no longer able to contain himself, cried I wish I was
with my mammy in the kitchen.
After dinner the children were set to questions and commands ;
but here our hero was beaten hollow, as he was afterward at draw-
g'ove and shuffle the slipper. They next came to hot cockles, and
arry being first down, had his left hand well-warmed for near a
quarter of an hour, till, more by good-luck than any good policy,
he fixed upon a delicate little gentleman, the son and heir of
Lord and Lady Toilet, who lay down accordingly; when Harry,
endeavouring to sum all the favours he had received in one pay-
ment, gave master such a whirrick, that his cries instantly sounded
the ne plus ultra to such kind of diversions. But Harry being
chidden for his rudeness, and obliged to ask pardon, all was soon
whole again.
Now, throughout these several amusements, though this group of
little quality behaved themselves with great good manners towards
our hero : yet, as my lady's judgment of his intellects became
current through the country, and that all took him to be little
removed from a natural, these small gentry also held him in the
lowest contempt, and gave themselves secret credit for the decency
of their conduct in his behalf.
Two or three of them, however, having maliciously contrived to
14 THE FOOL OF QUALITY.
set him in a ridiculous light, prevailed upon his brother to join in
the plot. They accordingly proposed a play, wherein Harry was
enjoined to stand in the centre for so many minutes, without motion
or resentment, let his companions do what they would about him.
Our hero, consequently, fixed himself to a posture and counte-
nance altogether determined, when the attack instantly began;
some grinned, some pointed, some jeered and shouted at him, some
twitched him by the hair, some pinched him by the arm, one
tweaked him by the nose, and another spirted water full in his
face ; but Harry bore all with the firmness and resignation of a
stoic philosopher, till my lady, quite impatient, cried out Did you
ever see the like ? such a stock of a child, such a statue ! Why,
he has no kind of feeling either of body or mind.
While she was pronouncing these words, young Skinker, eldest
son to a wealthy squire, a chubbed unlucky boy, about the age of
Lord Richard, put one hand within the other, and desired Harry
to strike thereon, which he did accordingly ; but feeling unusual
smart, and fired at the treachery that he, justly, conceived was in
the case, Harry gave him such a sudden fist in the temple as drove
him staggering backward several steps. Skinker, wholly enraged,
and conscious of superior strength, immediately returned, and with
all his might gave Harry a stroke on the head, which compliment he
returned by a punch in the eye, as rapid as lightning. All the boys
stood aloof and amazed at the combat. My lady vehemently cried
out to part them ; but my lord rose and peremptorily commanded
fair-play. Meanwhile young Skinker, wholly desperate to be foiled
by one so much his inferior in strength and understanding, flew on
Harry like a fury, and fastened the nails of both his hands on his
face, from which gripe our hero as quickly disengaged himself by
darting his head into the nose and mouth of his adversary, who
was instantly covered with blood, though his passion would not
permit him to attend to the pain ; for, exerting his last effort, he
closed in on our little champion, and determined at once to finish
the combat by lifting and dashing him against the ground ; but
Harry, finding himself going, nimbly put one foot behind, and hit
Skinker in the ham, and at the same time pushing forward with
all his force, prone fell the unfortunate Skinker, precipitated by
the double weight of himself and his antagonist, and his head re-
bounded against the floor, while up sprung Harry, and, with a
punch in the stomach of Skinker, put a period to the fray.
All dismayed and wholly discomforted, Skinker slowly arose, and
began to cry most piteously. His companions then gathered about
him, and, compassionating his plight, turned an eye of indignation
upon the victor ; all promiscuously exclaimed O fie, Master Harry,
1 am quite ashamed ; Master Harry, you gave the first blow ; it
was you that gave the first blow, Master Harry ! To all which re-
proaches Harry surlily replied If I gave first blow he gave first
hurt.
Come, come, said my lord, there must be something more in
this affair than we are yet acquainted with. Come hither, Master
Skinker, tell me the truth, my dear; what was it you did to
Harry that provoked him to strike you? Indeed, sir, said Skinker,
THE FOOL OF QUALITY. 15
I did not intend to hurt him so much. When I gave him one
hand to strike, I held a pin within side in the other, but the pin
run up farther than I thought for. Go, go, said my lord, you
deserve what you have got. You are an ill-hearted boy, and shall
not come here to play any more.
My lady then called Harry, desired to look at his hand, and found
the palm covered with blood. This she w r ashed away, and, having
found the wound, she put a small bit of black sticking silk to the
orifice, and Harry instantly held himself as sound a man as ever.
It was then that, instead of exulting or crowing over his adver-
sary, he began to relax into melancholy and dejection, and sideling
over toward Skinker, and looking wistfully in his face If, said
Harry, with a trembling lip, if you will kiss and be friends with
me, I'll never beat you any more. To this overture Skinker was,
with a sullen reluctance, persuaded by his companions ; and from
that moment the victor began to gain ground in the heart and
good graces both of father and mother.
Night now approached, the candles were lighted up, and the
children took a short and slight repast. Master Dicky then pri-
vately whispering to his mamma, desired her not to be frightened
at what she might see, and immediately withdrew. In a short
time he returned, and, gathering all his little companions into a
group in the centre of the parlour, held them a while in chat;
when, O tremendous! a back door flew open, and in glided a
most terrifying and horrible apparition ; the body and limbs from
the neck downwards were wrapt in a winding sheet ; and the head,
though fear could not attend to its form, appeared wholly illu-
minated with flames, that glared through the eyes, mouth, and
nostrils.
At sight hereof, Master Dicky, appearing the first to be fright-
ened, screamed out, and ran behind his mamma's chair, as it were
for protection: the panic grew instantly contagious, and all this
host of little gentry, who were hereafter to form our senates, and
to lead our armies, ran shrieking and. shivering to hide themselves
in holes and to tremble in corners.
Our hero, alone, stood undaunted, though concerned ; and like
an astronomer, who with equal dread and attention contemplates
some sudden phenomenon in the heavens, which he apprehends
to be sent as an ensign or forerunner to the fall of mighty states,
or dispeopling of nations, so Harry, with bent and apprehensive
brows, beheld and considered the approaching spectre.
He had never heard nor formed any idea of ghosts or hob-
goblins ; he therefore stood to deliberate what he had to fear
from it. It still advanced upon him, nor had he yet budged ;
when his brother cried out, from behind my lady's chair Beat it,
Harry ; beat it ! On the instant, Harry flew back to the corner
next the hall, and catching up his staff, the trophy of Shrove
Tuesday, he returned upon the spectre, and aiming a noble blow
at the illuminated sconce, he at once smashed the outward lan-
tern, drove the candle, flame and all, into the mouth of him who
held it, and opened his upper lip from the nose to the teeth. Out
spouted the blood as from a spigot. The ghost clapped all the
16 THE FOOL OF QUALITY.
} lands that he had to his mouth, and slunk away, to shew to his
friends in the kitchen how he had been baffled and mauled by an
infant of seven summers.
Heaven preserve us! cried my lady; we shall have nothing
but broils and bloodshed in the house while this child is among
us. Indeed, my dear, replied the earl, if there was any thing
more than mere accident in this business, it was the fault of your
favourite Dicky, who desired the boy to strike.
By this time, the little gentry came all from their lurking-holes,
though yet pale and unassured; and, whatever contempt they
might have for the intellects of Harry, they had now a very sin-
cere veneration for his prowess.
Bed-time now approaching, and all being again settled Harry,
says my lord, you have been a very good boy to-day, and have
joined with your companions in all their little plays ; now, if you
have any plays to shew them, I am sure they will have the good
manners to do as you desire. What say you, Harry? have you
any play to shew them ? Yes, sir, said Harry, I have a many of
them ; there's, first, leap-frog, and thrush-a-thrush. To it, then,
Harry, says my lord; and pray, all you little gentlemen, do you
observe his directions.
No sooner said than done. Harry took his companions one by
one, and causing them to stoop, with their heads toward the
ground in a long line, and at certain distances each before the other,
he returned to the tail, and, taking the advantage of a short run
to quicken his motion, he laid his hands on the back of the hind-
most, and vaulting lightly over him, he, with amazing rapidity,
flew along the whole line, clearing a man at every motion, till he
alighted before the foremost, and down he popped in the posture
of those behind.
My lady, in utter astonishment, lifting up her hands and eyes,
exclaimed the fine creature ! O the graceful creature ! if there
was but a mind to match that body, there would not be such
another boy in the universe.
Lord Kichard, being now hindmost, was the next who adven-
tured, and, with action enough, cleared his two first men ; but
then, having lost the advantage of his run, and his foreman being
of more than ordinary size, he first stuck upon his back, and pitch-
ing thence, broke his forehead against the floor. He got up, how-
ever, with a pleasant countenance, and, running alongside the line,
set himself in his former posture before his brother. The hind-
most then, and then the next, and the next, and so onward, took
their turns in succession, without any better success. The one
bruised his shoulder, another sprained his finger, another bumped
his head, another broke his nose, &c. &c. So that in less than five
minutes my lady had got an hospital of her own, though not alto-
gether consisting of incurables.
Now, spirits and vinegar, brown paper, black plaster, &c., were
called for in a hurry, and the several stupes and dressings being
skilfully applied, the children were ordered to their respective
beds ; and nurse was prevailed upon to continue with Harry till
he should be reconciled to his new friends and associates.
THE FOOL OF QUALITY. 17
Harry was now become a favourite, especially among the ser-
vants, who, in a manner, adored him since the adventure of the
box and the hobgoblin.
Friend. Hobgoblin : in good time. Nothing amazes me so much
as the terrifying apprehensions that the world, from the beginning,
has universally entertained of ghosts and spectres.
Author. Do you fear them?
Friend. No I can't say not much something of this for-
merly. I should not like, even now, to lie alone, in a remote
chamber of a ruinous castle said to be haunted, and have my cur-
tains, at midnight, opened suddenly upon me by a death's-head
and bloody bones. All nonsense I know it, the early prejudices of
a dastardly fancy I fear, while I am convinced there is nothing to
be feared. Do you think there is any such thing in nature as
a spirit?
Author. I know not that there is any such thing in nature as
matter.
Friend. Not know there is any such thing as matter ? You love
to puzzle to throw lets into the road of common-sense. What
else do you know? From what else can you form any kind of
idea ?
Author. The room is warm enough, more heat is needless. I
know that thoughts and conceptions are raised in my mind ; but
how they are raised, or that they are adequate images of things
supposed to be represented, I know not. What if this something,
or this nothing, called matter, should be a shadow, a vacuum in
respect of spirit, wholly resistless to it and pervadable by it ? Or
what if it be no other than a various manifestation of the several
good and evil qualities of spirit ? If one infinite spirit, as is said,
fills the universe, all other existence must be but as the space
wherein he essentially abides and exists; indeed, they could not
be produced, or continued for a moment, but by his existing omni-
potently, indivisibly, entirely, in and throughout every part.
Friend. This is new, very new ; but I will not batter my brains
against your castle. According to your thesis, when a man is ap-
prehensive of a spirit or spectre, it is not of shadow but of sub-
stance that he is afraid.
Author. Certainly ; his principal apprehension arises from his
believing it more sufficient, more powerful, and more formidable,
than himself.
Friend. Excuse me, there are more tremendous reasons. On the
supposition of an engagement, those sort of invisible gentry have
many advantages over us. They give a man no manner of fair-
play. They have you here, and have you there, and your best
watch and ward is no better than fencing against an invisible
flail. But, seriously, do you think we have any innate fears of
these matters?
Author. All our fears arise from the sense of our own weakness,
and of the power and inclination that others may have to hurt us.
Friend. If our horror of apparitions is not innate, how comes it
to pass that soldiers, that general officers, who dare all other
c
18 THE FOOL OF QUALITY.
danger ; that heroes, who, like Brutus, have given death to them-
selves, or who have been led to execution without a changing
cheek have yet dreaded to lie alone, or to be left in the dark ?
Author. We all see that a spirit has vast power. Nothing else,
in truth, can have any power at alL We perceive, by ourselves
and others, with what ease it can act upon what we call matter ;
how it moves, how it lifts it. Perhaps, were our spirits detached
from this distempered prison, to which the degeneracy of our
fallen nature has confined them, they might more easily whirl
a mountain through the atmosphere, than they can now cast a
pebble into the air. The consideration of this power, when joined
to malevolence, as is generally the case, becomes very tremendous.
The stories told by nurses and gossips about a winter's fire, when
the young auditors crouch closer and closer together, and dare not
look atxmt for fear of what may be behind them, leave impressions
that no subsequent reason or religion can efface. The ideas of
an apparition, on these occasions, are connected with all the horror
of wliich infant imaginations can be susceptible ; fangs, horns, a
threatening mien, saucer eyes, a flaming breath, and a deadly
aspect. When children are told of fairies who carry off people to
dwell with them under ground; and of evil spirits who snatch
away soul and body together, to be their associates in regions of
darkness and woe the fear of such evils greatly surpasses those
of death, as it weds misery to existence beyond the grave. On
the contrary side, had spirits been originally represented to infants
as beings of an amiable appearance, and as guardians benevolent
and beneficent to man ; had they further deigned to visit us under
such representations; and, had we experienced the advantage of
their instructions and good offices we should have met them with
transport, and have parted with regret
Friend. I observe that, as our female antiquarians drop off, our
faith in spectres perceptibly decays. We have not the fiftieth
story, either propagated or believed, that was credited as gospel
when I was a boy. What think you, is it for, or against religion,
that such fables should get footing amongst mankind ?
Author. I never could think it for the interest of religion, that
the providence of God should be elbowed, as it were, quite out of
the world by a system of demonism. On the other hand, I take
the devil to be a personage of much more prudence than to
frighten his favourites from him, by assuming such horrid and
disgustful appearances. He rather chooses to lurk behind tempta-
tion, in the allurement of beauty, the deceitfulness of smiles, the
glozing of compliments, in revel and banqueting, in titles and
honours, in the glitter of ornament, and in the pomp of state.
When God sends his spirits on messages to man, there is a mean-
ing of importance in the errand. Such was that of his angel to
Manoah, for the delivery of a people ; and to Zacharias and the
blessed virgin, for the redemption of human-kind. But when the
devil is said to send his emissaries throughout the earth, on what
errands does this arch politician employ them? Even such as
could suit no other than a dunce or a driveller. I never yet heard
of one of these missions that could be construed to any intention
THE FOOL OF QUALITY. 19
of cunning or common-sense. I therefore hold the legends of his
ghostly visitation to be altogether apocryphal.
Friend. Every man of common-sense must be of the same opinion.
And yet, have you known any person wholly free from such pre-
judices, who made no distinction, on this fantastical article, between
darkness and mid-day, between a lonely charnel-house and a full
assembly ?
Author. I have ; but they were men of exceeding strong nerves,
as also of exceeding clear, or exceeding callous consciences, which,
coming from opposite points, equally met for the same purpose on
this occasion.
Two travellers, the one a man of piety, the other a profligate,
met at a country inn just as night came upon them. It was
Hallowtide-Eve, the season, in those days, wherein the devil was
said to keep high carnival, and when all the inhabitants of the
visionary regions were supposed to revel and range throughout
the earth at pleasure.
For want of better company our travellers made up an acquaint-
ance, and further cemented it by a jug of good liquor. The night
was dark- The girls of the house had new-washed their smocks,
to be hung to the fire, and turned by the ghostly resemblances of
their sweethearts: and the conversation, in the kitchen, ran on
many an authentic narrative of spectres, and particularly on the
man in gibbets who hung by the road, and who was reported,
between twelve and one at midnight, to descend from the gallows,
and take just three turns about the old barn.
Do you believe any of this droll stuff? said the profligate. I
know not what to think, answered his pious companion ; I find all
the world in the same story, and yet, as the saying is, I never saw
any thing more frightful than myself. As for my share, said the
profligate, I think I should not fear the great devil himself; and
indeed I should be glad to have a little chat with the old gentle-
man. Stout as you are, rejoined his companion, I will lay you
a bet of five crowns that you dare not warm a porringer of broth,
and go, and offer it without there, to the man in the gibbets. I
will depend on your honour for performance of articles. 'Tis done,
cried the other. The bets were produced, and respectively de-
posited in the hands of my landlady.
Our pious traveller, who now began to be alarmed for his wager,
stole slily out, while his companion was busied in heating the
broth. He made up to the place where the deceased malefactor
was taking the fresh air. The gallows was low, and, by the ad-
vantage of a bank behind and his own agility, he leaped up, and
fastened his arms about the shoulders of the corpse, so that they
both appeared but as one body.
He had just fixed himself to his mind, when up comes his com-
panion with the porringer and a stool. He directly mounted the
stool, and reaching up a spoonful of broth to the mouth of the
dead, with a firm and bold voice he cried Sup man! why don't
you sup?
Scarce had these words been uttered, when, fearful to hear!
with a tone deep as hell and dismal as the grave, the man in
C2
20 THE FOOL OF QUALITY.
gibbets replied Tt i is too ho t. And, confound you, why don't
you blow it then ? rejoined the other.
Friend. My nerves will not admit of this for fact. The tale in-
deed is good, though such an instance of intrepidity in any mortal
may be disputable. But, shall we never return to our story again ?
Author. It matters not how far we travel from it, since the magic
of a wish can bring us back in a twinkling.
CHAPTER IV.
RUFFLED linen, laced hat, silk stockings, &c., had now been
ordered for Harry, with a new suit of clothes, trimmed like those
of your beau-insects, vulgarly called butterflies. They were tried
on in the presence of his parents, and highly approved by all except
Harry himself, who seemed by his fidgetings to be somewhat
disgusted at this new kind of encumbrance. Harry, says my lord,
puts me in mind of the son of Jesse in the armour of Saul, he has
not yet proved them. Well, Harry, how do you like yourself?
I don't know, not I, says Harry. But, papa, can you tell me what
these things are for? In truth, Harry, you pose me. Won't
people love me better, sir? Not a whit, indeed, Harry, replied
my lord. Lord help that little fool's head of thine ! interposed my
lady; if people won't love thee, they'll respect thee the more.
Fool's head ! repeated my lord, upon my word the child has more
sense than half our nobility.
Harry had been now near a month with his parents, and as his
nurse had not yet parted, he was tolerably amenable to quality
government. However, he pined in the absence of his dada, as he
called him, and daily importuned my lord and lady to be permitted
to go and see him : for, as Harry's heart told him that his bearded
dada loved him better than all the world, so Harry loved him
better than three worlds ; for he was ever desirous of going three
times as far, in affection and good offices, as any one went for him.
At length he obtained consent, and was conducted by his nurse,
in all his finery, on a visit to his dear dada.
Their meeting was accompanied by tears of joy on both sides ;
when the old gentleman, struck with concern at the garb in which
he saw his darling, cried out And who, rny clear, put this fool's
coat upon my child ? Fool's coat, sir ! says Harry. Yes, my love,
it is worse than all that; they were very naughty doctors who
have endeavoured to poison my boy. There is not a bit of all this
lace and ruffling that is not full of rank poisons. I will tell you
a story, my Harry.
There was once upon a time, a very good and very clever boy
called Hercules. As he grew up, besides his prayers and his book,
he was taught to run and leap ; to ride, wrestle, and cudgel ; and,
though he was able to beat all the boys in the parish, he never
used to hurt or quarrel with any of them. He did not matter
cold, nor hunger, nor what he eat, nor what he drank ; nor how,
THE FOOL OF QUALITY. 21
nor where he lay ; and he went always dressed in the skin of a
wil 1 beast, that could bear all winds and weathers, and that he
could put on or off at pleasure ; for he knew that his dress was no
part of himself, and could neither add to him nor take away any
thing from him.
When this brave boy came to man's estate, he went about the
world doing good in all places ; helping the weak, and feeding the
hungry, and clothing the naked, and comforting those that cried,
and beating all those who did hurt or wrong to others; and all
good people loved him with their whole heart, and all naughty
people feared him terribly.
But, O sad and dismal ! A lady whom he had saved from great
hurt and shame, made him a present of a new coat, which was
called a shirt in those days, as they wore it next the skin. And
now, my Harry, take notice. The lady had covered his coat all
over with laces, and with rufflings, and with beads of glass, and
such other fooleries ; so that poor Hercules looked just as fine as
you do now. And he turned him to this side, and he turned him
to that side, and he began to think more and better of himself,
because he had got this fool's coat upon him. And the poison of
it entered into his body and into his mind, and brought weakness
and distempers upon the one and the other. And he grew so fond
of it, that he could not bear to have it put off : for he thought that,
to part with it, would be to part with his flesh from the bones.
Neither would he venture out in the rain any more ; nor box nor
wrestle with any body, for fear of spoiling his fine coat. So that
in time he lost the love and the praises of every body; and all
people scorned him, and pointed at him for a fool and a coxcomb
as he went by.
For some time after the old gentleman had finished his story,
the child continued to gaze up at him, with fixed eyes and open
mouth, as fearful of losing any syllable that he might utter ; till,
recollecting himself, he cried out, O, this is a very sad case, indeed !
I wish my coat \vas burnt, so I do ; but don't fear for me, dada.
Why, how then, Harry ? replied his patron. Why, I may find a
trick for all this, dada ; I warrant you never see me in this ugly
coat again.
After this, and some other instructions and mutual endearments,
nurse pressed to be gone ; and these two fond friends were com-
pelled to sunder, with a promise on Harry's part of a speedy
return.
For some time after his arrival at the mansion-house, Harry
appeared thoughtful and greatly dejected, which they ascribed to
his parting with his old friend ; but Harry had schemes in his head
that they were little able to fathom or guess at. Having peeped
about for some time, he found a knife in a window, which he
instantly seized upon, and then stole up, with all possible privacy,
to his apartment.
There he stripped himself in a hurry, and falling as quickly to
work, began to cut and rip and rend away the lacings of his suit,
without sparing cloth or seam. While lie was thus in the heat
and very middle of his business, he heard himself repeatedly called
22 THE FOOL OF QUALITY.
on the stairs, .and hurrying on his clothes to obey the summons, he
ran down to the parlour, with half the trimmings hanging in
fritters and tatters about him.
The droll and very extraordinary figure that he cut, struck all
the company into utter amazement. Having gazed on him for
some time in a kind of silent stupor Why, Harry, cries my lady,
what's all this for? Who abused you, my child who put you in
this pickle? Come hither, and tell me who spoiled your clothes.
I did, madam. You did, sirrah, cried my lady, giving him a shake ;
and how dare you spoil them ? Why, because they wanted to spoil
me, said Harry. And who told you they would spoil you, sirrah?
I won't tell, said Harry. I'll lay a wager, cried my lady, it
was that old rogue with the beard; but I'll have him whipped
for a fool and a knave out of the parish. Pray, my dear, be patient
a little, said his lordship. Come here, Harry, and tell me the truth
stoutly, and no harm shall happen to you, or your dada with the
beard. Come, speak, what fault did he find with your clothes?
Why, sir, he said they would poison me. Poison you, my dear ;
pray, how was that? Why, sir, he told me there was a little
master called Hercules, and he was a mighty good boy, and was
cold and hungry, and almost naked, and did not matter so as he
could do good to every body ; and every body loved him with
all their heart. And then, he told me, he got a mighty fine coat,
and looked here and looked there, and minded nothing but his
coat ; and how his coat poisoned him, and would not let him do any
more good, and how all the boys then hated him, and scorned him,
sir and how I believe that's all, sir !
Here my lord and lady took such a chink of laughing, that it
was some time before they could recover; while Harry looked
abashed and disconcerted. But my lord recollecting himself, took
the child on his knee, and warmly pressing him to his bosom I
must tell you, my Harry, said he, how you are a mighty good boy,
and how your dada with a beard is a mighty good dada, and has
told you all that is right and true ; and that I will go myself, one
of these days, and thank him in person. Thank you, sir, says
Harry.
Well, Harry, said my lord, I promise that no one shall poison
you any more with my consent. Whereupon another new suit was
immediately appointed, of a kind that should fear no weather ; nor,
in case of dirt or damage, draw upon Harry the resentment or
admonitions of his mamma.
Just as dinner was served up, Mr. Meekly entered and took his
seat. He came in order to conciliate a late difference between the
earl and Sir Standish Stately ; and in this he found no manner of
difficulty, as my lord was by nature of a kindly disposition, and
required no more than a first advance to be reconciled to any man.
During the entertainment. Harry kept his eyes fixed on Mr.
Meekly; and, as soon as the cloth was off, he rose, went over to
him, looked fondly in his face, and took hold of his hand with the
familiarity of an old acquaintance.
e Mr. Meekly, said my lord, my son Harry pays you a very par-
ticular and very deserved compliment ; he puts me in mind of that
THE FOOL OF QUALITY. 23
sort of instinct by which a strange dog is always sure to discover,
and to apply to the most benevolent person at table. Indeed, my
lord, said Mr. Meekly (caressing the child), I know not whether by
instinct, or by what other name, to call my own feelings; but
certain it is, that the first moment I saw him in his little peasant
petticoats, I found my heart strongly affected toward him.
In a short time my lady retired with the children, and left the
earl and Mr. Meekly over a temperate bottle. Mr. Meekly, said
my lord (taking him cordially by the hand), I rejoice at the ad-
vantage of our late acquaintance, or rather I repine that it was
not earlier. I am greatly interested, sir, in asking you a few
questions, if I thought I might do it without offence. Are you any
way straitened in your circumstances? No, my lord. But would
you not wish them more affluent would you not wish, that your
power of doing good were more extensive, more answerable to the
benevolence of your own inclinations ? I cannot say that I would,
my lord. I have upwards of seven hundred a-year clear income :
and that is considerably more than I have occasion to expend. It
would be indelicate, replied the earl, very indelicate to own, that
I am sorry for your prosperity ; and yet I find that I should have
been happy in your distress, in the power it would have given me
to serve, to oblige you. I want a friend I want just such a friend
as Mr. Meekly : and I know of no price at which I would not gladly
purchase him. My lord, I am yours, freely, affectionately yours,
without fee or condition. Sir, rejoined my lord, as I find that I
cannot make out a title to your particular attachment, I am content
to be taken into the general circle of your benevolence.
The world, Mr. Meekly, think me the happiest of men ; blessed
in my family, in my friends ; with health, honours, affluence ; with
the power of gratifying every wish that human fancy can form.
But, alas ! my sensations are very far from affirming their judg-
ment of these matters ; and I will deserve your advice, your con-
solation, if you can afford it, by unbosoming myself to you without
reserve.
When I reflect on my past life, I look on many parts of it with
repentance, and on the whole with regret. Not that I wish the
return of pleasures that I now despise, or of years spent in a
manner that virtue and common-sense must equally disapprove;
but I am arrived at my evening of life, like a sportsman who,
having been in pursuit of game all the day, returns homeward,
sorrowful, fatigued, and disappointed. With every advantage that
could gratify either my vanity or my appetites, I cannot affirm
that I ever tasted of true enjoyment ; and I now well perceive
that I was kept from being miserable, merely by amusement and
dissipation.
As I had the misfortune to be born to a title and a vast estate,
all people respected in me the possession of those objects which
they themselves were in pursuit of. I was consequently beset with
sycophants and deceivers of all sorts, and thereby trained from my
infancy to unavoidable prejudices, errors, and false estimates of
every thing. I was not naturally ill-disposed, but I was perpetually
seduced from all my better tendencies.
24 THE FOOL OF QUALITY.
Both my parents died before I arrived at those years wherein our
laws allow of any title to discretion. I had but one brother. Oh,
that dear brother, how many sighs he has cost me ! I was older
than him by about seven years; and this disparity of our age,
together with the elevating notion of my birthright, gave me the
authoritative airs of a father without a father's tenderness towards
him. This mutually prevented that cordiality, that sympathy, I
may say, by which brothers should be cemented during their mi-
nority. And when our guardian, as I then judged, had so far
betrayed his trust as to bind my brother apprentice to a trader,
and thereby to deprive him of all title to gentility, I looked upon
him as a branch cut off from the family-tree ; and, as my thoughts
about him were accompanied by coldness or disgust, I forbore to
make any inquiry concerning him.
I am apt to think, however, that he was not equally unnatural
on his part ; but, hearing of the dissolute life I led on my return
from travel, he might justly deem me unworthy of his acquaintance
or notice.
During the time of my intimacy with his late majesty, and the
ministers of his pleasures and policy, a servant brought me word
that a gentleman, attended by a number of the principal citizens,
waited for me in my antechamber ; whereupon I gave orders for
their immediate introduction. On their entrance, I was awfully
struck with the presence of their principal, with the elegance of
his figure, the nobleness of his aspect, and the ease of his address ;
and I felt myself drawn to him by a sudden kind of instinctive
attachment.
My lord, says he, we come to wait upon you in the name of the
very respectable body of the citizens of London: some infringe-
ments have been lately made on their city-charter, and their first
application is to your lordship, as they wish, above all others, to
be obliged to you for their redress.
They have been very discreet, said I, in their choice of an ad-
vocate. Their demands must be exorbitant if they fail of success
while you are their solicitor.
This paper, proceeded he, contains a clear detail of their rights,
and encroachments that have been made thereon. They are sen-
sible of your lordship's interest with his majesty and the ministry,
and they humbly petition for your favour and happy influence in
their behalf.
Without papers, I replied, or any inducement save that of your
own request, let me but know what I am to do, and I shall think
myself truly honoured and obliged by your commands.
My lord, he rejoined, I do not wish to betray you into any mis-
taken or unmerited complaisance. I am but a trader, a citizen
of the lower order.
I now felt myself blush with shame and disappointment; 1
resented my being deceived by the dignity of his appearance ; and
I was more particularly piqued by the sarcastical kind of smile with
which he closed his declaration. All confused, I looked down, and
pretended to cast my eyes over the paper, in order to gain time
for recollection. Having, at intervals, muttered a few words, such
THE FOOL OF QUALITY. 25
as charters, grants, privileges, immunities, and so forth I am not,
said I, an enemy to the lower ranks of men ; poor people must live,
and their service, as well as subordination, is necessary to society ;
but I confess I was always fond of those sumptuary laws that con-
fined the degrees of men to their respective departments, and pre-
vented mechanics from confounding themselves with gentlemen.
My lord, says he, with the most easy and provoking unconcern,
when you shall be pleased to look down from the superiority of
your station, and to consider things and persons according to their
merits, you will not despise some merely for being of use to others.
The wealth, prosperity, and importance of all this world are founded
and erected on three living pillars, the TILLER of the ground,
the MANUFACTURER, and the MERCHANT. Of these, the tiller is
supposed to be the least respectable, as he requires the least of
genius, invention, or address ; and yet the ploughman Triptolemus
was worshipped as a god, and the ploughman Cincinnatus is still
held in as high esteem as any peer of any realm, save that of
Great Britain.
I have known, said I, a mob of such gods and dictators some-
what dangerous at times. I must be free to tell you, mister, that
matters are much changed since princesses kept sheep, and the
sons of kings were cowherds.
The ranks and orders of men are now appointed and known,
and one department must not presume to break in upon another.
My baker, barber, brewer, butcher, hatter, hosier, and tailor, are
unquestionably of use, though I have not the honour of being ac-
quainted with one of them ; and hitherto I have deemed it sufficient
to send my servants to entertain and pay them their bills, without
admitting them to a tete-a-tete, as at present.
He now rejoined, with a little warmth My lord, we pardon your
indelicacy in consideration of your error. The venerable body now
present might be admitted to a tete-a-tete with the first estate of
this kingdom, without any condescension on the part of majesty.
And, would you allow yourself to be duly informed, I should soon
make you sensible that we have actually done you the honour
which we intended by this visit.
Permit me to repeat, that the wealth, prosperity, and importance
of every thing upon earth, arises from the TILLER, the MANUFAC-
TURER, and the MERCHANT ; and that, as nothing is truly estimable
save in proportion to its utility, these are consequently very far
from being contemptible characters. The tiller supplies the manu-
facturer, the manufacturer supplies the merchant, and the merchant
supplies the world with all its wealth. It is thus that industry is
promoted, arts invented and improved, commerce extended, super-
fluities mutually vended,, wants mutually supplied ; that each man
becomes a useful member of society; that societies become further
of advantage to each other ; and that states are enabled to pay and
dignify their upper servants with titles, rich revenues, principalities,
and crowns.
The merchant, above all, is extensive, considerable, and re-
spectable, by his occupation. It is he who furnishes every comfort,
convenience, and elegance of life ; who carries off every redundance,
26 THE FOOL OF QUALITY.
who fills up every want ; who ties country to country, and clime to
clime, and brings the remotest regions to neighbourhood and con-
verse ; who makes man to be literally the lord of the creation, and
gives him an interest in whatever is done upon earth ; who furnishes
to each the product of all lands, and the labours of all nations ;
and thus knits into one family, and weaves into one web, the
affinity and brotherhood of all mankind.
I have no quarrel, I cried, to the high and mighty my lords, the
merchants, if each could be humbly content with the profits of his
profession, without forming themselves into companies, exclusive of
their brethren, our itinerant merchants and pedlars. I confess my-
self an enemy to the monopolies of your chartered companies
and city corporations ; and I can perceive no evil consequence to
the public or the state, if all such associations were this instant
dissolved.
Permit me, he mildly replied, once for all, to set your lordship
right in this matter. I am sensible that the gentlemen of large
landed properties are apt to look upon themselves as the pillars
of the state, and to consider their interests, and the interests of the
nation, as very little beholden to or dependent on trade ; though
the fact is, that those very gentlemen would lose nine parts in ten
of their returns, and the nation nine-tenths of her yearly revenues,
if industry and the arts (promoted, as I said, by commerce) did not
raise the products of lands to tenfold their natural value. The
manufacturer, on the other hand, depends on the landed interest
for nothing save the materials of his craft ; and the merchant is
wholly independent of all lands, or, rather, he is the general patron
thereof. I must further observe to your lordship, that this bene-
ficent profession is by no means confined to individuals, as you
would have it. Large societies of men, nay, mighty nations, may
and have been merchants. When societies incorporate for such a
worthy purpose, they are formed as a foetus within the womb of
the mother, a constitution within the general state or constitution ;
their particular laws and regulations ought always to be con-
formable to those of the national system ; and, in that case, such
corporations greatly conduce to the peace and good order of
cities and large towns, and to the general power and prosperity
of the nation.
A nation that is a merchant has no need of an extent of lands,
as it can derive to itself subsistence from all parts of the globe.
Tyre was situated in a small island on the coast of Phoenicia, and
yet that single city contained the most flourishing, opulent, and
powerful nation in the universe ; a nation that long withstood the
united forces of the three first monarchies, brought against her by
Nebuchadnezzar and Alexander the Great. The Seven United
Provinces dp not contain land sufficient for the subsistence of one-
third of their inhabitants ; but they are a nation of merchants ; the
world furnishes them with an abundance of all good things ; by
commerce, they have arrived at empire; they have assumed to
themselves the principality of the ocean ; and, by being lords of the
ocean, are in a measure become the proprietors of all lands.
Should England ever open her eyes to her own interest, she will
THE FOOL OF QUALITY. 27
follow the same prosperous and ennobling profession ; she will
conform to the consequences of her situation. She will see that,
without a naval pre-eminence, she cannot be safe ; and that, with-
out trade, her naval power cannot be supported. Her glory will
also flow from this source of her interests, and a sail-yard will be-
come the highest sceptre of her dignity. She will then find that a
single triumph of her flag will be more available for her prosperity
than the conquest of the four continents ; that her pre-eminence by
sea will carry and diffuse her influence over all lands ; and that
universal influence is universal dominion.
Avarice, my lord, may pile ; robbery may plunder ; new mines
may be opened hidden treasures may be discovered ; gamesters
may win cash ; conquerors may win kingdoms ; but all such means
of acquiring riches are transient and determinate : while industry
and commerce are the natural, the living, the never-failing foun-
tain, from whence the wealth of this world can alone be taught
to flow.
And can you, cried T, have the effrontery to insinuate a preference
of yourself, and your fellow-cits, to our British nobles and princes,
who derive their powers and dignities from the steadfast extent of
their landed possessions? Was it by barter and bargain that our
Edwards and Henrys achieved their conquests on the continent?
or was it by pedlars and mechanics, think you, that the fields of
Cressi, Poictiers, and Agincourt are rendered immortal ? Go, I con-
tinued, seek elsewhere for redress of your insignificant grievances ;
we give little to sturdy beggars, but nothing to saucy rivals.
Wholly kindled by this invective, he cast on me a fierce and
menacing regard ; and with a severe accent, and a side glance that
shot fire When courtiers (said he) acquire common-sense, and
lords shall have learned to behave themselves like gentlemen, I may
do such a one the honour to acknowledge him for a brother.
Your brother ! exclaimed Mr. Meekly your brother, my lord !
Yes, Mr. Meekly, my brother my amiable, my very amiable
and honourable brother, indeed ! But, turning contemptuously
from me, he instantly departed with his attending citizens.
I ought to have followed I ought to have stayed him. I should
have fallen upon his neck; with my tears and caresses I should
have wrung a pardon from him, and not have suffered him to leave
me till, by my submissions, I had obtained full forgiveness. This,
indeed, was my first emotion ; but the recollection of my long and
unnatural neglect, my utter disregard of his person and concerns,
now aggravated by my late insults, persuaded me that a recon-
ciliation on his part was impossible.
I remained disconcerted, and greatly disturbed. I felt with what
pride and transport I should now have acknowledged, have courted,
have clasped this brother to my bosom ; but my fancy represented
him as ice in my arms, as shrinking and turning from me with dis-
gust and disdain. At times I formed a hundred schemes toward
recovering his affections ; but, again rejecting these as ineffectual,
I endeavoured to console myself for his loss, by considering his late
demeanour as exceeding faulty, and expressive of a disposition in-
sufferably proud and overbearing. My heart, indeed, acknowledged
28 THE FOOL OF QUALITY.
how very lovely he was in his person : but the superiority of his
talents, and the refinement of his manners, gave him a distinction
that was not altogether so grateful.
All day I kept my apartment, in displeasure at my brother, my-
self, and the world. The next morning I was informed, that the
moment he left me he went to the minister, who engaged, at his
instance, to have every grievance that he complained of redressed
to its extent ; that the minister had afterwards introduced him to
his majesty in full leve*e, that the king held him in long and fami-
liar conversation, and that all the court was profuse of their ad-
miration and praises of Mr. Clinton.
This also was fresh matter of triumph to him, and mortification
to me. It was now evident that my brother's application to me
was intended merely to do me peculiar honour ; and in return, said
I to myself, I have endeavoured to cover him with confusion and
disgrace. Yet, when I understood that he had disdained to men-
tion me as his brother, or of his blood, I also scorned to derive
lustre from any claim of affinity with him; and I further felt
that I could not forgive him the reproaches which he constrained
me to give myself in his behalf.
From that time I took great pains to dissipate or suppress those
uneasy sensations which the remembrance of him gave me. But
after I had married and retired from the glare and bustle of the
world ; and more particularly on the birth of my first child, when
my heart had entered into a new sphere of domestic feelings, this
dear brother returned with double weight upon my mind. Yet
his idea was no longer accompanied by envy or resentment, but by
an affectionate and sweet, though paining, remorse.
I wrote him a letter full of penitential submissions, and of tender
and atoning prayers for pardon and reconcilement. But, alas !
my messenger returned with tidings that, some years past, he had
withdrawn from trade, had retired to France or Holland, had
dropped all correspondence, and that no one in England knew
whether he was dead or alive.
Ah, my brother! my dear brother! (I would often repeat to
myself,) has any reverse of fortune happened to you, my brother?
some domestic calamity, some heavy distress, perhaps? and no
brother at hand to console or share your afflictions. Return to
me, divide my heart, divide my fortune, with me and mine !
Alas, wretch that I am ! you know not that you have a brother,
one deserving of that name. You know not that this bosom of
flint is now humanized, and melted down in the fervour of affec-
tion towards you. You hate me, you despise me, my amiable
brother ! How, now, shall I make you sensible that my heart is
full of your image, of esteem, of tenderest love, for my lovely
Harry Clinton !
I again sent other messengers in search of intelligence, and pro-
cured letters to the bankers and merchants of principal note
abroad ; but all my solicitudes and inquiries were equally fruitless.
The grief that this occasioned first taught me to reflect, and
cast a shade over the lustre of every object about me. The world
no more appeared as that world which, formerly, had held out
THE FOOL OF QUALITY. 29
happiness to either hand. I no longer beheld it through the per-
spectives of curiosity or youthful desire ; I had worn out all its
gaieties ; I had exhausted all its delights ; for me it had nothing
more to promise or bestow ; and yet I saw no better prospect,
no other resource.
Should I turn to religion, a little observation taught me, that
the devotees themselves were warm in pursuit of objects of which
I was tired ; that they were still subject to the passions and
desires of the world ; and were no way to be distinguished from
other men, save by an unsociable reserve, or gloomy cast of
countenance.
May I venture to confess to you, Mr. Meekly, that, at times of
my despondence, I dared to call the justice and wisdom of Omni-
potence into question. Take this world (said I to myself), con-
sider it as it seems to stand, independent of any other, and no
one living can assign a single end or purpose for which it could be
made. Men are even as their fellow insects; they rise to life,
exert their lineaments, and flutter abroad during the summer of
their little seasons ; then droop, die away, and are succeeded, and
succeeded in insignificant rotation. Even the firmest human esta-
blishments, the best laboured systems of policy, can scarce boast
a nobler fate or a longer duration : the mightiest states and
nations perish like individuals ; in one leaf we read their his-
tory, we admire their achievements, we are interested in their
successes, but, proceed to the next, and no more than a name is
left: the Ninevehs and Babylons of Asia are fallen, the Sparta
and Athens of Greece are no more; and the monuments that
promised to endure to eternity, are erased like the mount of sand,
which yesterday the children cast up on the shore.
When I behold this stupendous expanse, so sumptuously fur-
nished with a profusion of planets and luminaries, revolving in
appointed courses, and diversifying the seasons, I see a work that
is altogether worthy of a God. Again, when I descend to earth,
and look abroad upon the infinite productions of nature, upon
provisions so amply answering to the wants of every living being,
and on objects and organs so finely fitted to each other, I trace
a complicated maze of wisdom, bounty, and benevolence. But
when I see all these beauties and benefits counteracted by some
adverse and destructive principle ; when the heavens gather their
clouds and roll their thunders above, and the earth begins to quake
and open beneath us ; when the air, that seemed so late to be the
breath and balm of life, grows pregnant with a variety of pests,
plagues, and poisons ; when life itself is found to be no other than
the storehouse or habitation of death, and that all vegetable and
animal systems include, within their frame, the principles of in-
evitable distemper and dissolution; when, additional to all these
natural mischiefs, I consider the extent and empire of moral evil
upon earth; when I behold the wretched perishable short-lived
animal, called man, for the value of some matter of property as
transient as himself, industrious and studious of the destruction of
his species ; when, not content Avith the evils that nature has en-
tailed upon him, man exerts all his talents for multiplying and
30 THE FOOL OF QUALITY.
speeding the means of perdition to man ; when I see half the
world employed in pushing the other half from the verge of exist-
ence, and then dropping after in an endless succession of male-
volence and misery, I cannot possibly reconcile such contrasts
and contradictions to the agency, or even permission, of the one
over-ruling principle of goodness called God.
Could not Omniscience foresee such consequences at creation?
Unquestionably, said Mr. Meekly.
Might he not have ordered matters so, as to have prevented
the possibility of any degree of natural or moral evil in his uni-
verse? I think he might, my lord. Why did he not then pre-
vent them? to what end could he permit such multiplied male-
volence and misery among his creatures? For ends, certainly,
my lord, infinitely worthy both of his wisdom and his goodness.
I am desirous it should be so ; but cannot conceive, cannot reach
the way or means of compassing such an intention.
Can you not suppose, said Mr. Meekly, that evil may be admitted
for accomplishing the greater and more abundant good? May
not partial and temporary malevolence and misery be finally pro-
ductive of universal, durable, and unchangeable beatitude ? May
not the universe, even now, be in the pangs of travail, of labour
for such a birth, such a blessed consummation ?
It were, rejoined the earl, as our Shakespeare says it were
indeed a consummation devoutly to be wished ! But might not
Omnipotence have brought about a consummation equally good
without any intervention of preceding evil? Had that been pos-
sible, my lord, it would unquestionably have been effected. But
if certain relations arise between God and his creatures, and be-
tween man and man, which could not arise save on the previous
supposition of evil, without which, indeed, neither the attributes of
God himself, nor the insufficiency, dependence, or obligation of the
creature, could have been duly discoverable throughout eternity;
then temporary evil becomes indispensably necessary to the con-
sequence and consummation of the greatest good.
Your notion, exclaimed the earl, is great, amazing, truly glorious,
and every way worthy of a God who, in such a case, would be in-
finitely worthy of all worship! Is this the reason, Mr. Meekly,
that what we all so earnestly seek for is nowhere to be found;
that no portion or taste of happiness is to be had upon earth ?
I do not say so, my lord. I think that a man, even on earth,
may be occasionally, nay, durably and exceedingly happy.
What, happy durably, exceedingly happy? repeated the earl.
I was told that the experience of ages, that philosophy, and even
divinity, ^ had agreed with Solomon in this that all upon earth
was vanity and vexation of spirit. If any may enjoy happiness
on this side of the great consummation that you speak of, I am
persuaded, Mr. Meekly, that you yourself are the man. Your
lips, indeed, say nothing of the matter ; but neither your eyes nor
your aspect can restrain the expression of some extraordinary peace
that abides within. O! say then, my dear, my estimable friend,
whence, how, by what means, may a man arrive at happiness? By
getting out of himself, my lord.
THE FOOL OF QUALITY. 31
Out of himself, Mr. Meekly? You astonish me greatly. A con-
tradiction in terms, unnatural, impossible! God himself, my lord,
cannot make a man happy in any other way, either here or here-
after.
It is, said the earl, an established maxim among all thinking
men, whether divines or philosophers, that SELF-LOVE is the
motive to all human actions. Virtue forbid! exclaimed Mr.
Meekly. All actions are justly held good or evil, base or honour-
able, detestable or amiable, merely according to their motives;
but if the motive is the same to all, there is an end, at once, to
the possibility of virtue the cruel and the kind, the faithful and
the perfidious, the prostitute and the patriot, are confounded
together.
Do not all men, retained the earl, act agreeably to their
own propensities and inclinations? Do they not act so or so,
merely because it pleases them so to act? And is not this pleasure
the same motive to all ? By no means, my lord ; it never was nor
can be the motive in any. We must go a question deeper to
discover the secret principle or spring of action. One man is
pleased to do good, another is pleased to do evil ; now, whence
is it that each is pleased with purposes in their nature so opposite
and irreconcilable ? Because, my lord, the propensities or motives
to action in each are as opposite and as irreconcilable as the ac-
tions themselves ; the one is prompted, and therefore pleased,
with his purpose of doing evil to others through some base pro-
spect of interest redounding to himself ; the other is prompted and
spurred, and therefore pleased, with his purpose of endangering
his person, or suffering in his fortune, through the benevolent
prospect of the good that shall thereby redound to others.
Pleasure is itself an effect, and cannot be the cause, or prin-
ciple, or motive, to any thing ; it is an agreeable sensation that
arises, in any animal, on its meeting or contemplating an object
that is suited to its nature. As far as the nature of such an animal
is evil, evil objects can alone effect it with pleasure ! as far as the
nature of such an animal is good, the objects must be good whereby
its pleasures are excited.
When Damon was sentenced, by Dionysius of Syracuse, to die
on such a day, he prayed permission, in the interim, to retire to
his own country to set the affairs of his disconsolate family in order.
This the tyrant intended most peremptorily to refuse, by granting
it, as he conceived, on the impossible condition of his procuring
some one to remain as hostage for his return, under equal forfeiture
of life. Pythias heard the condition, and did not wait for an ap-
plication on the part of Damon; he instantly offered himself to
durance in place of his friend, and Damon was accordingly set
at liberty.
The king and all his courtiers were astonished at this action,
as they could not account for it on any allowed principles. Self-
interest, in their judgment, was the sole mover of human affairs ;
and they looked on virtue, friendship, benevolence, love of country,
and the like, as terms invented by the wise to impose upon the
weak. They, therefore, imputed this act of Pythias to the ex-
32 THE FOOL OF QUALITY.
travagance of his folly, to the defect of head merely, and no way
to any virtue or good quality of heart.
When the day of the destined execution drew near, the tyrant
had the curiosity to visit Pythias in his dungeon. Having re-
proached him for the romantic stupidity of his conduct, and rallied
him for some time on his madness in presuming that Damon, by
his return, would prove as great a fool as himself My lord, said
Pythias, with a firm voice and noble aspect, I would it were possible
that I might suffer a thousand deaths rather than my friend should
fail in any article of his honour. He cannot fail therein, my lord.
I am as confident of his virtue as I am of my own existence. But
I pray, I beseech the gods, to preserve the life and integrity of
my Damon together. Oppose him, ye winds prevent the eager-
ness and impatience of his honourable endeavours and suffer him
not to arrive till, by my death, I have redeemed a life a thousand
times of more consequence, more estimation, than my own ; more
estimable to his lovely wife, to his precious little innocents, to his
friends, to his country ! leave me not to die the worst of deaths
in my Damon !
Dionysius was confounded and awed by the dignity of these
sentiments, and by the manner (still more sentimental) in which
they were uttered. He felt his heart struck by a slight sense of
invading truth ; but it served rather to perplex than to undeceive
him. He hesitated he would have spoken ; but he looked down
and retired in silence.
The fatal day arrived. Pythias was brought forth, and walked
amidst the guard, with a serious but satisfied air, to the place of
execution.
Dionysius was already there. He was exalted on a moving throne
that was drawn by six white horses, and sat pensive and attentive
to the demeanour of the prisoner.
Pythias came. He vaulted lightly on the scaffold; and be-
holding, for some time, the apparatus of his death, he turned
with a pleased countenance and addressed the assembly.
My prayers are heard, he cried ; the gods are propitious ! You
know, my friends, that the winds have been contrary till yesterday.
Damon could not come he could not conquer impossibilities; he
will be here to-morrow, and the blood which is shed to-day shall
have ransomed the life of my friend, O ! could I erase from your
bosoms every doubt, every mean suspicion of the honour of the
man for whom I am about to suffer, I should go to my death even
as I would to my bridal ! Be it sufficient, in the mean time, that
my friend will be found noble ; that his truth is unimpeachable ;
that he will speedily approve it ; that he is now on his way, hurry-
ing on, accusing himself, the adverse elements, and the gods. But
I haste to prevent his speed ; executioner, to your office !
As he pronounced the last words, a buzz began to arise among
the remotest of the people. A distant voice was heard. The
crowd caught the words ; and Stop, stop the execution ! was re-
peated by the whole assembly.
A man came at full speed. The throng gave way to his ap-
proach. He was mounted on a steed of foam. In an instant
THE FOOL OF QVALITY. 83
he was off his horse, on the scaffold, and held Pythias straitly
embraced.
You are safe, he cried you are safe, my friend, my beloved !
The gods be praised, you are safe ! I now have nothing but death
to suffer ; and I am delivered from the anguish of those reproaches
which I gave myself, for having endangered a life so much dearer
than my own.
Pale, cold, and half- speechless in the arms of his Damon, Pythias
replied in broken accents Fatal haste ! cruel impatience ! what
envious powers have wrought impossibilities in your favour? But
I will not be wholly disappointed: since I cannot die to save, I
will not survive you.
Dionysius heard, beheld, and considered all with astonishment.
His heart was touched ; his eyes were opened ; and he could no
longer refuse his assent to truths so incontestably approved by
their facts.
He descended from his throne. He ascended the scaffold. Live,
live, ye incomparable pair ! he exclaimed. Ye have borne un-
questionable testimony to the existence of virtue ; and that virtue
equally evinces the certainty of the existence of a God to reward
it. Live happy, live renowned ! andi O form me by your precepts,
as you have invited me by your example, to be worthy of the
participation of so sacred a friendship.
You bring your arguments quite home, Mr. Meekly, said the
earl ; the understanding cannot reject what the heart so sensibly
feels. My soul deeply acknowledges the existence of virtue, with
its essential and inherent difference from vice ; and this difference,
I acknowledge, must as necessarily be founded in the difference
of the principles from whence they proceed : but what those prin-
ciples are I know not : and I am equally a stranger to what you
intend by a man's getting out of himself in order to happiness.
What am I to understand by the term SELF, Mr. Meekly ?
Every particle of matter, my lord, has a SELF, or distinct identity,
inasmuch as it cannot be any other particle of matter. Now, while
it continues in this state of SELFISHNESS, or absolute distinction,
it is utterly useless and insignificant, and is to the universe as
though it were not. It has, however, a principle of attraction
(analogous or answerable to desire in the mind), whereby it en-
deavours to derive to itself the powers and advantages of all other
portions of matter. But when the divine intelligence hath har-
monized certain qualities of such distinct particles into certain
animal or vegetable systems, this principle of attraction in each
is overcome, for each becomes attracted and drawn as it were from
SELF ; each yields up its powers to the benefit of the whole ; and
then, and then only, becomes capable and productive of shape,
colouring, beauty, flowers, fragrance, and fruits.
Be pleased now to observe, my lord, that this operation in matter
is no other than a manifestation of the like process in mind ; ana
that no soul was ever capable of any degree of virtue or happiness,
save so far as it is drawn away in its affections from self ; save so
far as it is engaged in wishing, contriving, endeavouring, promoting,
and rejoicing in the welfare and happiness of others.
D
34 THE FOOL OF QUALITY.
It is, therefore, that the kingdom of heaven is most aptly, and
most beautifully, compared to a tree bearing fruit and diffusing
odours, whose root is the principle of infinite benevolence, and
whose branches are the blessed members, receiving consummate
beatitude from the act of communication.
I think, indeed, said the earl, that I can form some sort of a
notion of such a society in heaven. But it would pose you, Mr.
Meekly, to exemplify your position from any body of men that ever
were upon earth.
Pray, pardon me, my lord ; the states of Sparta and Eome de-
rived their lustre and power, their whole pre-eminence and praise,
from this principle of communication., which, in them, was called
love of country. But this beautifying principle was still more
eminently instanced hi the society of the church of Jerusalem, who
had all things in common; who imparted their possessions to all
men, as every man had need; and thence did eat their common
bread with gladness and singleness of heart, praising God, and
having favour with all people.
You say, my lord, that you can form a notion of some such ex-
cellence in heaven ; but I can form no notion of any excellence
more admirable in heaven itself, than when a man, in his present
state of frail and depraved nature, overbears his personal fears of
pain and mortality, and yields up his body to assured perdition for
public good, or for the sake of those whom it delighteth him to
preserve.
I shall pass over the instances of the Koman Regulus and the
Decii, as also that of Leonidas and his three hundred Spartans, who
devoted their lives for the liberties of Greece. Was that candidate
less a hero, who, being rejected from being one of these self-
devoted, exclaimed The gods be praised, there are three hundred
in Sparta better men than myself! But I come nearer our own
times and our own nation, to exemplify this disregard of self, the
vital source and principle of every virtue, in six mechanics or
craftsmen of the city of Calais.
Edward the Third, after the battle of Cressi, laid siege to Calais.
He had fortified his camp in so impregnable a manner, that all the
efforts of France proved ineffectual to raise the siege, or throw
succours into the city. The citizens, however, under the conduct
of Count Vienne, their gallant governor, made an admirable de-
fence. Day after day the English effected many a breach, which
they repeatedly expected to storm by morning ; but when morning
appeared, they wondered to behold new ramparts raised, nightly
erected out of the ruins which the day had made.
France had now put the sickle into her second harvest, since
Edward with his victorious army sat down before the town. The
eyes of all Europe were intent on the issue. The English made
their approaches and attacks without remission; but the citizens
were as obstinate in repelling all their efforts.
_ At length famine did more for Edward than arms. After the
citizens had devoured the lean carcasses of their starved cattle,
they tore up old foundations and rubbish in search of vermin.
They fed on boiled leather and the weeds of exhausted gar-
THE FOOL OF QUALITY. 35
dens, and a morsel of damaged corn was accounted matter of
luxury.
In this extremity they resolved to attempt the enemy's camp.
They boldly sallied forth ; the English joined battle ; and, after
a long and desperate engagement, Count Vienne was taken prisoner,
and the citizens who survived the slaughter retired within their
gates.
On the captivity of the governor, the command devolved upon
Eustace St. Pierre, the mayor of the town, a man of mean birth
but of exalted virtue.
Eustace now found himself under the necessity of capitulating,
and offered to deliver to Edward the city, with all the possessions
and wealth of the inhabitants, provided he permitted them to
depart with life and liberty.
As Edward had long since expected to ascend the throne of
France, he was exasperated to the last degree against these people,
whose sole valour had defeated his warmest hopes ; he therefore
determined to take an exemplary revenge, though he wished to
avoid the imputation of cruelty. He answered, by Sir Walter
Mauny, that they all deserved capital punishment, as obstinate
traitors to him, their true and natural sovereign; that, however,
in his wonted clemency, he consented to pardon the bulk of the
plebeians, provided they would deliver up to him six of their prin-
cipal citizens, with halters about their necks, as victims of due
atonement for that spirit of rebellion with which they had inflamed
the vulgar herd.
All the remains of this desolate city were convened in the great
square, and, like men arraigned at a tribunal from whence there
was no appeal, expected with beating hearts the sentence of the
conqueror.
When Sir Walter had declared his message, consternation and
pale dismay was impressed on every face. Each looked upon death
as his own inevitable lot ; for how should they desire to be saved
at the price proposed? whom had they to deliver, save parents,
brothers, kindred, or valiant neighbours who had so often exposed
their lives in their defence? To a long and dead silence deep
sighs and groans succeeded, till Eustace St. Pierre, getting up to
a little eminence, thu^ addressed the assembly :
"My friends, we are brought to great straits this day. We
must either submit to the terms of our cruel and ensnaring con-
queror, or yield up our tender infants, our wives, and chaste
daughters, to the bloody and brutal lusts of the violating soldiery.
We well know what the tyrant intends by his specious offers of
mercy. It will not satiate his vengeance to make us merely
miserable ; he would also make us criminal, he would make us
contemptible ; he will grant us life on no condition save that of
our being unworthy of it.
" Look about you, my friends, and fix your eyes on the persons
whom you wish to deliver up as the victims of your own safety.
Which of these would ye appoint to the rack, the axe, or the
halter? Is there any here who has not watched for you, who
has not fought for you, who has not bled for you ? who, through
D 2
56 THE FOOL OF QUALITY.
the length of this inveterate siege, has not suffered fatigues and
miseries a thousand times worse than death, that you and yours
might survive to days of peace and prosperity? Is it your pre-
servers, then, whom you would destine to destruction? You will
not, you cannot do it. Justice, honour, humanity, make such a
treason impossible.
"Where, then, is our resource? Is there any expedient left
whereby we may avoid guilt and infamy on the one hand, or the
desolation and horrors of a sacked city on the other ? There is,
my friends there is one expedient left ; a gracious, an excellent,
a godlike expedient ! Is there any here to whom virtue is dearer
than life ? Let him offer himself an oblation for the safety of his
people ! He shall not fail of a blessed approbation from that Power
who offered up his only Son for the salvation of mankind."
He spoke but an universal silence ensued. Each man looked
around for the example of that virtue and magnanimity in others,
which all wished to approve in themselves, though they wanted
the resolution.
At length St. Pierre resumed "It had been base in me, my
fellow-citizens, to propose any matter of damage to others, which
I myself had not been willing to undergo in my own person. But
I held it ungenerous to deprive any man of that preference and
estimation which might attend a first offer on so signal an occasion.
For I doubt not but there are many here as ready, nay, more
zealous of this martyrdom, than I can be, however modesty and
the fear of imputed ostentation may withhold them from being
foremost in exhibiting their merits.
" Indeed, the station to which the captivity of Lord Vienne has
unhappily raised me, imparts a right to be the first in giving my
life for your sakes. I give it freely, I give it cheerfully who
comes next ?"
Your son ! exclaimed a youth, not yet come to maturity. " Ah,
my child," cried St. Pierre, " I am then twee sacrificed. But no,
I had rather begotten thee a second time. Thy years are few but
full, my son ; the victim of virtue has reached the utmost purpose
and goal of mortality. Who next, my friends? This is the hour
of heroes ! " Your kinsman, cried John de Aire ! Your kinsman,
cried James Wissant ! Your kinsman, cried Peter Wissant ! Ah,
exclaimed Sir Walter Mauny, bursting into tears, why was not 1 a
citizen of Calais ?
The sixth victim was still wanting, but was quickly supplied,
by lot, from numbers who were now emulous of so ennobling an
example.
The keys of the city were then delivered to Sir Walter. He
took the six prisoners into his custody. He ordered the gates to be
opened, and gave charge to his attendants to conduct the remaining
citizens, with their families, through the camp of the English.
Before they departed, however, they desired permission to take
their last adieu of their deliverers. What a parting what a scene !
They crowded with their wives and children about St. Pierre and
his fellow-prisoners : they embraced they clung around they fell
prostrate before them ; they groaned they wept aloud ; and the
THE FOOL OF QUALITY. 37
joint clamour of their mourning passed the gates of the city, and
was heard throughout the camp.
The English, by this time, were apprised of what passed within
Calais. They heard the voice of lamentation, and their souls were
touched with compassion : each of the soldiers prepared a portion
of his own victuals to welcome and entertain the half-famished in-
habitants; and they loaded them with as much as their present
weakness was able to bear, in order to supply them with sustenance
by the way.
At length St. Pierre and his fellow victims appeared under
the conduct of Sir Walter and a guard. All the tents of the
English were instantly emptied. The soldiers poured from all
parts and arranged themselves on each side, to behold, to con-
template, to admire this little band of patriots as they passed.
They bowed down to them on all sides ; they murmured their
applause of that virtue which they could not but revere, even
in enemies ; and they regarded those ropes, which they had
voluntarily assumed about their necks, as ensigns of greater dignity
than that of the British garter.
As soon as they had reached the presence Mauny! says the
monarch, are these the principal inhabitants of Calais ? They are,
says Mauny : They are not only the principal men of Calais, they
are the principal men of France, my lord, if virtue has any share
in the act of ennobling. "Were they delivered peaceably? says Ed-
ward : was there no resistance, no commotion among the people ?
Not in the least, my lord ; the people would all have perished
rather than have delivered the least of these to your majesty.
They are self-delivered, self-devoted, and come to offer up their
inestimable heads as an ample equivalent for the ransom of
thousands.
Edward was secretly piqued at this reply of Sir Walter ; but
he knew the privilege of a British subject, and suppressed his re-
sentment. Experience, says he, hath ever shewn that lenity only
serves to invite people to new crimes. Severity, at times, is indis-
pensably necessary, to deter subjects into submission by punish-
ment and example. Go, he cried, to an officer, lead these men
to execution! Your rebellion, continued he, addressing himself
to St. Pierre your rebellion against me, the natural heir of the
crown, is highly aggravated by your present presumption and
affront of my power. We have nothing to ask of your majesty, said
Eustace, save what you cannot refuse us. What is that ? Your
esteem, my lord, said Eustace, and went out with his companions.
At this instant, a sound of triumph was heard throughout the
camp. The queen had just arrived, with a powerful reinforcement
of those gallant soldiers, at the head of whom she had conquered
Scotland, and taken the king captive.
Sir Walter Mauny flew to receive her majesty, and briefly in-
formed her of the particulars respecting the six victims.
As soon as she had been welcomed by Edward and his court,
she desired a private audience. My lord, said she, the question
I am to enter upon is not touching the lives of a few mechanics it
respects a matter more estimable than the lives of all the natives
38 TEE FOOL OF QUALITY.
of France it respects the honour of the English nation it respects
the glory of my Edward, my husband, my king.
You think you have sentenced six of your enemies to death.
No, my lord, they have sentenced themselves ; and their execution
would be the execution of their own orders, not the orders of
Edward.
They have behaved themselves worthily they have behaved them-
selves greatly ; I cannot but respect, while I envy, while I hate
them, for leaving us no share in the honour of this action, save
that of granting a poor, and indispensable pardon.
I admit they have deserved every thing that is evil at your
hands. They have proved the most inveterate and efficacious of
your enemies. They alone have withstood the rapid course of
your conquests, and have withheld from you the crown to which
you were born. Is it therefore that you would reward them?
that you would gratify their desires that you would indulge their
ambition, and en wreath them with everlasting glory and applause ?
But if such a death would exalt mechanics over the fame of the
most illustrious heroes, how would the name of my Edward, with
all his triumphs and honours, be tarnished thereby? Would it
not be said that magnanimity and virtue are grown odious in the
eyes of the monarch of Britain? and that the objects whom he
destines to the punishment of felons, are the very men who deserve
the praise and esteem of mankind? The stage on which they
would suffer would be to them a stage of honour ; but a stage
of shame to Edward a reproach to his conquests a dark and
indelible disgrace to his name !
No, my lord; let us rather disappoint the saucy ambition of
these burghers, who wish to invest themselves with glory at our
expense. We cannot, indeed, wholly deprive them of the merit
of a sacrifice so nobly intended ; but we may cut them short of
their desires: in the place of that death by which their glory
would be consummated, let us bury them under gifts, let us put
them to shame with praises; we shall thereby defeat them of
that popular opinion which never fails to attend those who suffer
in the cause of virtue.
I am convinced you have prevailed be it so, cried Edward
prevent the execution have them instantly before us !
They came ; when the queen, with an aspect and accents diffusing
sweetness, thus bespoke them :
Natives of France, and inhabitants of Calais ! Ye have put us
to vast expense of blood and treasure in the recovery of our
just and natural inheritance ; but you acted up to the best of
an erroneous judgment, and we admire and honour in you that
valour and virtue by which we are so long kept out of our
rightful possessions.
You noble burghers you excellent citizens! though you were
tenfold the enemies of our person and our throne, we can feel
nothing on our part save respect and affection for you. You
have been sufficiently tested. We loose your chains, we snatch
you from the scaffold ; and we thank you for that lesson of humilia-
tion which you teach us, when you shew us that excellence is not
THE FOOL OF QUALITY.
39
of blood, of title, or station that virtue gives a dignity superior
to that of kings; and that those whom the Almighty informs
with sentiments like yours, are justly and eminently raised above
all human distinctions.
You are now free to depart to your kinsfolk, your countrymen
to all those whose lives and liberties you have so nobly redeemed
provided you refuse not to carry with you the due tokens of
our esteem.
Yet we would rather bind you to ourselves by every endearing
obligation ; and, for this purpose, we offer to you your choice of
the gifts and honours that Edward has to bestow. Kivals for
fame, but always friends to virtue, we wish that England were
entitled to call you her sons.
Ah, my country ! exclaimed St. Pierre, it is now that I tremble
for you. Edward could only win your cities, but Philippa con-
quers hearts.
Brave St. Pierre, said the queen, wherefore look ye so dejected ?
Ah, madam ! replied St. Pierre, when I meet with such another
opportunity of dying, I shall not regret that I survived this day.
Here a long pause ensued. At length the earl recollected
himself. Mr. Meekly, said he, you have now proved to me your
position more effectually, more convincingly, than all the powers
of ratiocination could possibly do. While you related the story
of these divine citizens, I was imperceptibly stolen away, and won
entirely from self. I entered into all their interest, their passions,
and affections ; and was wrapped, as it were, into a new world of
delightful sensibilities. Is this what you call virtue what you
call happiness ?
A good deal of it, my lord. There are in nature but two kinds
of self; in other words, there are but two sorts of will in the
universe, the will of infinite wisdom, of infinite benevolence, going
forth in beauty and beatitude on all creatures; and the will of
the creature, desiring, attracting, envying, coveting, and rending
all things from all, to its own interest and advantage. In the
first will subsists all possible good; from the second arises all
possible evil : and did not the first will, in some measure, inform
and meliorate the second, the will of every creature would be
an Ishmael his hand would be against every one, and every
one's hand against him ; and there would be nothing but strife and
distraction, hatred, horror, and misery, throughout the creation.
Hence it follows that, as there is but one will from eternity,
infinitely wise to discern what is best throughout the universe,
infinitely good to desire the accomplishment of what is best, and
infinitely powerful to put what is best in execution ; every will
that is not informed by this ONE WILL, must of necessity act in
ignorance, in blindness, and error. I will further affirm, that every
act of every will, that is not informed by the ONE WILL of GOOD-
NESS, must, of equal necessity, be the act of malevolence.
I do not see the necessity of that, replied the earl. I well per-
ceive that God can give to intelligent beings an existence or
identity distinct from himself, for I see that he has done it. What
should therefore prevent him from giving qualities as distinct from
40 THE FOOL OF QUALITY.
himself as the essence ? why might he not impart, to any limited
degree, capacity, discernment, power, wisdom, and goodness?
Might not such a being instantly perceive, to a vast extent, the
relations of things, with their several fitnesses and disagreements?
would he not consequently be enamoured of what was right and
beautiful? would he not act agreeable to such a just appro-
bation? and would not such acts be fitly accounted the acts of
virtue?
At this instant a messenger arrived on the spur. He brought
word to Mr. Meekly that his friend Mr. Husbands was taken sud-
denly ill, and earnestly requested to see him directly ; whereupon
Mr. Meekly, who preferred any matter of charity to all other con-
siderations, immediately got up, made a silent bow, and vanished.
To return to our hero. As soon as he was new rigged, he pressed
for another visit to his patron, who received him with accustomed
tenderness, but greatly wondered at his peasant dress. Nurse
then recited to him the whole adventure of the frittered robings ;
whereat the old gentleman in a manner devoured him with the
eagerness of his caresses.
When nurse and Harry were departed, he called to him his old
domestic. James, said he, with a tear yet standing in his eye,
I can no longer live without the company of this dear child ; hasten,
therefore, the orders I have already given you, and let all things
be in readiness for the first opportunity. The domestic, who had
caught the silent habit of his master, with a bow assented, and
retired.
Autumn was now advanced, and Lord Dicky, with his brother,
a number of little associates, and an attending footman, got leave
to go to the copse a nutting. As the children were perfectly
acquainted with the way, the servant desired to stay behind a while,
in order to provide hooks for pulling down the branches. This was
granted, and forth they all issued in high chat and spirits,
The copse lay at some distance, on one side of the park behind
the mansion-house ; but when they had nearly approached the
place of their destination, Harry missed a garter, and, promising
speedily to rejoin his companions, went back to seek it.
In the mean time his associates, on entering the wood, met with
another little posse of the village fry, who were on their return, one
of whom carried a bag of nuts that seemed bulkier than the bearer.
So, gentlemen, says Lord Dicky, where are you going? Why,
home where should we go? says a little boor sullenly. And,
pray, what have you been doing? says the lord. Guess, says the
boor. Is it nuts that you have got in that bag ? demanded the lord.
Ask to-morrow, answered the boor. Sirrah, says Dicky, a little
E revoked, how dare you to come and pull nuts here, without our
jave ? Why, as for that, Mr. Dicky, replied the other, I know you
well enough, and I wouldn't ask your leave an' you were twenty
lords, not I. Sirrah, says Dicky, I have a great mind to take
your nuts from you, and to give you as good a beating, into the
bargain, as ever you got in your life. As for that, Mr. Dicky,
coolly answered the villager, you must do both or neither. Here
I lay down my nuts between us ; and now come any two of your
THE FOOL OF QVALITY. 41
water-gruel regiment, one down, t'other come on ; and if I don't
give ye your bellies full, why, then, take my nuts and welcome,
to make up the want.
This gallant invitation was accepted on the spot. Lord Richard
chose his companion in arms, and both appeared quite flush and
confident of victory : for, though neither of them had been versed in
the gymnastic exercises, they did not want courage, and they knew
that their challenger was their inferior in strength and in years.
But, unhappily for these two champions of quality, Tommy Truck,
their adversary, had, like Harry, been a bruiser from two years old
and upward, and was held in veneration, as their leader and their
chief, by many who were his superiors in age and stature.
Lord Richard began the assault, but was down in a twinkling.
To him his friend succeeded, but with no better fortune. A swing
or trip of Tommy's sent them instantly, as Alcides sent Antseus,
to gather strength from their mother earth. And though these
summer heroes, like the young Roman nobility at the battle of
Pharsalia, were solely intent on defending their pretty faces from
annoyance, yet Tommy, at the third turn, had bloodied them both.
Harry, who was now on his return, perceived the engagement ;
and running up, and rushing hi between the combatants, interposed
with a voice of authority, and parted the fray.
Having inquired, and duly informed himself of the merits of the
case, he first turned him to Lord Richard, and said O brother
Dicky, brother Dicky, you ought not to hinder poor boys from
pulling a few dirty nuts what signifies 'em ? Then turning to the
challenger, his old acquaintance Tommy, says he, did you know
that Dicky was my brother? Yes, says Tommy rudely; and what
though if I did? O nothing at all, says Harry; but I want to
speak with you, Tommy. Whereupon he took the conqueror under
the arm, and walked away with him, very lovingly in all ap-
pearance, looking about to take care that none of the boys
followed him.
Meantime the little gentry threw out their invectives in profusion
against our departed hero. I think, says one, that Master Harry
had as much to blame in Tommy as Lord Dicky. Ay, says another,
one would think he might as well have taken his brother's part as
that blackguard's. Indeed, it was very naughty of him, says a
third. For my part, says a fourth, I will never have any thing
more to say to him.
While thus they vilified their late friend, he and his fellow cham-
pion walked arm-in-arm in a sullen and uninterrupted silence, till
coming to a small opening, in a secret part of the wood, Harry
quitted his companion, desired him to strip, and instantly cast
aside his own hat, coat, and waistcoat. Why should I strip ? says
Tommy. To box, says Harry. Why should you box with me,
Harry? sure I did'nt strike you, says Tom. Yes, sir, replied our
hero, you struck me when you struck Dicky, and knew that he
was my brother. Nay, Harry, cried Tom, if it's fight you are for,
I'll give you enough of it, I warrant you.
Tom was about eight months older than Harry, his equal in the
practice of arms, and much the stronger. But Harry was full as
42 THE FOOL OF QUALITY.
tall, and his motions, quicker than thought, prevented the ward
of the most experienced adversary.
Together they rushed like two little tigers. At once they struck
and parried, and, watching every opening, they darted their little
fists like engines at each other. But Tom, marking the quickness,
and feeling the smart of Harry's strokes, suddenly leaped within
his arms, bore him down to the earth, and triumphantly gave him
the first rising blow.
Harry rose indignant, but warned by the strength of his adversary
to better caution. He now fought more aloof; and, as Tom pressed
upon him, he at once guarded, struck, and wheeled like an ex-
perienced cock, without quitting the pit of honour.
Tom, finding himself wholly foiled by this Parthian method of
combat, again rushed upon his enemy, who was now aware of the
shock. They closed, they grappled, they caught each other by the
shoulders, joined head to head, and breast to breast, and stood like
two pillars, merely supported by their bearing against one another.
Again they shifted the left arm, caught each other about the neck,
and cuffed and punched at face and stomach, without mercy or re-
mission, till Tom, impatient of this length of battle, gave Harry
a side-swing, and Harry, giving Tom a trip at the same time, they
fell side by side together upon the earth.
They rose and retreated to draw breath, as by mutual consent.
They glared on one another with an eye of vindictive apprehen-
sion. For neither of them could now boast of more optics than
Polyphemus; and from their foreheads to their shoes they were
in one gore of blood.
Again they flew upon each other, again they struck, foined, and
defended, and alternately pressed on and retreated in turns, till
Harry, spying an opening, darted his fist like a shot into the re-
maining eye of his enemy. Tom, finding himself in utter dark-
ness, instantly sprung upon his foe, and endeavoured to grapple ;
but Harry with equal agility avoided the shock, and traversing here
and there, beat his adversary at pleasure ; till Tom cried out I
yield, I yield, Harry, for I can't see to fight any more.
Then Harry took Tom by the hand, and led him to his clothes,
and, having assisted him to dress, he next did the same friendly office
to himself. Then, arm-in-arm, they returned much more loving in
reality than they set out, having been beaten into a true respect
and affection for each other.
Some time before this the footman had joined his young lord, with
the several implements required for nutting. They had already
pulled down great quantities ; the young quality had stuffed their
pockets ; and the little plebeians who had assisted were now per-
mitted to be busy in gathering up the refuse. When all turning
at the cry of There is Harry, there is Tom ; they perceived our
two champions advancing leisurely, but hand in hand, as friends
and brothers.
They had left their clothes unbuttoned for the benefit of the
cooling air ; and, as they approached, their companions were frozen
into astonishment at the sight of their two friends all covered
with crimson.
TEE FOOL OF QUALITY. 43
They were neither able to advance to meet them, nor to speak
when they arrived. Till Lord Dicky first inquired into this bloody
catastrophe, and Harry remaining wholly silent on the subject,
blind Tommy cried out Why, Master Dicky, the truth is, that
Harry beat me because I beat you. Then Dicky, feeling a sudden
gush of gratitude and affection rising up in his bosom, looked wist-
fully on his brother, and said with a plaintive voice O brother
Harry, brother Harry, you are sadly hurt ; and, turning about, he
began to weep most bitterly. But Harry said Pshaw! brother
Dicky, don't cry man, I don't matter it of the head of a brass pin.
Then turning to the footman with Tom still in his hand, he
cried Here, John, take that bag of nuts and poor blind Tommy
to my mammy's, and tell dada that I desire him to see them both
safe home.
Friend. Sir, your hero is indeed a hero ; he must be every
body's hero.
Author. Sir, you do me a vast honour ; and I should be proud
of your further instructions toward his supporting the dignity of
the character you give him. Pray, what are the ingredient quali-
ties of which a hero is compounded? what idea have you formed
of such a personage? tell me, I beseech you, what is a hero, my
good friend?
Friend. Pshaw what a question! every fool knows that. A
hero is as though one should say a man of high achievement
who performs famous exploits who does things that are heroical
and in all his actions and demeanour is a hero indeed. Why do
you laugh? I will give you the instances approved throughout the
world ; recorded and duly celebrated by poets, painters, sculptors,
statuaries, and historians. There was the Assyrian Ninus, the Se-
sostris of Egypt, the Cyrus of Persia, the Alexander of Greece, the
Csesar of Eome, and partly in our own days, there was the Cond6 of
France, the Charles of Sweden, and Persia's Kouli Kan. What
the plague does the fellow laugh at?
Author. I am laughing to think what a blockhead Themistocles
was. Being asked whom he considered as the greatest of heroes
Not him who conquers but who saves, replied Themistocles ; not
the man who ruins but the man who erects ; who of a village can
make a city, or turn a despicable people into a great nation.
Friend. According to your notion of heroism, that boor and bar-
barian, Peter Alexiowitz of Russia, was the greatest hero that ever
lived.
Author. True, my friend ; for, of a numerous people, he disem-
bruted every one except himself. But then, in all equity, he ought
to divide his glory with Kate the washerwoman, who humanized
the man that humanized a nation.
Friend. Whom do you take to have been the greatest hero of
antiquity?
Author. Lycurgus, without comparison the greatest of heroes and
the greatest of legislators. In those very early days, the people of
Lacedrcmon were extremely rude and ignorant ; they acknowledged
no laws save the dictates of their own will, or the will of their
44 THE FOOL OF QUALITY.
rulers. Lycurgus might have assumed the sceptre, but his ambi-
tion aspired to a much more elevated and durable dominion over the
souls, manners, and conduct of this people and their posterity. He
framed a body of the most extraordinary institutions that ever
entered into the heart or head of man. Next to those of our
Divine Legislator, they were intended to form a new creature.
He prevailed upon the rich to make an equal distribution of their
lands with the poor. He prohibited the use of all such money as
was current among other nations, and thereby prohibited the im-
portation of the means and materials of pomp and luxury. He
enjoined them to feed in common, on simple and frugal fare. He
forbid all gorgeousness of furniture and apparel. In short, he
endeavoured to suppress every sensual and selfish desire, by in-
junctions of daily exercise, toil, and hardship, a patient endurance
of pain, and a noble contempt of death. At length, feigning some
occasion of being abroad for a season, he exacted an oath from the
Lacedaemonians, that they should strictly observe his laws, without
the smallest infringement, till his return. Thus, for the love of his
country he went into perpetual banishment from it. And he took
measures at his death, that his body should never be found, lest it
should be carried back to Sparta, and give his countrymen a colour
for dissolving their oath.
Friend. Laying Peter aside, who think you was the greatest hero
among the moderns ?
Author. To confess the truth, among all that I have heard or
read of, the hero whom I most affect was a madman, and the
lawgiver whom I most affect was a fool.
Friend. Troth, I believe you never would have been the writer,
you are at this day, if you had not adopted somewhat of both the
said qualities. But come, unriddle, I beseech you ; where may this
favourite hero and legislator be found?
Author. In a fragment of the Spanish history, bequeathed to
the world by one Signior Cervantes.
Friend. O ! have you led me to my old acquaintance ? pray, has
not your Pegasus some smatch of the qualities of the famous
liosinante ?
Author. Quite as chaste, I assure you. But I perceive that you
think I am drolling ; you do not suppose that you can ever be
seriously of the same opinion. Yet, if you demand of your own
memory, for what have the great heroes throughout history been
renowned ? it must answer, for mischief merely, for spreading deso-
lation and calamity among men. How greatly, how gloriously, how
divinely superior was our hero of the Mancha, who went about
righting of wrongs, and redressing of injuries, lifting up the fallen,
and pulling down those whom iniquity had exalted! In this his
marvellous undertaking, what buffetings, what bruisings, what
trampling of ribs, what pounding of packstaves did his bones not
endure! (Mine ached at the recital.) But toil was his bed of
down, and the house of pain was to him a bower of delight, w r hile
he considered himself as engaged in giving ease, advantage, and
happiness to others. If events did not answer to the enterprises
of his heart, it is not to be imputed to the man but to his malady ;
THE FOOL OF QUALITY. 45
for, had his power and success been as extensive as his benevolence,
all things awry upon earth would instantly have been set as straight
as a cedar.
But let me turn, with reverence, to kiss the hem of the robes of
the most respectable of all governors and legislators, Sancho Pansa.
What judgments ! what institutions ! how are Minos, and Solon, and
the inspired of the goddess ^Egeria here eclipsed ! Sancho, thou
wast a peasant, thou wast illiterate, thou wast a dunce for a man,
but an angel for a governor ; inasmuch as, contrary to the custom
of all other governors, thou didst not desire any thing, thou didst
not wish for any thing, thine eye was not bent to any thing save the
good of thy people ! therefore, thou could st not stray, thou hadst
no other way to travel. Could ^Esop's log have been moved to
action upon the same principle, the regency of storks had not pre-
vailed among men. How am I provoked, Pansa, when I see thee
insulted ! How am I grieved when I find thee deposed ! Saving
the realms of a certain majesty, I say, and sigh to myself that
the whole earth were as thine island of Barataria, and thou, Sancho,
the legislator and the ruler thereof!
Friend. I feel conviction ; I confess it. But tell me, I pray you,
why has the world, through all ages and nations, universally as-
cribed heroism and glory to conquest?
Author. Through the respect, as I take it, that they have for
power. Man is by nature weak ; he is born in and to a state of
dependence ; he therefore naturally seeks and looks about for help ;
and where he observes the greatest power, it is there that he
applies and prays for protection. Now, though this power should
be exerted to his damage instead of defence, it makes no alteration
in his reverence for it ; he bows while he trembles, and while he
detests he worships. In the present case, it is with man as it is
with God ; he is not so awful and striking ; he is not so much
attended to in the sunshine and gentle dews of his providence and
benignity, as in his lightnings and thunders, his clouds and his
tempests.
Hero, heros, and ijpws, in the three languages, signify a demigod,
or one who is superior to mere man. But how can this superiority
or distinction be shewn ? The serene acts of beneficence, the small
and still voice of goodness, are neither accompanied by noise nor
ostentation. It is uproar, and tumult rather, the tumbling of
sacked cities, the shrieks of outraged matrons, and the groans of
dying nations, that fill the trump of fame. Men of power and
ambition find distinction and glory very readily attainable in this
way; as it is incomparably more easy to destroy than to create, to
give death than to give life, to pull down than to build up, to bring
devastation and misery rather than plenty and peace and prosperity
upon earth.
Friend. Were not mankind, in this instance, as blind to their
own interests, as they were iniquitous in giving glory where shame
alone was due?
Author. In so doing, they proved at once the dupes and victims
of their own folly. Praise a child for his genius in pranks of
mischief and malevolence, and you quicken him in the direct road
46 THE FOOL OF QUALITY.
to the gallows. It is just so that this wise world has bred up its
heroic reprobates, by ascribing honour and acclamation to deeds
that called loudly for infamy and the gibbet ; for the world was an
ass from its very commencement, and it will continue a dunderhead
to the end.
From the beginning of things (a long time ago) the joint invention
of mankind has discovered but two methods of procuring sustenance
on earth : the first by the labour of their own hands, the second by
employing the hands of others.
All therefore are excluded, or at least ought to be excluded, from
such a world, who refuse to labour, or, what is still worse, who
disturb and prevent the labour of others.
Among those who will not labour, we may number all who have
the happiness of being born to no manner of end ; such as the
Monks of every country, the Dervises of Persia, the Brahmins of
India, the Mandarins of China, and the Gentlemen of these free and
polished nations.
These have nothing to do but to sleep it, to wake it ; to eat it,
to drink it ; to dance it, to doze it ; to riot it, to roar it ; and to
rejoice in the happy earnest which this world has given them of the
jollities of the next.
Among those who disturb the labour of others, I reckon all your
rascally Alexanders and Caesars, whether ancient or modern, who in
their fits of frenzy and folly scamper about, breaking the lanterns
and beating the watch of this world, to the great amazement of
women and terror of little children ; and who seem to think that
Heaven gave noses and heads for no end in nature but to be
blooded and cracked. In short, I have no patience when I hear
talk of these fellows. I am not half so fretted when I hear my
own works read. Go on, I request you, it may happen to put me
in temper.
CHAPTER V.
THE young gentlemen were now upon their return, and as they
approached the house they crowded about Harry to keep him from
being seen, till he took an opportunity of slipping away and stealing
up to his chamber. He now grew stiff and sore ; and his nurse,
having got an intimation of what had happened, hurried up to him,
and wept over him with abundant tears of cordial affection. She
straight undressed and put him to bed ; and having ordered some
white-wine whey, of which she made him drink plentifully, she
also undressed and went to bed to him ; and Harry, casting his
little arm about her neck, and putting his head in her bosom, was
fast asleep in a twinkling.
By this time John had returned from the execution of his com-
mission. He had been fully apprized by Tommy, on the road, of
all the circumstances relating to this bloody business ; and, going
to his lord and lady, he gave them the whole detail, occasionally
dwelling and expatiating on Harry's courage, his prowess, his
honour, and his generosity. They could now no longer forbear
indulging themselves with the sight of a child in whom they held
THE FOOL OF QUALITY. 47
themselves honoured above all titles. They stole gently up-stairs,
and having got a peep at Harry and observing that he was fast
asleep, they stole as softly back again, each inwardly exulting in
their glorious boy.
Our hero was scarce recovered from his wounds and bruises,
when on a clay he met a little beggar-boy at the hall-door, half
naked, and whining and shivering with cold. His heart was in-
stantly touched with wonted compassion, and taking him by the
hand What is your name, my poor little boy? says Harry.
Neddy, sir, says the child. And where 's your daddy and mammy?
0, sir ! answered Ned, I have no daddy nor mammy in the world
wide. Don't cry, don't cry! says Harry. I have several daddies
and mammies, and I will give you one or two of them. But where
did you leave your clothes, Neddy? I have not any, sir, reph'ed
the child in a piteous accent. Well, well, it don't matter, Neddy,
for I have more clothes too, says Harry. So, taking him again by
the hand, he led him up to his apartment without being perceived of
any; and, helping him to strip, he ran to his closet for the shirt which
he had last thrown off, and put it on the new-comer with equal haste
and delight. He next ran for the entire suit that his bearded dada
had given him ; and having helped and shewn him how to put on
the breeches, he drew on the stockings and shoes with his own
hands. To these succeeded the coat and waistcoat ; and Ned was
now full as well rigged as his benefactor.
Never had our hero enjoyed himself so highly as while he was
thus employed. When he had finished his operations, he chuckled
and smiled, turned Ned round and round, walked here and there
about him, and was as proud of him as if he had been wholly of
his own making.
He now again became thoughtful, forecasting in his mind the
particulars that might further be requisite for the accommodation
of his guest ; for he was grown too fond of him to think of parting
suddenly. He then recollected an adjoining lumber-room, and
taking Ned with him, they found a little old mattress, which, with
united strength, they dragged forth, and lodged in a convenient
corner of the closet. To this they added a pair of old blankets ;
and Harry, having spread them for Ned's repose in the best manner
be was able, asked his dependant if he was not hungry. Yes very,
very hungry, indeed, sir! cried Ned. No sooner said than Harry
flew down to the kitchen, and looking about, and spying a large
porringer of milk and a luncheon of bread, that one of the servants
had provided for a young favourite of their own, he seized upon
them like a hawk, and, hastening again to his chamber, delivered
them to Neddy, who already had half-devoured them with his
eyes. Ned instantly fell to with the rapture of a cormorant, or
any rapture that can be supposed less than that of his friend Harry,
who stood over him with the feelings of a parent turtle that feeds
his young with the meat derived from his own bowels.
For a few days Harry kept his dependant shut up in his chamber,
or closet, without the privity of any of the family, except nurse,
to whom he had revealed the affair under the seal of the strictest
secrecy.
48 TttE FOOL OF QUALITY.
But on a cross-day, Susy, the housemaid, having entered with a
new broom into our hero's apartment, perceived in a comer the
tattered deposit of Ned's original robings, and lifting them at a
cautious distance with a finger and thumb, she perceived also, as
many other philosophers have done, that there is no part of this
globe which is not peopled with nations of animals, if man had but
attention and optics duly accommodated to the vision. She dropped
the living garment as though she had taken up a burning horse-
shoe ; and was instantly peopled, by her prolific imagination, with
tribes of the same species from head to foot.
In this fit of disgust, Susy happened, unfortunately, to step into
the closet, and spied Ned in a dark corner, where he had squatted
and drawn himself up to the size of a hedgehog.
She immediately flew at him, like one of the Eumenides, and
dragged him forth to the light, as Hercules is said to have hauled
Cacus from his den. She questioned him with a voice of implacable
authority, and Ned, with humble and ingenuous tears, confessed
the whole adventure. But Susy, no way melted, exclaimed
What, sirrah! have you and your master Harry a mind to
breed an affection in the house? I will remit of no such doings,
for I have an utter conversion to beggars'-brats and vermin. She
then commanded him to bundle up his old rags, and, driving him
down-stairs before her, she dismissed him from the hall-door with
a pair of smart boxes on the side of his head, and ordered him
never more to defend her sight.
Poor Ned went weeping and wailing from the door, when who
should he see, at about fifty paces distant, but his beloved patron
Harry, who had been cutting a switch from the next hedge. To
him he ran with precipitation. Harry, touched with a compassion,
not free from resentment, to see his favourite in tears, demanded
the cause of his apparent distress, which Ned truly related. Our
hero thereupon became thoughtful and moody; and, judging that
Susy had not acted thus without authority, he conceived a general
disgust at a family who had treated him so injuriously in the
person of his Neddy; but, comforting his dependant the best he
could Come, Neddy, says he, don't cry, my man. I will bring
you, that I will, to my own dear dada, and he will welcome and
love you for my sake. Then, making his way through a small
breach in the neighbouring hedge, he ordered Ned to follow him,
and flew across the field like a bird of passage, in a direct line to
his patron's.
The old gentleman saw him approaching, and gave sign to his
ancient domestic, who withdrew with precipitation. He received
and caressed our hero with more than usual transport And who,
my dear, says he, is this pretty little boy that you have got with
you ? Harry then, like the Grecian Demosthenes, taking time to
warm himself with the recollection of his own ideas, and setting his
person forth with an action and ardour that determined to prevail,
made the following oration
Why, dada, I must tell you how this poor little boy, for he is
a very poor little boy, and his name is Neddy, sir, and he has no
friend in the wide world but you and I, sir ; and so, sir, as I was
THE FOOL OF QUALITY. 49
telling you, he comes to the door, crying sadly for cold and hunger,
for he had no clothes, no daddy nor mammy at all, sir, and I had
a many of them, and that was not fair you know, sir ; and I was
in the humour to give him all the dadas and mammas I had in the
world except you, sir, and mammy nurse. And so I took him up-
stairs, and I put the clothes upon him that you gave me when
I was a poor little boy, sir ; for nobody had to say to them but you
and I, sir ; and I knew that you would pity poor little Neddy more
than I pitied him myself, sir. And so, dada, they took my poor
little Neddy to-day, and boxed him, and beat him sadly, and turned
him out of doors ; and so I met him crying and roaring, and so you
know, sir, how I had nothing to do but to bring him to you, sir,
or to stay and cry with him for company, sir.
Here orator Harry ceased to speak, except by his tears, which
he could no longer restrain, and which proceeded to plead most
emphatically for him. But his patron took him in his arms, and
kissed the drops from both eyes, and said Do not cry, my darling,
for I am yours, my Harry, and all that I have is yours ; and if you
had brought a whole regiment of poor little Neddies with you,
they should be all welcome to me, for your sake, my Harry.
Then Harry sprung up and caught his patron about the neck,
so that it was some time before the old gentleman could get loose.
But Harry, says he, I am going just now to leave this country ;
will you and your man Neddy come along with me? Over the
world wide, dada! says Harry; but where are you going, sir?
I am going a-begging, Harry. O that will be brave sport! says
Harry. I will tell you what you shall do, dada. "What's that, my
love? Why, sir, says Harry, you must get a great bag, like the
old man and little child that was at door t'other day ; and Neddy
and I will beg for you, sir ; and we will put all that we get into
your great bag, as that good little child did for his daddy, without
touching a bit ; though he was hungry enough himself, poor fellow,
I warrant. But don't let us go to beg to papa's door, sir ; for if
you do, they will box and beat us, and drive us away, as they did
to poor little Neddy to-day, sir.
The old gentleman, thereat, had his countenance divided betwixt
the rising tear and the bursting laugh. But, taking Harry by the
hand, he said No, no, my heavenly creature, I am not going to
beg of any man living, but to beg of God to pour down his full
weight of blessings upon my Harry, and to endeavour to confirm
them to him, both here and hereafter, by my care and instructions.
Having thus spoken, he put a large cake into the hand of each
of the children, and causing them to drink a full glass of small
white wine, he took them into a back-yard, where a light coach
with six horses, and three servants ready mounted, attended ; and
having placed his young companions, and seated himself between
them, away the coach drove at a sweeping gallop.
About the time that our hero and his patron set out, nurse went
up-stairs with a most bountiful cut of home-baked bread and butter,
for the amusement of the young caitiff whom she had left in the
closet ; but not finding him there, she hastily dropped her pro-
vender on the first window she met, and, hurrying down to the
E
50 THE FOOL OF QUALITY.
kitchen, earnestly inquired for the little beggar-boy whom Master
Harry had taken into his service. At this question all the servants
stood in silent amazement except Susy, who bridling up, and as-
suming the whole importance of her station Why, nurse, sa;
you must not oppose that I am come here to sweep and to clean
after lousy little flagrants; it was enough to breed an antacrion,
that it was, hi the house ; so what magnifies many words, I took
the little dirty brat, and cuflTd him out of doors. You did, hussy,
says nurse ; you dare to affront and vex my child my little man
the honour and pride of all the family! And so saying, she ups
with her brawny arm, and gave Susy such a douse on the side of
the head, as left her fast asleep for an hour and upward. Then,
running up-stairs again, she went searching and clamouring for
Harry about the house, in order to comfort and condole with him
for his loss.
Dinner was now served up, and the company seated, and all the
servants ran severally here and there, repeatedly summoning Master
Harry to attend ; but Harry was out of hearing by many a mile.
When the cloth was removed, nurse entered with an aspect, half
in tears and half distracted, and exclaimed that her child was not
to be found. And what, nurse, says the earl, do you think is be-
come of him ? I hope, my lord, says she, that he is either strayed
to his daddy or to the dumb gentleman's. Then messengers were
instantly despatched to both houses, who speedily returned with
tidings that Master Harry had not been seen at his foster-father's,
and that no one was at home at the house of the dumb gentleman.
The business now became serious and alarming ; the whole house
was in commotion, and all the domestics, and our hero's loving
nurse, with Lord Dicky in her hand, ran searching through the
gardens, the fields, and the groves, that resounded on all sides with
the name of the absentee.
On their return from a disquisition, as fruitless as solicitous,
nurse declared her apprehensions that Harry had gone off with a
little favourite boy whom he had taken into service, and whom the
housemaid that morning had beaten out of doors. Susy, being
nearly recovered, and now called and questioned hereon, was com-
pelled to confess the fact, though in terms less haughty and less
elegant than usual ; when my lord, looking sternly at her And
who, you impudent slut, he cried, gave you authority to turn any
one out of my house whom my noble and generous boy was pleased
to bring in? Get you instantly away, and never let me be so un-
happy as to see that face again. By this time the whole village
and neighbourhood, as well as this noble family, were in trouble
and alarms for the loss of their little favourite, when a countryman
entered in a sweaty haste, and desired without preface to be ad-
mitted to the earl. My lord, says he, I think I can give you some
news of your dear child. As I was returning home on the London
road, I saw a coach and six driving towards me at a great rate,
and though it passed me in haste, I marked that the gentleman
with the beard was in it, and that he had two children with him,
one on each hand, though I had not time to observe their faces.
Here is something for your news, said the earl; it may be
THE FOOL OF QUALITY. 51
as you say. Here, John, take a posse of the servants along with
you ; go in haste to that man's house ; if no one answers, break open
the door, and bring me word of what you can learn concerning him.
John, who was the house-steward, hurried instantly on his
commission ; and finding all in silence after loud and repeated
knockings, he and his myrmidons burst open the door, and rushing
in ran up and down through all the apartments. They found the
house richly furnished, a library of choice books above-stairs, a
beaufiet full of massy plate, and every thing in order, as if pre-
pared for the reception of a family of distinction. At this they all
stood astonished, till John, casting his eye toward a table in the
street parlour, perceived a paper, which he hastily snatched up,
and found to be a letter duly folded and sealed, and addressed to
his lord. Exulting at this discovery, he left some of the servants
to watch the goods, and hurried back with all possible speed to
his master.
My lord, says John, entering, and striving to recover breath, the
dumb gentleman, as they call him, must be a main rich man, for the
very furniture of his house cannot be worth less than some
thousands of pounds. John then presented the letter, which the
earl hastily broke open, and found to be as follows :
"MY LOKD, I am at length presented with an opportunity of
carrying off your little Harry the greatest treasure that ever
parents were blessed with.
"The distress that I feel in foreseeing the affliction that his
absence will cause to your whole family, has not been able to
prevail for the suspension of this enterprise, as the child's interest
and happiness outweighs, with me, all other considerations.
" Permit me, however, to assure your lordship that our darling
is in very safe and very affectionate hands ; and that it shall be the
whole concern and employment of my life to render and to return
him to you, in due time, the most accomplished and most perfect
of all human beings.
" In the mean while your utmost search and inquiry after us
will be fruitless. I leave to your lordship my house and furniture
as a pledge and assurance of the integrity of my intentions.
And am, &c."
The mystery of our hero's flight was now, in a great measure,
unravelled ; but no one could form any rational conjecture touch-
ing the motives of the old gentleman's procedure in the case ;
and all were staggered at his leaving such a mass of wealth behind
him.
As the falling on of a dark night rendered all pursuit, for that
time, impracticable, my lord ordered the servants to bed, that they
might rise before day; and then to take every horse he had,
coach-cattle and all, and to muster and mount the young men
of the village, and to pursue after the fugitives by different roads,
according to the best likelihood or intelligence they might receive.
In fhis hopeful prospect, the house was again in some measure
composed ; all, except poor nurse, who would not be comforted,
2
52 THE FOOL OF QUALITY.
neither could be prevailed upon to enter in at the doors ; but
all night on the cold stairs, or rambling through the raw air,
continued clapping and wringing her hands, and bewailing the irre-
parable loss of her Harry.
On the following day, my lord ordered a minute inventory to
be taken of all the furniture in the forsaken mansion-house ; and
further appointed Harry's foster-father, with his family, to enter
into possession, and to take care of the eifects, till such time as
the proprietor should renew his claim.
After three tedious days, and as many expecting nights, the
posse that went in quest of our runaways returned, all drooping
and dejected, most of them slowly leading their overspent horses,
and universally bespattered or covered with mire, without any
equivalent of comfortable tidings to balance the weight of their
languor and fatigue.
The happiness or wretchedness of human life, as it should seem,
does not so much depend on the loss or acquisition of real ad-
vantage, as on the fluctuating opinions and imaginations of men.
The absence of this infant, who, but a few months before, had no
manner of interest in the views, affections, or solicitudes of this
noble family, appeared now as the loss of all their honours and
fortunes: a general face of mourning seemed to darken every
apartment ; and my lord and lady no more paid visits, nor received
public company. They were, however, inventive in many contri-
vances for amusing and consoling their darling Dicky; but even
this was to little purpose, for he was often found silently languish-
ing in corners, or crying 0, where's my brother Harry, my own
sweet brother Harry ! shall I never see my own brother Harry
any more ?
My lord had already despatched a multitude of circular letters
to all his acquaintances, with other notices, throughout the king-
dom, containing offers of ample rewards for the recovery of his
child. But finding all ineffectual, he caused advertisements to
the same purpose to be repeatedly inserted in all the public
papers ; as the same, no doubt, are still extant, and may be found
in the musty chronicles of those days.
Within a few weeks after the publishing of these advertisements,
my lord received a letter respecting his son Harry, that afforded
great consolation to him and his lady ; insomuch that, with the
help of the lenient hand of time, in less than the space of twelve
months this noble family were restored to their former cheerfulness
and tranquillity.
But to return to the situation in which we left our hero : the
coach drove on at a round rate, and the children continued in high
glee, and thought this kind of conveyance the finest sport imaginable.
When they entered a space on the first common, the coachman
looked about to take care that no one was in sight ; and, turning
to the right hand, he held gently on till he came to another great
road, on which he drove at his former rate. This he did again
at the next common, and coming to another road that led also to
London, and night now approaching, he put up at the first great inn
he came to.
THE FOOL OF QUALITY. 53
Harry's patron had the precaution to keep his great-coat muffled
about his face, so that no one could observe his beard, till they were
shown to a room, and fire and candles were lighted up. Then his
ancient friend and domestic having provided scissors and imple-
ments for shaving, locked the door, and set to work in the presence
of the children.
Harry was all attention during the whole process ; and when the
operation was quite completed, he drew near to his patron with a
cautious kind of jealousy, and looking up to his face with the tears
in his little eyes Speak to me, sir, says he ; pray, speak to me.
It is, answered the old gentleman, the only comfort of my life to
be with you, and to speak to you, my Harry. The child, hearing
the well-known voice of friendship, immediately cleared again, and
reaching up his little arms to embrace his patron 0, indeed, say?
he, I believe you are my own dada still !
Though Harry was now reconciled to the identity of his friend,
yet he felt a secret regret for the absence of his beard ; for he
loved all and every part of him so entirely that the loss of a hair
appeared a loss and a want to the heart of Harry.
After an early supper, and two or three small glasses of wine
per man, this gentleman, whom his servants had now announced
by the name of Mr. Fenton, proposed hide-and-go-seek to his
associates. This invitation was accepted with transport ; and after
they were cloyed with hide-and-seek, they all played tagg till they
were well warmed.
Mr. Fenton ordered a pallet into the chamber for James, his
faithful domestic, and little Ned. Then, helping to undress Harry,
he put him first to bed ; and hastening after, he took his darling
to his bosom, and tenderly pressed him to a heart that loved him
more than all the world, and more than that world ten times told.
In about three days more they arrived safe at Hampstead, and
stopping at the court of a large house, that was delightfully
situated, they were welcomed by a gentlewomanly-looking matron
whom James had fixed for housekeeper, about a fortnight before.
The next day Mr. Fenton and his blithe companions were
attended at table by James and the two footmen.
As soon as the latter grace was said, and the cloth taken away
Harry, says Mr. Fenton, it is now our turn to wait on James and
his fellow-servants ; for God made us all to be servants to each
other : one man is not born a bit better than another ; and he is
the best and greatest of all who serves and attends the most, and
requires least to be served and attended upon. And my precious,
he that is a king to-day, if so it shall please God, may become a
beggar to-morrow, and it is good that people should be prepared
against all that may happen.
"Having so said, he took his associates down to the hall, just as
the servants had sat down to dinner. He gave his domestics the
wink, and beginning to set the example, asked Mrs. Hannah, and
Mr. James, and Mr. Frank, and Mr. Andrew, what they would
please to have ? The servants readily falling in with their master's
scheme, ordered Harry to bring such a thing, and Ned to fetch such
a thing, and Harry to do this, and Harry to do that : while Harry,
54 THE FOOL OF QUALITY.
with a graceful action, and more beautiful than Ganymede, the
cupbearer of the gods, flew cheerfully about from side to side, pre-
venting the wishes of all at table ; so that they poured upon him
a thousand blessings from the bottom of their hearts, and would
not now have parted with him for the mighty rewards which his
father some time after proposed for his recovery.
Within a fortnight after this, Mr. James, the house-steward, fur-
nished a large lumber-room with hundreds of coats, out-coats,
shirts, waistcoats, breeches, stockings, and shoes, of different sorts
and sizes, but all of warm and clean, though homely, materials.
When this was done, Mr. Fenton led his favourite up to the
stores, and said My Harry, you see all these things, and I make
a present of all these things to my Harry. And now tell me, my
love, what will you do with them? Why, dada, says Harry, you
know that I cannot wear them myself. No, my dear, says Mr.
Fenton, for you have clothes enough beside, and some of them
would not fit you, and others would smother you. What then
will you do with them, will you burn them, or throw them away ?
O, that would be very naughty and wicked indeed ! says Harry.
No, dada, as I do not want them myself, I will give them to those
that do. That will be very honestly done of you, says Mr. Fenton;
for, in truth, they have a better right to them, my Harry, than you
have, and that which you cannot use cannot belong to you. So
that, in giving you these things, my darling, it should seem as
if I made you no gift at all. O, a very sweet gift ! says Harry.
How is that? says Mr. Fenton. Why, the gift of doing good to
other people, sir. Mr. Fenton, then stepping back, and gazing on
our hero, cried Whoever attempts to instruct thee, my angel,
must himself be instructed of heaven, who speaks by that sweet
mouth.
But Harry, it would not be discreet of you to give these things
to the common beggars who come every day to our door; give
them victuals and halfpence or pence a-piece, and welcome ; but
if you give such beggars twenty suits of clothes, they will cast
them all off and put on their rags again, to move people to pity
them. But when you spy any poor travellers going the road, and
your eyes see that they are naked, or your heart tells you that
they are hungry, then do not wait till they beg of you, but go and
beg of them to favour you with their acceptance ; then take them
unto the fire and warm them and feed them, and when you have
so done, take them up to your storeroom and clothe them with
whatever you think they want ; and believe me, my Harry, when-
ever you are cold, or hungry, or wounded, or in want, or in sickness
yourself, the very remembrance of your having clothed, and fed,
and cured, and comforted the naked and the hungry, the wounded
and the afflicted, will be warmth, and food, and medicine, and balm
to your own mind.
While Mr. Fenton spoke, the muscles of Harry's expressive
countenance, like an equally tuned instrument, uttered unisons to
every word he heard.
From this day forward, Harry and Ned by turns were frequently
out on the watch ; and often single, or in pairs, or by whole families,
THE FOOL OF QUALITY. 65
Harry would take in a poor father and mother, with their help-
less infants, driven perhaps from house or home by fire or other
misfortune, or oppressive landlord, or ruthless creditor ; and having
warmed, and fed, and clothed, and treated the old ones as his
parents, and the little ones as his brothers and sisters, he would
give them additional money for charges on the road, and send them
away the happiest of all people except himself.
By this time, Mr. Fenton had inquired into the circumstances
and characters of all the poor in the town and throughout the
precincts ; and, having refuted or confirmed the intelligence he had
received, by a personal inspection and visit from house to house,
and having made entries of all such as he deemed real objects
and worthy of his beneficence, he invited the heads of the several
families to take a dinner with him every Sunday at his hall.
On the following Sunday there came about thirty of these
visitants, which number soon increased to fifty weekly guests.
On entering, they found the cloth ready spread, and Mr. James,
having counted heads, laid a crown in silver upon every plate,
which first course was a most relishing sauce to all that followed.
A plentiful dinner was then introduced, and the guests being seated,
Mr. Fenton, Harry, Ned, and the four domestics attended, and
disposed themselves in a manner the most ready to supply the
wants of the company. The guests, all abashed and confounded
at what they saw, sat some time with open mouth and unswallowed
victuals ; much less did they presume to apply to the waiters for
any article they wanted, till, being encouraged and spirited up by
the cheerfulness, ease, and readiness of their attendants, they be-
came by degrees quite happy and jovial ; and, after a saturating
meal and an enlivening cup, they departed with elevated spirits,
with humanized manners, and with hearts warmed in affection
toward every member of this extraordinary house.
By the means of this weekly bounty, these reviving families were
soon enabled to clear their little debts to the chandlers, which had
compelled them to take up every thing at the dearest hand. They
were also further enabled to purchase wheels and other implements,
with the materials of flax and wool, for employing the late idle
hands of their household. They now appeared decently clad, and
with happy countenances ; their wealth increased with their indus-
try, and the product of the employment of so many late useless
members became a real accession of wealth to the public. So true
it is that the prosperity of this world, and of every nation and
society therein, depends solely on the industry or manufactures of
the individuals. And so much more nobly did this private patron
act than all ancient legislators, or modern patrons and landlords,
whose selfishness, if they had but common cunning, or common-
sense, might instruct them to increase their proper rents, and en-
rich their native country, by supplying the hands of all the poor
within their influence with the implements and materials of the
prosperity of each.
In the mean time, Mrs. Hannah daily instructed the children in
the reading of English ; neither was Mr. Fenton inattentive to any
means that might preserve and promote the health, action, and
56 THE FOOL OF QUALITY.
corporal excellences of his little champion. He had a large lawn
behind his garden ; and hither he summoned, three times in every
week, all the boys of the vicinage who were between two years
advanced above the age of our hero. To these he appointed pre-
miums for foot-ball, hurling, wrestling, leaping, running, cudgelling,
and buffing. But the champions were enjoined to invest their fists
with little mufflers, insomuch that, how great soever their vigour
might be, the bruises that they gave stopped short of mortality.
Now, though these premiums were almost universally adjudged
to the party of which Harry then happened to be a member, or
individually to himself for his single prowess and pre-eminence, yet
he never would consent to bear the prize from the field, but either
gave it to some favourite among those with whom he had been
associated, or to the particular champion whom he had worsted in
contest ; for he felt the shame and defeat of his mortified adversary,
and consolingly hinted at the injustice of the judges, and reformed
their error by the restoration of the reward.
One day, while Harry was watching to intercept poor travellers,
as eagerly as a fowler watches for the rising of his game, he heard
a plaintive voice behind the hedge, as he thought, in the opposite
field. He flew across the road, and, passing through a small turn-
utile, soon found the unhappy objects he sought for. He stood for
some time like a statue, and his compassion became too strong for
tears or utterance; but, suddenly turning and flying back again,
he rushed with precipitation into the room where Mr. Fenton was
writing a letter. What is the matter? said Mr. Fenton, starting
what has frighted you, my Harry what makes you so pale ? To
this Harry replied not ; but catching hold of his hand, and pulling
with all his force O come ! says he ; O come, dada, and see !
Mr. Fenton then got up, and suffered himself to be led where
the child pleased to conduct him, without another word being
asked or answered on either side.
When they were come into the field, Mr. Fenton observed a man
Bitting on the ground. His clothes seemed, from head to foot, as
the tattered remainder of better days. Through a squalid wig and
beard, his pale face appeared just tinctured with a faint and sickly
red; and his hollow eyes were fixed upon the face of a woman,
whose head he held on his knees, and who looked to be dead, or
dying, though without any apparent agony ; while a male infant,
about four years of age, was half stretched on the ground, and half
across the woman's lap, with its little nose pinched by famine, and
its eyes staring about wildly, though without attention to any
thing. Distress seemed to have expended its utmost bitterness
on these objects, and the last sigh and tear to have been already
exhausted.
Unhappy man ! cried Mr. Fenton, pray, who or what are you ?
To which the stranger faintly replied, without lifting his eyes
Whoever you may be, disturb not the last hour of those who wish
to be at peace.
Run, Harry, says Mr. Fenton, desire all the servants to come
to me immediately, and bid Mrs. Hannah bring some hartshorn
and a bottle of cordial.
TEE FOOL OF QUALITY. 57
Away flew Harry, like feathered Mercury, on his god-like errand.
Forth issued Mr. James, Frank, and Andrew; and last came
Mrs. Hannah, with the housemaid and cordials.
Hannah stooped in haste, and applied hartshorn to the nose of
the woman, who appeared wholly insensible. After some time,
her bosom heaved with a long-rising and subsiding sigh, and her
eyes feebly opened, and immediately closed again. Then Mrs. Han-
nah and the housemaid, raising her gently between them, got a
little of the cordial into her mouth, and, bending her backwards,
they observed that she swallowed it. Then James, Frank, Andrew,
and the housemaid, joining their forces, lifted her up, and bore
her, as easy as possible, toward the house ; while Harry caught
up her infant, as a pismire does its favourite embryo in a time of
distress, in order to lodge it in a place of protection and safety.
In the mean time, Mr. Fenton and Mrs. Hannah put their harts-
horn with great tenderness to the nostrils of the stranger, and
requested him to take a sip of the cordial ; but he, turning up his
dim though expressive eyes, feebly cried Are you a man or an
angel? and directly fainted away.
They rubbed his* temples with the spirits, and did their utmost
to recover him ; but a sudden gust of grateful passion had proved
too strong for his constitution. On the return of the servants he
was also carried in. A physician was instantly sent for ; beds were
provided and warmed in haste the new guests were all gently
undressed, and laid therein ; and, being compelled to swallow a little
sack- whey, they recovered to a kind of languid sensibility.
The physician gave it as his opinion, that this unhappy family
were reduced to their present state by excess of grief and famine ;
that nourishment should be administered in very small propor-
tions; and that they should be kept as quiet as possible, for a
fortnight at least.
While all imaginable care is taking for the recovery of these poor
people, we beg leave to return to the aifairs of their protectors.
CHAPTER VI.
ABOUT a month before this, Mr. Fenton had engaged one Mr.
Vindex, the schoolmaster of the town, to come for an hour every
evening, and initiate the two boys in their Latin grammar. But
he had a special caution given him with respect to the generous
disposition of our hero, which was said to be induced to do any
thing by kindness ; but to be hardened and roused into opposition
by severity.
In about ten days after the late adventure, Mr. Fenton was called
to London, where he was detained about three weeks, in settling
his books with his Dutch correspondents, and in calling in a very
large arrear of interest that was due to him upon his deposits in
the funds.
During his absence, Mr. Vindex began to assume a more expanded
authority, and gave a free scope to the surly terrors of his station.
58 THE FOOL OF QUALITY.
Ned was by nature a very lively, but very petulant boy ; and
when Vindex reproved him with the imperial brow and voice of the
Great Mogul, Ned cast upon him an eye of such significant con-
tempt, as no submissions or suflerings, on the part of the offender,
could ever after compensate.
The next day Mr. Vindex returned, doubly armed, with a mon-
strous birch-rod in one hand, and a ferule in the other. The first
he hung up, in terrorem, as a meteor is said to hang in the heavens,
threatening future castigation to the children of men. The second
he held as determined upon present action ; nor was he unmindful
of any hook whereon to hang a fault, so that, travelling from right
to left and from left to right, he so warmed the hands of the un-
fortunate Edward, as ruined the sunny economy of his countenance,
and reduced him to a disagreeable partnership with the afflicted.
On the departure of Vindex, though Ned's drollery was dismayed,
his resentment was by no means eradicated; for the principle of
Ned was wholly agreeable to the motto of a very noble escutcheon ;
and Nemo me impune lace-ssit was a maxim of whose impropriety not
St. Anthony himself could persuade him.
All night he lay ruminating and brooding on mischief in his
imagination ; and having formed the outlines of his plan toward
morning, he began to chuckle and comfort himself, and exult in the
execution. He then revealed his project to his bedfellow, Mr.
James, who was greatly tickled therewith, and promised to join in
the plot.
Full against the portal that opened upon the schoolroom, there
stood an ancient and elevated chair, whose form was sufficiently
expressive of its importance. Mr. Vindex had selected this ma-
jestic piece of furniture as alone suitable to the dignity of his
exalted station ; for he judiciously considered that, if thrones and
benches were taken from among men, there would be an end of all
dominion and justice upon earth.
Through the centre of the seat of this chair of authority, Ned
got Mr. James to drill a small hole, not discernible except on a
very minute scrutiny. He then provided a cylindrical stick of
about six inches in length, to one end of which he fastened a
piece of lead, and in the other end he fixed the end of a large
needle. This needle had been a glover's, of approved metal, keen
and polished, and three-square toward the point, for a quick and
ready penetration of tough leather. He next fastened two small
cords transversely to the leaden extremity of the stick ; and, James
assisting, they turned the chair with the bottom upward, and
tacked the four ends of the cords in such a manner as answered to
the four cardinal points of the compass ; while the stick remained
suspended in an upward direction, with the point of the needle just
so far through the drill, as put it upon a level with the surface
of the seat. Lastly, they fastened a long and well-waxed thread
about the middle of the stick, and drawing this thread over the
upper rung, they dropped the end of it just under Ned's stool, and
replaced the seat of learning in its former position.
Greatly did Ned parade it, when on trial he found that his
machine answered to a miracle; for the stick being restrained
THE FOOL OF QUALITY. 59
from any motion, save that in a direction to the zenith, on the
slightest twitch of the thread the needle instantly mounted four-
sixths of two inches above the surface of the seat, and was quickly
recalled by the revulsion of the lead.
At the appointed hour of magisterial approach, in comes Mr.
Vindex. Master Harry and Ned are called. Each seizes his book,
and takes his seat as usual in a line, nearly diagonal to the right
and left corner of the chair of authority. Mr. Vindex assumes the
throne ; but scarce was he crowned when Ned gives the premedi-
tated intimation to his piercer, and up bounces Vindex, and gives two
or three capers as though he had been suddenly stung by a tarantula.
He stares wildly about puts his hand behind him with a touch of
tender condolence returns to the chair peers all over it with
eyes of the most prying inspection ; but, not trusting to the
testimony of his ocular sense in a case that so very feelingly re-
futed its evidence, he moved his fingers over and over every part
of the surface ; but found all smooth and fair, in spite of the late
sensible demonstration to the contrary.
Down again, with slow caution, subsided Mr. Vindex, recon-
noitring the premises to the right hand and to the left.
As his temper was not now in the most dulcet disposition, he
first looked sternly at Ned, and then turning toward Harry, with
an eye that sought occasion for present quarrel, he questioned him
morosely on some articles of his lesson ; when Ned, not enduring
such an indignity to the patron of his life and fortunes, gave a
second twitch with better will, and much more lively than the
first; and up again sprung Vindex with redoubled vigour and
action, and bounded, plunged, and pranced about the room, as be-
witched. He glared, and searched all about with a frantic pene-
tration, and peered into every corner for the visible or invisible
perpetrators of these mischiefs ; when, hearing a little titter, he
began to smell a fox, and, with a malignant determination of
better note for the future, he returned with a countenance of dis-
sembled placability, and, resuming his chair, began to examine the
boys with a voice apparently tuned by good temper and affection.
During this short scene, poor Ned happened to make a little
trip in his rudiments, when Vindex turned, and cried to our hero
Mr. Harry, my dear, be so kind as to get up and reach me yon
ferule.
These words had not fully passed the lips of the luckless pre-
ceptor, when Ned plucked the string with his utmost force, and
Vindex thought himself at least impaled on the spot. Up he shot
once more, like a sudden pyramid of flame. The ground could no
longer retain him he soared aloft, roared and raved like a thou-
sand infernals. While Ned, with an aspect of the most condoling
hypocrisy, and words broke by a tone of mourning, tenderly
inquired of his ailments.
Vindex turned upon him an eye of jealous malignity, and, taking
a sudden thought, he flew to the scene of his repeated infliction,
and turning up the bottom of the seat of pain, this complicated
effort, of extraordinary genius lay revealed, and exposed to vulgar
contemplation.
60 THE FOOL OF QUALITY.
He first examined minutely into the parts and construction of
this wonderful machinery, whose efficacy he still so feelingly recol-
lected. He then drew the string, and admired with what a
piercing agility the needle could be actuated by so distant a hand.
And lastly, and deliberately, he tore away, piece by piece, the
whole composition, as his rascally brethren, the Turks, have also
done, in their antipathy to all the monuments of arts, genius, and
learning, throughout the earth.
In the mean while, our friend Edward sat trembling and frying
in his skin. All his drollery had forsaken him ; nor had he a single
cast of contrivance for evading the mountain of mischiefs that he
saw impending. How, indeed, could he palliate ? what had he to
hope or plead in mitigation of the penalty, where, in the party so
highly offended, he saw his judge and his executioner ?
Mr. Vindex had now the ball wholly at his own foot ; and that
Ned was ever to have his turn again, was a matter no way pro-
mised by present appearances.
Vindex at length looked smilingly about him, with much fun in
his face, but more vengeance in his heart Mr. Edward, said he,
perhaps you are not yet apprised of the justice of the Jewish laws,
that claim an eye for an eye, and a breach for a breach ; but I, my
child, will fully instruct you in the fitness and propriety of them.
Then, reaching at the rod, he seized his shrinking prey as a kite
trusses a robin ; he laid him, like a little sack, across his own stool ;
off go the trousers, and with the left hand he holds him down, while
the right is laid at him with the application of a woodman, who
resolves to clear part of the forest before noon.
Harry, who was no way privy to the machination of the needle,
now approached, and interposed in behalf of his unhappy servant.
He petitioned, he kneeled, he wept ; but his prayers and tears were
cast to the winds and the rocks, till Vindex had reduced poor Ned
to a plight little different from that of St. Bartholomew.
Mr. Vindex justly deemed that he had now given a lesson of such
ample instruction, as might dispense with his presence for some
days at least.
In the mean time, Ned's flogging held him confined to his bed,
where he had full time and leisure to contrive with one end, a just
and worthy retribution for the sufferings of the other.
Harry went often to sit and condole with Ned, in this the season
of his calamity ; and as he had now conceived a strong aversion to
the pedagogue, on account of his barbarity, he offered to assist his
friend in any measures deemed adequate to the stripes and injuries
he had received.
The house of Mr. Vindex was a large and old-fashioned building,
with a steep flight of stone stairs, and a spacious landing-place
before the door. Ned was again on his legs; the night was ex-
cessive dark, and the family of the preceptor had just finished an
early supper.
About this time a gentle rapping was heard, and a servant open-
ing the door, looked this way and that way, and called out re-
peatedly to know who was there ; but no voice replying, he retired
and shut all to again. Scarce was he re-entered "when he hears
THE FOOL OF QUALITY. 61
rap, rap, rap, rap. The fellow's anger was now kindled, and
opening the door suddenly, he bounced out at once, in order to
seize the runaway ; but seeing no creature, he began to feel a
coming chillness, and his hairs to stir, as though each had got the
life of an eel. Back he slunk, closed the door with the greatest
tenderness, and crept down to reveal a scantling of his fears to his
fellows in the kitchen.
Now, though men and maids laughed heartily at the appre-
hensions of Hodge, they resented this insult on their house, as they
called it ; and getting all up together in a group, they slily crowded
behind the door, with the latch in one of their hands, ready to issue,
in an instant, and detect the delinquents.
They were not suffered to freeze. Knock, knock, knock, knock,
knock. Open flies the door, and out rush the servants. Nothing
appeared. They all stood silent, and astonished beyond measure.
Some, however, with outward bravade, but inward tremblings,
went searching along the walls and behind the posts for some
lurcher. Again they gathered to the landing-place, and stood
whisperingly debating what this might be ; when, to the inex-
pressible terror and discomfiture of all present, the spontaneous
knocker assumed sudden life and motion, and gave such a peal and
alarm to their eyes and ears, as put every sense and resolution to
the rout ; and in they rushed again, one on the back of the other,
and clapped to the door, as in the face of an host of pursuing
demons.
Mr. Vindex and his lady, for some time past, had been sitting
opposite, and nodding over a fire in the back-parlour, where they
returned each other's salute with the greatest good manners and
punctuality imaginable. He now started on hearing the rustling
in the hall, and angrily called to know what was the matter.
Vindex, from the prejudice of education during his infancy, had
conceived the utmost spite to all spectres and hobgoblins, insomuch
that he wished to deprive them of their very existence, and la-
boured to persuade himself, as well as others, of their nonentity ;
but faith proved too strong within him, for all his verbal parade
of avowed infidelity.
While the servants, with pale faces and short breath, made their
relation, the magisterial philosopher did so sneer, and contempt-
uously toss this way and the other, and throw himself back in such
affected fits of laughter, as nothing could be like it, till, bouncing
at the sound of another peal, he mustered the whole family,
boarders and all, to above seventeen in number, together with
Madam Vindex, who would not be left sole ; and now they ap-
peared such an army as was sufficient to face any single devil at
least; and forth they issued and filled the landing-place, leaving
the door on the jar.
Here Mr. Vindex turned, and, with his face toward the knocker,
thus addressed the assembly :
My honest but simple friends, quoth he, can any thing persuade
you that a spirit or ghost, as ye call it a breath or being of air
a something or nothing that is neither tangible nor visible, can lay
hold of that which is ? Or are ye such idiots as to imagine that
62 TEE FOOL OF QVALITY.
yon knocker (for he did not yet venture to touch it), a substance
of solid and molten brass, without members or organs, or any in-
ternal system or apparatus for the purpose, can yet be endued with
will, design, or any kind of intelligence, when the least locomotive
faculty, in the meanest reptile, must of necessity be provided with
an infinitely varied mechanism of nerves, tubes, reservoirs, levers,
and pulleys for the nonce; I should discredit my own senses on
any appearance contrary to such palpable demonstration. In all
lights Soft break we off look where it comes again ! For, in
this instant of affirmation, so peremptory and conclusive, the
knocker, as in contempt and bitter despite to philosophy, so
loudly refuted every syllable of the premises, as left neither time
nor inclination to Vindex for a reply; but, rushing desperately
forward, he burst in at the portal with such as had presence of
mind to take advantage of the opening; and, turning again, and
shutting the door violently in the face of half his family, he ran
and threw himself into his chair in an agony of spirits.
The servants and boarders, whom Vindex had shut out, not
abiding to stay in presence of the object of their terrors, tumbled
in a heap down the stairs, and, gathering themselves up again, ran
diversely to communicate to all their neighbours and acquaintance
the tidings of the enchanted knocker. Their contagious looks and
words gave the panic throughout; but curiosity prevailing above
apprehension, the town began to gather, though first in thin parties,
and at a cautious distance, till the crowd, increasing, took heart
and resolution from number, and venturing up a step or two of
the stairs, and being still pressed and urged forward by new-comers
from behind, they at length filled the whole flight and landing-place,
and one of them growing bold enough to lift his hand toward the
knocker, the knocker generously convinced him that no assistance
was wanting. Eap, rap, rap, rap. Kap, rap, rap, rap. Eap, rap,
rap, rap. Back recoil the foremost ranks, casting off and tumbling
over the ranks behind. No one stayed to give help or hand to
friend or brother ; but, rising or scrambling off on all-fours, each
made the best of his way to the first asylum, and in less than ten
seconds there was not a mouse stirring throughout the street.
If I had the ill-nature of such authors as love to puzzle, I also
might leave the foregoing enigma to be solved, or rather made
more implicit, in such ways as philosophy might have to account
for it ; but, in compassion to the pains of a labouring imagination,
I choose to deliver my reader with all possible ease and despatch.
The fact is, that these astonishing and tremendous phenomena,
that discomfited a little city, alarmed the country round, and re-
suscitated the stories and legends of the old women of all the
parishes from Barnet to London, were the whole and sole con-
trivance of our hero's petulant foundling, during a nightly lucu-
bration.
.Ned had accordingly imparted his plan of operations to Harry,
and Harry had engaged Mrs. Hannah in the plot.
Now Mrs. Hannah had a house hi a narrow part of the street,
just opposite to that of Mr. Vindex, where her niece and old servant
resided. This house was narrow, but of the height of four stories .;
THE FOOL OF QUALITY. 63
and on the said memorable night, Ned dropped the end of a
bottom of small twine from the garret window, which Hannah took
across the way, and fastened with a double knot to the knocker
of Vindex's door. And now it is twenty to one that, if Vindex's
family and the rest of the neighbourhood had been even thus far
let into the secret, they would not have been altogether so much
alarmed at the consequences.
I have read of generals who could gain, but not maintain con-
quests ; and of women who could keep all secrets but their own.
Thus it happened to Ned. His vanity was at least on a level with
his ingenuity; he was so elated with the success of his recent
stratagem, that he boasted of it to some, and half-whispered it to
others, till it came to the ears of the much- exasperated Vindex.
Vindex., in the first heat and very boil of his passions, snatches up
a huge rod, just cut from that tree whose bare name strikes terror
through all our seminaries of learning, and taking with him one
of his boarders, he marches directly down to the house of Mr.
Fenton, and thus formidably armed he enters the fatal schoolroom.
Ned, by great good fortune for himself, was then absent; but
our hero happening to be there, Vindex instantly shut the door,
and called him to task.
Master Harry, says he, did you know any thing of the strange
knocking at my door last Tuesday night ? To this question, Harry,
who was too valiant to be tempted to tell a lie through fear, with-
out hesitation answered in the affirmative. You did, sirrah ! replied
the pedagogue ; and you have the impudence also to confess it to
my face ? Here, Jacky, down with his trousers, and horse him for
me directly.
Jack was a lusty lubberly boy, about ten years of age, and
stooping to unbutton Harry, according to order, our hero gave him
such a sudden fist in the mouth, as dashed in two of his teeth that
then happened to be moulting, and set him a crying and bleeding
in a piteous manner. Vindex then rose into tenfold fuiy, and took
our hero in hand himself ; and notwithstanding that he cuffed, and
kicked, and fought it most manfully, Vindex at length unbuttoned
his trousers, and set him in due form on the back of his boarder.
The pedagogue, at first, gave him the three accustomed strokes v
as hard as he could draw. So much, my friend, says he, is for your
own share of the burden ; and now tell me who were your con-
federates and abettors in this fine plot. That I will never tell you,
deliberately and resolutely answered our hero. What, shall I be
bullied and out-braved, replied the frantic savage, by such a one
as you? You little stubborn villain, I will flay you alive, I will
carbonado you on the spot. So saying, he laid at him as though
he had been a sheaf of wheat ; while Harry, indignantly, endured
the torture, and holding in his breath that he might not give
Vindex the satisfaction of a groan, he determined to perish rather
than to betray.
In the mean time, Ned had peeped in at the keyhole, and spying
the situation and plight of his loved patron, he ran to Mrs. Hannah
and imparted the horrid tidings. Hannah rose with all the wrath
of Tisiphone in her countenance, and flying to the schoolroom, she
64 THE FOOL OF QUALITY.
rushed violently against the door, burst it open in a twinkling-, and
springing forward, fastened every nail she had in the face and eyes
of Yindex, and tore away and cuifed at a fearful rate. Jack, at
this period, had let his rider to the ground ; when Harry, catching
ut a sword that hung against a wainscot, whipped it down, and
drawing it from the sheath as quick as lightning, he sprung at
Vindex, in order to run him through the body; but, happily, not
having had the patience to put up his breeches, they trammelled
him in his advance, and he fell prostrate with the sword in his
hand, which reached the leg of the pedagogue, and gave him a
slight wound just as he was endeavouring to make his way through
the door. Jack had already made his escape, and the mauled pre-
ceptor scampered after, with his ears much better warmed, and his
temper better cooled, than when he entered.
Harry bore his misfortune with a sort of sullen though shame-
faced philosophy. But every other member of this honourable
family almost adored him for the bloody proof he had given of
his virtue; and vowed unpitying vengeance on the ungenerous
Yindex.
During the above transactions, the strangers whom Mr. Fenton
had received into his house had been tended with great humanity,
and were now on the recovery.
Mr. James, on conversing with the head of this little family, ob-
served that he was an exceeding sensible person, and had provided
him with a decent, though cast suit of his master's ; and had also,
with the assistance of Mrs. Hannah, put his wife and little boy into
clean and seemly apparel.
As James's invention was on the rack to get adequate satisfaction
on the base-spirited Vindex, he went to consult his new friend, who
dropped a tear of generosity and admiration on hearing the story
of Harry's heroism and nobility of soul.
By his advice, Mr. James despatched a messenger to a druggist
at London, and to several other shops for sundry apparatus ; and
having all things in readiness, and Harry being now able to bear
a part in the play, James sent a strange porter to Vindex, with
compliments from his master, as though he were just come home,
and requested to speak with him.
Vindex accordingly comes and knocks. The door opens, he
enters, and it instantly shuts upon him. He starts back with
horror, as at the sight of Medusa. He perceives the hall all in
black, without a single ray save what proceeded from a sickly lamp,
that made the gloom visible. He is suddenly seized upon by two
robust devils covered over with painted flames. They drag him to
the schoolroom but O, terror of terrors ! he knows the place of
his pristine authority no more. He beholds a hell more fearful
than his fancy had yet framed. The ceiling seemed to be vaulted
with serpents, hirpies, arid hydras, that dropped livid fire. And
here, the Tisiphone, Megsera, and Alecto of the heathens appeared
to contend for frightfulness with Milton's Death and Sin. Foui
fiends and two little imps at once laid their fangs upon him, and
would have dragged him to the ground ; but the pedagogue was a
sturdy athletic fellow, and cuffed, and scratched, and roared it out
THE FOOL OF QUALITY. 65
most manfully. The devil, however, proving too strong for the
sinner, he was cast prostrate to the earth ; and being left, in re-
trospection, as bare as Father Time, some sat upon his shoulders to
keep him down, while others on each side, alternately keeping time
like the threshers of barley, gave our flogger such a scoring as im-
printed on his memory, to his last state of magistracy, a fellow-
feeling for the sufferings of petty delinquents.
Being all out-breathed in turns, they remitted from their toil,
and now appeared to be a set of the merriest imps that ever
associated. They fastened the clothes of the disconsolate Vindex
about his neck with his own garters ; and, having manacled his
hands before him, they turned him loose to the street. While he,
with a wonderful presence of mind in the midst of his terrors,
raised his hands the best way he could, to cover his face, and
hurried homeward.
Within a few days after this adventure, Mr. Fenton returned.
At the first sight of one another, he and his Harry grew together
for near half an hour. He then addressed every member of his
family one by one ; and, with a familiar goodness, inquired after their
several healths and concerns. He also asked after his late guests,
and desired to see them ; but on Mr. James's intimation, that he
had somewhat of consequence to impart to him, they retired to
the next room.
Here James made him a minute recital of the preceding ad-
ventures ; and set forth, in due contrast, the baseness and barbarity
of Vindex on the one part, and the unassailable worthiness of his
Harry on the other ; while the praise of this chosen of the old
gentleman's soul sunk, like the balm of Gilead, upon his wounded
mind, and almost eradicated every memorial of former grief, and
planted a new spring of hope and joy in their room.
The table being spread for dinner, Mr. Fenton sent to desire the
stranger and his little family should join company. They came,
according to order ; but entered, evidently overcome by a weight of
shame and gratitude too grievous to be borne.
Mr. Fenton saw their oppression, and felt the whole burden upon
his own shoulders. He accordingly was interested and solicitous
in its removal, which he effected with all that address of which his
humanity had made him a finished master.
Through the enfoldings of the stranger's modesty, Mr. Fenton
discerned many things preceding the vulgar rank of men. Mr.
Clement, said he, I am astonished beyond measure that a person
of letters, as you are, and who has so much of the gentleman in his
person and manner, should yet be reduced to such an extremity
in a Christian country, and among a people distinguished for their
humanity. There must be something very singular and extra-
ordinary in your case ; and this night, if you are at leisure, and
that the recital is not disagreeable to you, you would oblige me
by your story.
Sir, answered Mr. Clement, since my life is yours, you have
surely a right to an account of your property. Whenever you
think proper, I will cheerfully obey you.
Mr. Fenton now rose and stepped into town, and calling upon a
66 THE FOOL OF QUALITY.
neighbour, whom he took to the tavern, he sent for Mr. Vindex,
who came upon the summons.
Mr. Vindex, says he, pray take your seat. I am sorry, Mr.
Vindex, for the treatment you have got in my house, and still
sorrier that you got it so very deservedly.
I have long thought, Mr. Vindex, that the method of school-
masters, in the instruction of our children, is altogether the
reverse of what it ought to be. They generally lay hold on the
human constitution, as a pilot lays hold on the rudder of a ship,
by the tail, by the single motive of fear alone.
Now, as fear has no concern with any thing but itself, it is
the most confined, most malignant, and the basest, though the
strongest, of all passions.
The party who is possessed with it, will listen to nothing but
the dictates of his own terror, nor scruple any thing that may
cover him from the evil apprehended. He will prevaricate and
lie; if that lie is questioned, he will vouch it by perjury; and,
if he happens to do an injury, he will be tempted to commit murder
to prevent the effects of resentment.
Fear never was a friend to the love of God or man, to duty or
conscience, truth, probity, or honour. It therefore can never make
a good subject, a good citizen, or a good soldier, and, least of all,
a good Christian ; except the devils, who believe and tremble, are
to be accounted good Christians.
How very different is the lesson which our master CHRIST
teacheth, who commandeth us not to fear what man can do unto
us ; to smile at sickness and calamity ; to rise superior to pain and
death ; and to regard nothing, but as it leads to the goal of that
immortality which his gospel has brought to light !
There is, Mr. Vindex, but one occasion wherein fear may be
useful in schools or commonwealths ; and that is, when it is placed
as a guard against evil, and appears, with its insignia of rods, ropes,
and axes, to deter all who behold from approaching thereto.
But this. Mr. Vindex, is far from being the sole occasion on
which schoolmasters apply the motive of fear and castigation.
They associate the ideas of pain to those lessons and virtues which
the pleasure of encouragement ought alone to inculcate : they yet
more frequently apply the lash for the indulgence of their own
weaknesses, and for tne gratification of the virulence of their own
naughty passions ; and I have seen a giant of a pedagogue, raving,
raging, and foaming, over a group of shrinking infants, like a kite
over a crouching parcel of young turkeys.
There are, I admit, some parents and preceptors, who annex
other motives to that of the rod; they promise money, gaudy
clothes, and sweetmeats, to children ; and, in their manner of ex-
patiating on the use and value of such articles, they often excite, in
their little minds, the appetites of avarice, of vanity, and sensuality ;
they also sometimes add the motive of what they call emulation,
but which, in fact, is rank envy, by telling one boy how much
happier, or richer, or finer, another is than himself.
Now, though envy and emulation are often confounded in terms,
there are not two things more different, both in respect to their
THE FOOL OF QUALITY. 67
object and in respect to their operation: the object of envy is
the person, and not the excellence, of any one; but the object
of emulation is excellence alone, as when CHKIST, exciting us to
be emulous of the excellence of God himself, bids us be perfect,
as our Father which is in heaven is perfect: the operation of
envy is to pull others down ; but the act of emulation is to exalt
ourselves to some eminence or height proposed : the eyes of envy
are sore and sickly, and hate to look at the light ; but emulation
has the eye of an eagle, and soars, while it gazes in the face
of the sun.
Were tutors half as solicitous, throughout their academies, to
make men of worth as to make men of letters, there are a
hundred pretty artifices, very obvious to be contrived and practised
for the purpose. They might institute caps of shame and wreaths
of honour in their schools : they might have little medals, ex-
pressive of particular virtues, to be fixed on the breast of the
achiever till forfeited by default : and on the report of any boy's
having performed a signal action of good-nature, friendship, grati-
tude, generosity, or honour., a place of eminence might be appointed
for him to sit on, while all the rest of the school should bow
in deference as they passed. Such arts as these, I say, with that
distinguishing affection and approbation which all persons ought
to show to children of merit, would soon make a new nation of
infants, and consequently of men.
When you, Mr. Vindex, iniquitously took upon you to chastise
my most noble and most incomparable boy, you first whipped him
for his gallant and generous avowal of the truth ; and next, you
barbarously flayed him because he refused to betray those who had
confided in his integrity.
When I behold so many scoundrels walking openly throughout
the land who are styled your honour, and your honour, and who
impudently usurp the most exalted of all characters the character
of a gentleman ; I no longer wonder, when I reflect that they have
been principled, or rather unprincipled, by such tutors as Mr.
Vindex.
The merry devils, Mr. Vindex, who took you in hand, were not
of a species so alienated from humanity as you might imagine;
they have, therefore, appointed me their vehicle of some smart-
money in recompense, but desire no further advantage from your
company or instructions.
So saying, Mr. Fenton put a purse of five-and-twenty guineas
into the hands of the preceptor, and withdrew without speaking
another word.
Friend. Upon my credit, this Mr. Fenton I long to know some-
thing more of him he is a sensible kind of a man, and has given
us some very valuable hints upon education. But may I be so
free with you as to drop some general remarks upon the whole of
what I have read?
Author. Free, sir ? by all means ; as free as you please, to be
sure. Believe me, you cannot do me a greater favour.
Friend. Why, there's the plague on't, now ; you begin to
p 2
68 THE FOOL OF QUALITY.
kindle already. Ah ! were you authors to know the thousandth
part of the liberties that are taken behind your backs, you would
learn to bear with more humility a gentle admonition, though
uttered to your faces. Few, indeed, have the generosity, or even
humanity, to intimate what they themselves think, or what the
world speaks of you. We are seldom over forward to say any
thing that might give displeasure to others, because we like that
others should be pleased with ourselves ; but in your absence
we pay ourselves largely for our taciturnity in your presence,
and I have often been in company where the intimates and
confidants of you authors have depreciated and ridiculed the
very same passages which they applauded with cries and claps
in your closets. The world, my friend, has substituted good
manners in the place of good nature ; whoever conforms to the
former is dispensed with from any observance of the latter.
Shall I add (for the misfortune of you authors), that there is a
set of men who at once dispense with common manners and
common humanity ? They go under the name of critics ; and
must be men of wealth, that the deference paid to fortune may
give a sort of stamp and currency to the dross of their erudition.
In the strictest sense, indeed, they may be called men of letters,
their study as well as capacity being nearly confined to a just or
orthographical disposition of the alphabet. Their business is to
reconnoitre the out-works of genius, as they have no key to the
gates of nature or sentiment. They snuff faults from afar, as
crows scent carrion, and delight to pick, and to prey, and to dwell
upon them. They enter like wasps upon the gardens of litera-
ture, not to relish any fragrance, or select any sweets, but to
pamper their malevolence with every thing that savours of rank-
ness or oifence. Happily for them, their sagacity does not tend
to the discovery of merit ; in such a case, a work of genius would
give them the spleen for a month, or possibly depress their spirits
beyond recovery.
To these high and dreaded lords-justiciaries, the critics, authors
deem it incumbent to submit the products of their lucubrations ;
not in the prospect of any advantage from their advice or animad-
versions; neither in the hopes of acquiring their friendship or
patronage ; but merely to soothe and deprecate the effects of their
malignity. Accordingly, I have been present when some of these
dictators have been presented with a manuscript as with an humble
petition ; they have thereupon assumed the chair, as a judge assumes
the bench when a criminal is called before him, not in order to
trial or hearing, but to sentence and condemnation. To what
scenes of mortification have I been witness on such occasions ! to
what a state of abatement, of abasement, of annihilation, have these
entertainers of the public been depressed ! " I am sorry, sir, to
tell you that this will not do a few attempts here and there, but
that will not compensate. Here again, how injudicious, absurd,
unpardonable! Good sir, you should have considered that when
a man sits down to write for the public, the least compliment they
expect from him is, that he should think Here, my friend, I have
seen enough ; I cannot affront my judgment so much, as either to
THE FOOL OF QUALITY. 69
recommend or patronize your performance ; all I can do for you
is to be silent on the subject, and permit fools to approve who have
not sense to discern." Thus do these critics-paramount, with
the delicacy and compassion of the torturers of the Inquisition,
search out all the seats of sensibility and self-complacence, in order
to sting with the more quick and killing poignancy.
Now, my dear friend, as you have not applied for the favour of
these established arbitrators of genius and literature, you are not
to expect the least mercy from them ; and I am also free to tell
you, that I know of no writer who lies more open to their attacks.
You are excessively incorrect. Your works, on the one hand, have
not the least appearance of the Limse, labor ; nor, on the other,
have they that ease which ought to attend the haste with which
they seem to be written. Again, you are extremely unequal and
disproportioned ; one moment you soar where no eye can see, and
straight descend with rapidity, to creep in the vulgar phrase of
chambermaids and children. Then you are so desultory that we
know not where to have you; you no sooner interest us in one
subject, than you drag us, however reluctant, to another. In short,
I doubt whether you laid any kind of plan before you set about
the building ; but we shall see how your fortuitous concourse of
atoms will turn out.
Author. Do I want nature ?
Friend. No.
Author. Do I want spirit ?
Friend. Kather too much of fire at times.
Author. Do I want sentiment ?
Friend. Not altogether.
Author. Then, sir, I shall be read and read again, in despite of
my own defects, and of all that you and your critics can say or do
against me. The truth is, that the critics are very far from being
bugbears to me; they have always proved my friends, my best
benefactors. They were the first who writ me into any kind of
reputation ; and I am more beholden to their invectives than I am
to my own genius, for any little name I may have got in the world :
all I have to fear is, that they are already tired of railing, and may
not deem me worth their further notice. But pray, my good sir,
if you desire that I should profit by your admonitions, ought you
not to give me instances of the faults with which you reproach me ?
Friend. That would be time and labour altogether thrown away,
as I have not the smallest hope of bringing you to confession.
You are a disputant, a casuist, by your education ; you are equally
studied and practised in turning any thing into nothing, or bringing
all things thereout. But do not flatter yourself that I have yet
given you the detail of half your faults ; you are often paradoxical,
and extremely peremptory and desperate in your assertions. In
this very last page you affirm that the character of a gentleman is
the most reverable, the highest of all characters.
Author. I did, sir ; I do affirm it, and will make it good.
Friend. I knew it, sir, I knew it ; but do not choose at present
to enter into the discussion. At the next pause I shall willingly
hear you on this question.
70 THE FOOL OF QUALITY.
CHAPTER VII.
ON his return he ordered a fire and a bottle of wine into his
study, and sent for Mr. Clement. Mr. Clement, says he, sit down.
I assure you, Mr. Clement, I am inclined to think very well of you.
But pray let me have the narrative of your life and manners with-
out disguise. An ingenuous confession and sense of past errors
has something in it, to me full as amiable, or more, than if a man
had never strayed.
Sir, says Mr. Clement, I have indeed been faulty, very faulty in
my intentions; though God has hitherto preserved me from any
very capital act, and has, by your hand, wonderfully brought me
to this day.
HISTOBY OF THE MAN OP LETTEES.
Bartholomew Clement, sir, a retailer of hardware on the Strand,
is my father. He was low-bred, and, as I believe, of narrow ca-
pacity ; but proceeding in what they call the dog-trot of life, and
having a single eye to the making of money, he became vastly
rich, and has now a large income from houses and ground-rents
in the city of Westminster, the fruits and acquisition of his own
application.
I remember nothing of my mother except her fondness for me ;
nor of her character, except the tears that I have seen my father
shed when occasional circumstances have brought her fresh to his
memory. She died when I was in my seventh year. I was their
only surviving child ; and my father transferred all his tenderness
for her to me.
The love of my father was not the mere partiality or prejudice
of a parent ; it was not an affection ; he had a passion for me that
could be equalled by nothing but his vanity in my behalf. He
resolved, he said, that there should be one gentleman in the family;
and with this view he resisted his desire of having me always in
his sight, and sent me to Westminster school, and from thence to
Cambridge, where I remained till I was twenty years of age, with-
out any thing happening that was uncommon, or deserving of your
attention.
In the mean time my father was as prodigal of his purse towards
me as he was of his caresses. He had me with him every vacation.
He visited me frequently during term, and seemed to lose the
better half of his existence when we parted.
He had infused into me a strong tincture of his own vanity and
views. I lost even a portion of that tenderness and respect which
I had felt in his regard. He was a trader, a mechanic ; I sighed
for his reptile state ; and I looked down upon him as Icarus did
on that very father from whom he had derived wings for so exalted
a flight.
My application, accordingly, was equal to my ambition. I was
not merely a master, I was a critic in the classical languages. I
relished, and commented on the beauties of the Greek and Latin
authors ; was a thorough connoisseur hi the customs and manners
THE FOOL OF QUALITY. 71
of the ancients ; and could detect the slightest transgression of a
sculptor or designer in their folding of the Roman toga. I also
had the honour of being intimate with all the great of antiquity ;
I frequently sat in synod, with the whole posse of the heathen gods,
on Olympus ; and I kept them, as I imagined, in a kind of de-
pendence, by my perfect knowledge of all their secret lapses and
mistreadings. I had traced the system of nature, from Aristotle
and Pythagoras down to Epicurus and Lucretius, and from them
down to Des Cartes, Gassendi, and Hobbes ; and I was so thorough-
paced an adept in all the subtleties of logic, that I could confute
and change sides without losing an inch of ground that I had
gained upon my adversary.
I now imagined that I was arrived at the very pinnacle of human
excellence, and that fortune and honour were within my grasp on
either hand. I looked on the chancellorship, or primacy, as things
that must come in course, and I was contriving some station more
adequate to the height of my merits and ambition, when I received
this letter :
" SON HAMMEL, Have lately inquired into thy life and character:
am sorry to find them too bad to give hope of amendment. Have
lost my money and my child. Thou hast cut thyself from my love ;
I have cut thee from my fortune. To comfort myself, have taken
a neighbour's widow to wife. Come not near me ; I will not see
thee. Would pray for thee, if I did not think it in vain.
"BARTHOLOMEW CLEMENT."
For some time after the receipt of this cruel letter, I remained in
a state of stupidity. I could not believe the testimony of my senses.
I gave a kind of discredit to all things. But, awaking from this
lethargy into inexpressible anguish, my soul was rent by different
and contending passions.
Whatever contempt I might have for the station of my father,
I still loved his person better than riches and honours. But he
loved me no more he was gone he was lost ; he was already
dead and buried, at least to me. I cast myself on the ground,
I groaned, I wept aloud, I bewailed him, as though he had lain
a lifeless corpse before me. At length, having vented the first
ravings of my passion, I rose and wrote to my father an answer,
of which this in my pocket-book is the copy :
"SiB, If you had not wished to find those faults you sent to
seek after, in a life that defies malice, and is wholly irreproachable,
you would not have given credit to scoundrels, who cannot judge
of the conduct of a gentleman; nor have condemned your only
child without hearing or defence.
" In cutting me from your fortune, you only cut me from what
I despise; but in cutting me from your love you have unjustly
robbed me of what no fortune can repair. I see that you are
irretrievably taken away from me ; I shall never more behold my
indulgent and fond father; and I shall not cease to lament his
loss with tears of filial affection. But for this new father, whose
heart could dictate so unnatural and inhuman a letter, I equally
72 THE FOOL OF QUALITY.
disclaim all commerce and concern with him. And, could it
be possible that a person of my talents and abilities should be
reduced to indigence or distress, you, sir, are the very last man
upon earth to whom I would apply, or from whom I would deign
to accept relief.
" But if, on the other hand, it should please God hereafter to
visit your hard-heartedness with affliction and poverty, and that
I, like the son of the blacksmith in the days of our eighth Harry,
should stand next the throne in dignity and honours, you will then
find me desirous of making you all sorts of submissions you will
then find the dutifullest, the fondest, and tenderest of children, in,
sir, your little-known and much-injured,
" HAMMBL CLEMENT."
Having thus vented the gusts and feelings of my heart, I began
seriously to think of the course I ought to take ; and considered
London as the sphere in which a luminary would appear with the
greatest lustre.
I discharged my servant, sold my two geldings, disposed of my
room, my furniture, and most of my books, and having mustered
somewhat upward of three hundred and fifty pounds, I lodged
the three hundred pounds with a Cambridge dealer, from whom
I took bills on his correspondent in London, and set out on my
Tdition in the first stage,
took cheap lodgings near Charing Cross; I was altogether
unknowing and unknown in that great city ; and, reflecting that
a hidden treasure cannot be duly estimated, I daily frequented
Markham's coffee-house, amidst a promiscuous resort of swordsmen,
literati, beaus, and politicians.
Here, happening to distinguish myself on a few occasions where
some articles of ancient history, or 'tenet of Thales, or law of Ly-
curgus, chanced to be in question, I began to be regarded with
better advantage.
An elderly gentleman, one day, who sat attentive in a corner,
got up and whispered that he would be glad of my company to
take share of a pint in the next room. I gratefully obeyed the
summons, and when we had drank a glass a-piece Mr. Clement,
says he, you appear to have but few acquaintance, and may possibly
want a friend. My fortune is small, but I have some influence
in this town ; and, as I have taken an inclination to you, I should
be glad to serve you. If the question is not too free, pray, what
is your present dependence and prospect for life ?
Having, with a grateful warmth, acknowledged his goodness to
me, I ingenuously confessed that my circumstances were very
slender, and that I should be glad of any place wherein I could
be useful for myself and my employer. AJnd pray, says my friend,
what place would best suit you ? I hope, sir, answered I, my educa-
tion has been such, that laying aside the manual crafts, there is
not any thing for which I am not qualified. I am greatly pleased
to hear it, replied Mr. Goodville, and hope soon to bring you
news that will not be disagreeable.
Within a few days Mr. Goodville again entered the coffee-house
THE FOOL OF QUALITY. 73
with a happy aspect. He beckoned me aside. Clement, says he,
I have the pleasure to tell you that I have brought you the choice
of two very advantageous places. Mr. Giles, the banker, wants a
clerk who can write a fine hand, and has made some proficiency
in arithmetic. And my good friend Mr. Tradewell, an eminent
merchant, would give large encouragement to a youth who under-
stands the Italian method of book-keeping, as his business is very
extensive, and requires the shortest and clearest manner of entry
and reference.
My friend here paused, and I blushed and hung down my head,
and was wholly confounded. At length I answered hesitatingly
Perhaps, sir, you have happened on the only two articles in the
universe (mechanics, as I said, apart) of which I have no knowledge.
Well, well, my boy, says he, don't be discouraged. I will try what
further may be done in your behalf.
Within about a fortnight after, Mr. Goodville sent me a note,
to attend him at his lodgings in Eed Lion Square. I went, flushed
with reviving hope. My child, said he, as I entered, I have now
brought you the offer of three different places, and some one of
them, as I trust, must surely fit you.
Our East India Company propose to make a settlement on the
coast of Coromandel, and are inquisitive after some youths who
have made a progress in geometry, and are more especially studied
in the science of fortification. There is also the colonel of a regi-
ment, an old intimate of mine, who is going on foreign service,
and he, in truth, applied to me to. recommend him a person who
was skilled in the mechanic powers, and, more particularly, who
had applied himself to gunnery and engineering. There is, lastly,
the second son of a nobleman to whom I have the honour to be
known ; he is captain of a man of war, and would give any con-
sideration to a young man of sense and letters, who is a proficient
in navigation and in the use of the chart and compass, and who,
at the same time, might serve as a friend and companion.
Sir, said I, quite astonished, I have been a student, as Goliath
was a man of war, from my childhood. If all my tutors did not
flatter me, my genius was extensive ; and my progress in learning
may prove that my application has been indefatigable. I know
all things from the beginning of time that the ancient or modern
world, as I was told, accounted matters of valuable erudition or
recognizance, and yet I have not so much as heard of the use or
estimation of any of these sciences, required, as you say, by persons
in high trust and commission.
Mr. Goodville hereupon looked concerned, and shook his head.
My dear Clement, says he, I do not doubt your talents or learning;
but I now begin to doubt whether they have been directed or
applied to any useful purpose. My cousin Goodville informs me
that the bishop of St. Asaph is in distress for a young gentleman,
a man of morals and a linguist, who has some knowledge in the
canon and civil law, as his vicar-general is lately dead. He tells
me further that a gentleman, a friend of his, who is in great
circumstances, and who is now about purchasing the place of sur-
veyor-general, wants a youth who has got some little smattering
74 TEE FOOL OF QUALITY.
in architecture, and has an elegant hand at the drawing of plans
and sections. I am also known to one of the commissioners of
excise, and, if you are barely initiated in gauging or surveying,
I think I could get you into some way of bread.
Alas, sir, I replied, in a desponding tone, I am equally a stranger
to all these matters !
Perhaps, said Mr. Goodville, I could get you into holy orders if
you are that way inclined. Are you well read in theology?
Yes, yes, sir, I briskly answered; I am perfectly acquainted
with the gods and manners of worship through all nations since
the deluge.
But are you, replied my friend, equally versed in the Christian
dispensation? Have you studied our learned commentators on the
Creeds ? Are you read in Polemic divinity ? and are you a master
of the sense and emblematical reference that the Old Testament
bears to the New ?
Sir, said I, I have often dipped, with pleasure, into the Bible, as
there are many passages in it extremely affecting, and others full
of fine imagery and the true sublime.
My poor dear child (mournfully answered Mr. Goodville), by all
I can find you know no one thing of use to yourself, or any other
person living, either with respect to this world or the world to
come. Could you make a pin, or a waistcoat button, or form a
pill-box, or weave a cabbage net, or shape a cobbler's last, or hew
a block for a barber, or do any of those things by which millions
daily maintain themselves in supplying the wants and occasions,
or fashions and vanities of others, you might not be under the
necessity of perishing.
The ways of life for which your studies have best prepared you
are physic and the law. But then they require great expense, and
an intense application of many years to come, before you can
propose to enter on a livelihood by either of those professions.
And, after all, your success would be very precarious, if you were
not supported by many friends and a strong interest, at least on
your setting out.
I have already told you, Clement, that I am not rich, and if I
were, it is not he who gives you money, but he who puts you into
a way of getting it, that does you a friendship.
I am advised to go to Montpelier for the establishment of my
health, after a tedious fit of sickness that I had at Bath. I shall
set out in about a month. But before I go, my child, I earnestly
wish and advise you to fix on some craft or trade or manner of em-
ploying your time, that will enable you to earn a certain subsistence,
and, at the same time, make you a worthy member of the commu-
nity. For, believe me, my boy, that it is not speculative science,
no, nor all the money and jewels upon earth, that make any part
of the real wealth of this world. It is industry alone, employed on
articles that are useful and beneficial to society, that constitutes
the true riches of all mankind.
As soon as you have made your election, let me see you again ;
and, at all events, let me see you before I set out.
Hereupon I bowed and retired, the most mortified and dejected
THE FOOL OF QUALITY.
75
of all beings. I was so low and dispirited that I could scarce get
to my lodgings. I threw myself on the bed. The gilding of the
vapours of grandeur and ambition, that, like the sky of a summer's
evening, had delighted my prospects, now wholly disappeared, and
a night of succeeding darkness fell heavy on my soul.
One third of my principal fund was almost sunk, and my imagina-
tion considered the remainder as already vanished, without the
possibility of supply or resource. I now secretly cursed the vanity
of my father : He must breed me a gentleman, thought I, as though
I had been born to no manner of end. Had I been the son of a
cobbler, of a porter, an ostler, of the lowest wretch who wins his
bread by the sweat of his brow, I should not yet have been reduced
to the worst species of beggary that of begging with sound limbs
and a reasonable soul, the least pitied, though most pitiable, object
of the creation ; for, surely, that is the case of a poor scholar and
a poor gentleman !
For some following days I went about prying and inquiring
into the various and numberless occupations that maintained so
many thousands of active hands and busy faces throughout that
wonderful city.
One evening, as I returned late and fatigued through Cheapside,
I observed a man very importunate with a woman who walked
before me. Sometimes she would hurry on, and again make a full
stop, and earnestly beseech him to go about his business ; but, in
spite of her entreaties, he still stuck close to her, till, coming to the
end of a blind alley, he suddenly seized her by the arm, and pulled
her in after him.
She shrieked out for help with repeated vociferation ; when,
recollecting all my force, and drawing my sword Villain ! I cried
out, quit the woman instantly, or you are a dead man ! He per-
ceived the glittering of the weapon, and retired a few paces ; but,
taking out a pocket pistol, he discharged it full at me, and ran off
with precipitation.
The ball entered my clothes and flesh, and lodged on the rotula of
my left arm. I felt a short pang ; but, not attending to it, I took
the woman under the arm, and returning with her to the street,
I told her we had no time to lose, and desired to know where she
lived. She answered At the sign of the Fan and Kuffle, in Fleet
Street, where she kept a milliner's shop. We had not far to go ;
we made the best of our speed, and were let in by a servant-maid,
who showed us to a back parlour.
Jenny, said Mrs. Graves (that was her name), bring a glass, and a
bottle of the cordial wine. You look a little pale, sir ; I hope you
are not hurt. Not much, I think, madam, but I feel a small pain in
my left shoulder. Sir, here is my best service to you, with my best
blessings and prayers for you to the last hour of my life. You must
drink it off, sir ; we both stand in need of it ; this was a frightful
affair. Jenny, where's Arabella? Within a few doors, madam, at
the Miss Hodgins'. Come, sir, said Mrs. Graves, T must look at
your shoulder ; then, opening the top of my waistcoat, she instantly
screamed out, God preserve my deliverer ! I fear he is wounded
dangerously. Jenny, fly to Mr. Weldon's; bring him with you
76 THE FOOL OF QUALITY.
immediately; do not come without him. Dearest, worthiest of
men, let me press another glass upon you. It is necessary in such
a waste of blood and spirits. Madam, I replied, the wound cannot
be of consequence ; but I was greatly fatigued at the time I had
the happiness to rescue you from that ruffian.
The surgeon soon came, and, looking at my wound, said some-
thing apart to Mrs. Graves, who thereupon ordered Jenny to get a
fire, and to make and warm the bed in the best chamber.
Sir, said I to Mr. Weldon, do not alarm the gentlewoman. I am
not of a fearful temper, and hope to bear my fortune like a man.
Sir, said he, your wound has been made by a rifled ball, and it may
cost you much pain to extract it. You must not think of stirring
from hence for the present. By the time your bed is ready I will
be back with the dressings.
During the surgeon's absence, Mrs. Graves was all in tears, while
I sat suspended between my natural fears of an approaching disso-
lution, and my hopes of being suddenly and lastingly provided for.
The cruelty of my father, the disappointment and overthrow of all
my elevated expectations, and my utter incapacity of being of the
smallest use to myself or mankind, had given me a kind of loathing
to life. I had not, indeed, attended to my duty as a Christian ; but
I was then innocent of any actual or intentional evil, and, as my
conscience did not condemn me, I looked to mercy with a kind of
humble resignation.
Mr. Weldon came with the dressings, his eldest apprentice, and a
man-servant. I was then conducted to my chamber, and helped to
bed, where I was put to great anguish in the extraction of the ball ;
as the periosteum had been lacerated, and the lead, being flattened,
extended much beyond the wound it had made.
Having passed a very painful and restless night, I remembered
nothing further, till, at the expiration of twenty- one days, I seemed
to awaken out of a long and uneasy dream.
I turned my head and beheld, as I imagined, all arrayed in
shining white, and at my bedside, an inhabitant of some superior
region ; for never till then had I seen, nor even conceived an idea,
of any form so lovely.
Tell me, said T, fair creature, on what world am I thrown ? But
instead of replying, she flew out of my apartment, and soon after
returned, accompanied by Mrs. Graves, whose hands and eyes were
elevated, as in some extraordinary emotion.
Mrs. Graves, said I, how do you do? I hope you are well. I
now begin to conjecture whereabouts I am. But neither did she
answer ; but falling on her knees by my bed, and taking hold of my
hand I thank thee, O my God ! she cried ; and, bursting into tears,
she wept and sobbed like an infant. Ah, Mrs. Graves! said I,
I fear that you have had a very troublesome guest of me. But
then, says she, we remember that trouble no more, now that you
are, once again, born into the world.
During the few succeeding days in which I kept my bed, Mrs.
Graves and her fair niece, Arabella, whom I had taken for a vision,
constantly breakfasted and spent their evening in my apartment.
I gave them a short narrative of my foregoing history ; and
THE FOOL OF QUALITY. 77
understood, on their part, that they were the sister and daughter of
the late Keverend Mr. Graves, of Putney, who had little more to
bequeath than his books and furniture, amounting to about five
hundred pounds, which they held in joint stock, and had, hitherto,
rather increased than diminished.
As I scarce remembered my mother, and had now, as it were,
no farther relation nor friend upon earth, I felt a vacuity in my
soul, somewhat like that of an empty stomach, desirous of seizing
on the first food that should present itself to my cravings. Delight-
ful sensibilities ! sweet hungerings of nature after its kind ! This
good woman and her niece became all the world to me. The one
had conceived for me all the passion of a parent ; the other, that of
the fondest and tenderest of sisters. On the other hand, I had for
Mrs. Graves all the feelings of a child who conceives himself a part
of the existence of her who bore him ; and my eyes and actions
could not forbear to discover to Arabella, that my heart was that
of the most affectionate of brothers, though too delicate to indulge
itself in those familiar endearments which the nearness of kindred
might venture to claim.
When I was up and about the house, I requested Mrs. Graves to
make out her bill for my board, and for my physician, surgeon,
drugs, &c., during my long illness. Hereupon she looked eagerly
and tenderly at me. Mr. Clement, says she, I think you are too
generous designedly to reproach us with what we owe you. But
for what is it, my child, that you desire us to charge you ? Is it
for rescuing me from death, or a shame worse than death probably
from both ? Or is it for delivering this, my darling, from the bitter
grief and distress that my loss must have brought upon her ? Or
do you rather desire to pay us for the fearful pains and sickness
which you suffered on our account, and for having nearly forfeited
your life in our defence ? No, Mr. Clement, you must not think of
paying us the very debts that we owe you; more, indeed, Mr.
Clement, than all our little fortune, than the product of the in-
dustry of our lives, can ever repay.
Here I was silenced for the present, but in no degree convinced ;
and I felt, in a sort, the disgust of an injured person, uneasy and
studious, till some revenge might be had.
In two days after, while Mrs. Graves was at market, and Ara-
bella gone with a Brussels head and ruffles to a young lady of dis-
tinction, I stepped into the shop where Jenny waited the commands
of those that should call. I had scarce entered when a sheriff's
officer appeared at the door, and, bolting in, laid an execution on the
shop for eighty-five pounds odd shillings, at the suit of Mr. Hard-
grave, the cambric and lace-merchant.
I was at first surprised and grieved, but pleasure quickly suc-
ceeded to my concern on the occasion. I took out my pocket-book,
immediately discharged the debt with costs, and gave a crown to
Jenny on her solemn assurance that she would not betray a syllable
of what had happened to her mistress or Arabella.
Soon after this good gentlewoman and her niece returned, dinner
was ordered up, and I sat down to table with a heart and coun-
tenance more easy and cheerful than ordinary.
78 THE FOOL OF QUALITY.
Before the cloth was removed, Jenny came and delivered a note
to her mistress. She read it over and over with apparent surprise
and attention, asked if the messenger was waiting, and stepped to
the door. Again she returned, sat down without speaking a word,
and the muscles of her countenance being strongly affected, she
could no longer retain her passion, and her tears burst forth.
What is the matter ? cried Arabella ; my aunt my dear, dear
mother my only friend and parent ? And, breaking also into tears,
she threw herself about her neck.
O, there is no bearing of this! exclaimed Mrs. Graves. This
young man, my Arabella, distresses us beyond expression. He has
this very clay, my love, for the second time, snatched us from
instant ruin. I would tell you if I could speak; but read that
note which she did accordingly.
The note was signed Freestone Hardgrave; and imported how
sorry he was that his late losses by sea had put him under the
necessity of laying an execution on her house without customary
notice. That he was glad, however, she had so large a sum ready
as 90, the receipt of which he acknowledged, and hoped that this
affair would make no difference with respect to their future
dealings.
And why, best and dearest of women, said I to Mrs. Graves
why would you grieve that I should endeavour to relieve myself
from a part of that burden with which your goodness and obliga-
tions have so greatly oppressed me ? O that it were in my power !
I cried ; and my hands pressed each other with an involuntary
ardour. But it never will it never can be possible for me to
prove the passion that my soul has for you, and there I hesitated
to show you, I say, the love that I have for you, Mrs. Graves.
You two make my world, and all that I am concerned for or
desire therein.
Since that is the case, said Mrs. Graves, with a smile and a tear
that glistened together, if you will admit an equal passion from one
so old as I am, it were pity we should ever part. Send, my child,
this very day, and discharge your former lodgings. The time that
we spend together cannot but be happy. All cares are lessened by
the society of those we love ; and our satisfactions will be doubled
by feeling for each other.
I did not at that time know the whole reason of the delight with
which I accepted this generous invitation. I settled at Mrs.
Graves's without any formal agreement, and all my little matters
were directly brought home.
O, how happy were many succeeding days ! How still more happy
when contrasted with the misery that ensued ! "We spent all the
time together that business and attention to the shop would permit,
and we grudged every moment that was spent asunder. I related
to them a thousand entertaining stories, and passages occasionally
recollected from the poets and historians of antiquity ; and a secret
emotion, and inward ardour for pleasing, gave me fluently to inter-
sperse sentimental observations and pertinent digressions, more
delightful to my auditory than all my quoted authorities.
I was now daily gathering health and strength, to which the com-
THE FOOL OF QUALITY. 79
placence of my mind greatly contributed ; when one evening, Mrs.
Graves returned more dejected than ordinary. I inquired into the
cause, with a solicitude and countenance that naturally expressed
the interest I took in her concerns. Why, my dear child, says she,
perhaps I have been both impertinent and indiscreet, but I meant
all for the best. You must know, then, that I have been on a visit
to your father. To my father, madam? Even so. I would to
Heaven that he were worthy to be called father to such a son. But
as I was saying your father, Mr. Clement, is in great circum-
stances ; he keeps his coach, has taken a fine new house, and lives
at a high rate. I sent in my name, with notice that I came to him
on business of consequence. I was thereupon shown to a back
parlour, where he sat in company with Mrs. Clement and a lusty
ill-looking young gentleman ; but your stepmother has a comely
and good-humoured countenance ; she also appears to be far ad-
vanced in her pregnancy. Mrs. Graves, said your father, take a
seat. What are your commands with me, madam ? I came, sir,
to let you know that your son, Mr. Hammel Clement, the best of
human beings, has been at the point of death. Have you nothing
to say to me, madam, but what concerns my son Hammel ? I have
not, I confess, sir but that is more than enough; it is very
interesting and aifecting, and concerns you most nearly. Here
Mr. Clement, for I will never more call him by the sacred name
of father ; here, I say, he started up, and catching at a book, he
pressed it to his lips and cried 1 swear by the virtue of this
and all other holy books, that I will never listen to any person
who would speak a single word in behalf of Hammel Clement ; and
so, mistress, give me leave to show you the way out again. So
saying, he caught my hand and drew me to the door, while I
turned and cried to your stepmother O madam! what sort of
a heart is yours, that refuses its intercession on this occasion ?
But she gave me an eye and sneer, of such a mischievous meaning,
as expressed the whole fiend under the guise of an angel. When
Mr. Clement had taken me to the outward door, I just turned and
said I am sorry, sir, that a man of your grave and sensible
appearance should suffer yourself to be so duped by people whose
interest it is to deceive you; but, swelling into choler, he gave me
a violent push from him, and clapped to the door in my face. So
that, in short, my dear child, I fear I have done you harm, where
I meant you true service.
It matters not, my mother, said I (endeavouring to suppress a
tear of tender resentment), I will soon, I trust, procure some kind
of independence on that barbarian and his fortune ; and while I have
you and your Arabella, I shall want neither father nor friend.
Being now very nearly re-established in my health, I set out
again in search after some employment that might suit me. As
I was strolling on Tower-Hill, 1 observed a shop on my left hand ;
it was that of Mr. Wellcot, a bookseller and printer. I stepped in,
and after some introductory discourse I asked him if he had occa-
sion, in the way of his business, for a friend of mine a gentle-
man in distress, but of parts and learning. Alas, sir ! cried
Wellcot, such creatures as you mention are a drug upon earth;
80 THE FOOL OF QUALITY.
there is a glut of them in all markets. I would give any one a
broad piece per man who should deliver me from three or four of
them who lie heavy on my hands. Not, sir, that they are greedy
or idle in the least ; I can get one of these gentlemen, as you are
pleased to call them, on whose education more money has been
expended than, at the common and legal interest, would maintain
a decent family to the end of the world I can get one of them,
I say, to labour like a hackney horse from morning to night, at
less wages than I could hire a rascally porter or shoe-boy for three
hours. I employ them occasionally in correcting the press, or fold-
ing or stitching the sheets, or running of errands. But then, sir,
they have all of them aspects of such a bilious despondence, that
a man may with less melancholy behold a death's-head ; and
really, sir, I could not stand it, if custom, as I may say, did not
harden me by the perpetual vision of these spectres.
While Wellcot was speaking, I made a secret vow against having
any kind of commerce or concern with booksellers or printers for
at least a century to come ; but, fearing to be suspected as a party
concerned, I affected an air as easy as possible, and, observing some
females who were busy in stitching pamphlets, I asked him if they
contained any thing new or entertaining.
Sir, said Wellcot, this is an elaborate performance of the most
eminent of our patriot writers ; I pay him, at the lowest, five
guineas weekly ; and could any man write with double his spirit
and genius, I could better afford to give that author a hundred,
for good writings are like diamonds, that are valued according to
their carats ; do but double their weight, and they immediately
become of twenty times the estimation.
This pamphlet consisted of a sheet, sewed in blue paper. I
instantly paid my twopence, and sat down to peruse it. I found
that it contained several very free remonstrances against his
majesty and the ministers for joining with France in the war
against Holland in opposition to the civil and religious interests of
England, together with a few collateral digressions in assertion
of Magna Charta, of the freedom of man in general, and of Britons
hi particular. I perceived that it was written with much more
judgment than genius. And what, said I to Wellcot, will you give
to that man who shall, confessedly, excel this your most eminent of
patriot writers upon his own subject, and in his own way? Give,
sir ? cried the bookseller ; many thanks, and a proportionable in-
crease of the profits. Enough, sir, I answered ; you shall soon
hear from me again I wish you a good-morrow.
On my return I called at Mr. Goodville's, but he had sailed for
France about a fortnight before. I then went about to a number
of pamphlet shops, and bought up all the political papers that had
any reference to the matter in hand.
I sat down to my work like a hungry man to his victuals; and
I grudged my heart those short indulgences which it enjoyed in
the society of 'the two objects of its fondest affections.
Having finished my first paper in about a fortnight, I entitled
it the Weekly Monitor, and took it directly to Wellcot's. Here,
sir, said I, is my friend's first venture. But has your friend, de*
THE FOOL OF QUALITY. 81
manded "Wellcot in a discouraging accent, sent the usual indemnity
for the first impression of a young author? That shall not be
wanting, I answered, if you require it, Mr. Wellcot. Why, said
he, I do not take upon me to be a judge in these matters ; and
yet custom has given me a shrewd sort of a guess. Come, sir, I
have a few minutes to throw away, and they are at your service.
He then sat down, and having read about a dozen lines Ay, ay!
said he, they don't always do thus at Newmarket; your friend, I
find, has set out at the top of his speed.
Going on something further, he cried Well supported, by Ju-
piter ! And then, proceeding to the third page This, says he, must
have been stolen from one of the ancients, because there is no
modern who could write like it. Well, sir, you need not give
yourself further trouble for the present ; I will print this first
paper at my own suit. Desire your friend to be careful about the
second. Call on me in a week, and I think I shall be able to tell
you something that will please you.
How diligent is expectation how elevated is hope ! I returned
with the feathers of Mercury at my heels. I set about my second
paper with double genius and application. My ideas were more
expanded my spirits more sublimed. All the persuasives of
Cicero ; all the thunder of Demosthenes ; all that I had read on
the topic of liberty, in popular governments or commonwealths,
occurred to my remembrance.
I finished my second essay within the week. I went with it to
Wellcot, and he presented me at sight with twenty guineas. It
is more, said he. than hitherto comes to your share ; but I love
to encourage, and I trust that in the run I shall not be a loser.
I sell this pamphlet for twopence ; nearly two-fourths thereof go to
printing, paper, &c. ; another fourth I reserve as an equivalent for
my application and knowledge in this way ; and the remainder is
a redundance which, on extraordinary tides, ought to flow to the
writer. The demand for this paper has been very uncommon ;
and, by what I can judge, the sale may in time amount to twelve
thousand. You need not, sir, be ashamed to acknowledge yourself
the author. Preserve but a moiety of the spirit of this Elijah
with which you have set out, and my own interests will instruct
me to serve you effectually.
I now returned as in a triumphal chariot. I never before re-
ceived the prize, as I may say, of personal prowess. The fortune
of my father the fortune of all men living who were merely born
to fortune diminished beneath me. O how sweet, said I to my-
self, how delicious are the fruits of a man's own plantation ! Then,
like the sagacious and independent spider, his labours will be
crowned with personal honour and success, while he spins his sub-
sistence from his proper bowels. It is then, and then only, that a
man may be said to be the true proprietor of what he possesses ;
and the value is endeared, and the enjoyment doubled, thereby.
I hastened to impart my transports to the two loved objects of
all my cares and satisfactions. Jenny told me that her mistress
was not at home, but that Miss Arabella was above in her closet.
I ran up, I tapped at the door, but no one answered. Again I
G
82 THE FOOL OF QUALITY.
tapped and added the soft voice of affection, requesting to be
admitted. At length she opened, but looked pale, and with
swollen and downcast eyes. I perceived she had been in tears,
and a sudden frost fell upon all my delights. What is the matter,
miss, I cried ; my sister, my sweet friend, my dearest Arabella ?
and I gently took her hand between both of mine. I wish you
had not come at this time, Mr. Clement, said she, coolly. But you
must permit me to keep my little griefs to myself. Yes, I replied,
if it is your pleasure to torture, to kill me outright, refuse me my
portion in your interests and concerns. O, Mr. Clement, says she,
your soul is too generous I dare not tell you ; I feel what you
would suffer should you know that you are concerned in the cause
of my tears. But we must part, sir indeed, we must ; we must
part, Mr. Clement, and that suddenly.
Here her voice failed, and throwing herself into a chair, she
burst out afresh into a gush of affliction, while I stood astonished,
and, dropping beside her on one knee, awaited with unspeakable
anguish the suspension of her grief.
At length, perceiving my situation Else, sir, she cried, I entreat
you to rise and take a chair beside me, and I will tell you as fast
as I can of this distressful business.
You must know that I was, a while ago, at the Miss Hodgins*.
They are very friendly, and good young women, and told me in
confidence, though with much concern, of a whisper in the neigh-
bourhood, that my aunt had entertained a young gentleman in the
house who was admitted to such familiar and convenient intimacies,
as could not, at all times, be without their consequence, especially
between persons of our age and sex.
Now, Mr. Clement, I am no way ashamed to confess that I have
nothing in heaven but my innocence, nor on earth but my cha-
racter; and I think you wish me better than to desire that I
should forfeit the one or the other. Desire it ! O heavens ! I sud-
denly exclaimed, I will for ever guard them both to the last drop
of my blood, and last breath of my life ! Alas ! cried Arabella, you
are the man, of all others, whom the world would not admit for
my champion in this case ; they are absolute judges ; they ought
to be obeyed ; our parting will be painful, but it must be com-
plied with.
But, my sister, my Arabella, most lovely and most beloved of all
the human species ! tell me, said I, my angel, is there no other way,
no expedient to satisfy a misdeeming world, save a remedy that is
worse than death itself? No, said she, with an air somewhat re-
solute and exalted, there is no other expedient ; at least, no other
to which I can consent. O, Miss Graves ! answered I, with a hasty
dejection, if that is the case you shall be obeyed ; I am indeed very
unhappy, but I will not be importunate. Adieu, dearest of creatures,
adieu, for ever ! I spoke, and suddenly withdrew, and gave her,
as I imagined, the last farewell look.
Hold, sir ! she cried ; pray, stay a moment. I should be wretched
beyond expression if you went away in the greatest of all errors.
But is it possible you should think that I could mean any slight
to you, Mr. Clement ? No, sir, no, of all men living ; indeed, it was
THE FOOL OF QUALITY. 83
not possible. I spoke through an humble sense of my own de-
merits; my determination was just; I do not repent me of it.
I I perhaps, sir, I have not understood you; indeed, I scarce
know what 1 say or mean myself. Of this, however, be assured,
that I can neither do, nor ever did, nor ever can, mean any offence
to Mr. Clement.
While she spoke I had kneeled before her. I took her hand and
pressed it to my lips and my bosom. My Arabella, said I, I confess
that this was no premeditated motion of mine. Nay, this very
morning, the world should not have prevailed with me to have
accepted this hand for which I now kneel. I was then poor and
wretched, without resource ; and I could not think of bringing
distress upon her, independent of whose happiness I could have no
enjoyment. I was sensible that I loved you with infinite tender-
ness, with unspeakable ardour ; but my passion did not dare to
admit of hope I could have suffered all things to have heaped
blessings upon you ; but I would not permit to my soul the distant,
though dear wish, of being happy with you. Ah! what posture
is this ? exclaimed Arabella. Nay, you shall not stir, I cried, nor
will I rise till you have heard me a few words. Since morning,
I say, I have got room to hope that my Arabella would not be so
unhappy as I feared, in being united to me. I will not urge her,
however. I leave her free I leave her mistress of her own will
and actions ; but here I vow to heaven, that whether she live or
die, consent or not consent, I will never marry another. I am,
from this moment, her wedded for eternity, the faithful and fond
hi sband of her image and remembrance.
So saying, I rose and seated myself beside her. She looked
astonished and affected beyond the power of utterance; but,
covering her face with a handkerchief, she gently leaned toward
me, and shed a plenteous shower of tears upon my bosom.
When Mrs. Graves returned, I told her of my extraordinary
success at the bookseller's. I had before made her the treasurer
of my little possessions, and I poured my twenty pieces into
her lap.
Arabella, as I conjectured, did not delay to impart to her aunt
the late adventure; for I observed that the eyes of that good
woman dwelt upon me with a fresh accession of fondness and
delight.
Having finished my third paper, I took it to Wellcot, who pre-
sented me with twenty guineas ; and further, acknowledged himself
my debtor. Keturning homeward, I cast up, in a pleasing kind of
mental arithmetic, how much my weekly twenty guineas would
amount to at the year's end, and found it much beyond my occasions,
even in the state of matrimony.
I now looked upon myself as in the certain receipt of a plentiful
income, and this encouraged me to press for the completion of my
happiness. Decency alone could give difficulty or delay in an affair
that was equally the wish of all parties. We were privately married
in the presence of the Miss Hodgins' and two or three other
neighbours ; and I was put in possession of the blushingest, fear-
fullest, and fondest of all brides.
G2
84 THE FOOL OF QUALITY.
Job very justly says " Shall we receive good at the hands of
God, and not receive evil?" And yet, I imagine, that the recol-
lection of past happiness rather heightens than alleviates the sense
of present distress. My soul, in those days, enjoyed a tide of delight
to the fulness of its wishes, and to the stretch of its capacity. I
thought that till then no person had ever loved as I loved. But
the love of my Arabella was a kind of passion that wanted a new
name whereby to express it. It was an absence a sort of death
to all other objects. It was a pleasure too paining ; a distressful
attention ; the avarice of a miser who watches over his hoard, and
joins to the rapture with which he beholds it, the terrifying ideas
of robbery and loss.
I had now, within the space of five weeks, received about one
hundred and twenty guineas on the sale of my Monitor, when, going
abroad one evening, I was stopped, within a few doors of my house,
by a genteel-looking person, who asked if my name was Clement ?
It is, sir, I answered. Then sir, says he, I arrest you in his ma-
jesty's name for sedition, and a libel against the government.
Then, beckoning to three or four sergeants that attended, he had
me directly seized and conveyed toward Newgate.
As I was not of a timorous temper, nor conscious of the smallest
tincture of the crimes with which I was charged, I should have
made little more than a jest of this business had I not trembled for
the apprehensions of those who I knew would tremble for me.
On the way, this officer informed me that my bookseller had be-
trayed me, and had confessed to the ministers that I was the author
of a famous pamphlet, entitled the Weekly Monitor. Being delivered
to the keeper, I put a few pieces into his hand, and was conducted
to a decent apartment, considering the place.
I immediately sent for Humphrey Cypher, Esq., sergeant-at-law,
whom I had once occasionally fee'd in behalf of Mrs. Graves ; and
I sent, at the same time, for a set of the WeeHy Monitor. When
Mr. Cypher came I put five pieces into his hand, and having told
him my case, I requested him to peruse the papers in question, and
to give me his opinion thereon. Having read them with due at-
tention Mr. Clement, says he, I perceive that you are a learned
and ingenious young gentleman ; but I find that you are better
acquainted with the republics of Greece, than with the nature and
constitution of our limited monarchy. Hence, alone, hath proceeded
some lapses and misapplications that your adversaries would lay hold
of. Yet there is nothing grossly scurrilous or malicious throughout,
nor what may amount to the incurring of a prsemunire, by the most
violent constraint or wresting of the sense. If you are inclined,
says he, to proceed in the course of these papers, I would advise
you to put in bail, and to stand the action. But as I am persuaded
that the court have commenced this prosecution as a matter merely
in terrorem, to deter you from a work that gives them great disgust,
if you have any genteel friend who would solicit in your favour,
and promise a future conduct more amenable to power, you would
undoubtedly be discharged without further cost or trouble.
I returned my warm acknowledgments to the sergeant for his
friendly counsel, and told him I would consider of it before I gave
TEE FOOL OF QUALITY. 85
him further trouble. When he was gone I despatched a letter to
Mrs. Graves, wherein I gave her an account of my present situation,
in a manner as little alarming as possible. I requested her to pro-
vide bail for my appearance at bar, but insisted that, till this was
done, neither she nor Arabella should come to my prison, and that
I had given express orders that they should not be admitted.
Alas ! had they complied with my directions, how happy might
we have been all together at this day ! But the excess of their
goodness was the cause of our common ruin. Their affection would
not be satisfied with simple bail ; and they resolved never to rest
till they had procured my full discharge.
They went about to all their customers of any distinction. They
solicited, petitioned, and bribed without measure. They borrowed
money to the utmost extent of their credit; and pawned or sold
all their effects under prime cost. They gave a purse to one to
bring them acquainted with another, on whom they bestowed a
larger sum to introduce them to a third. Having at length made
their way to Lord Stivers, an agent of the minister, he thought he
saw an advantage in granting their request, and my discharge was
made out without further delay.
On the fifth evening from my imprisonment the door of my
chamber opened, and in came my dear aunt with my dearer
Arabella they flew upon me they clasped me on each side in
their arms, and my wife instantly swooned away upon my bosom.
She soon revived, however, at the known voice of love; and as
every door for my enlargement had been previously opened, we
went down, stepped into the coach, and drove home directly.
Here I saw the first subject and cause of alarm the shop was
shut up! I was shocked, and felt a sudden chillness come upon
me, but did not venture to inquire, except by my eyes.
The kettle being down, and all seated to tea, I introduced the
affair with an affected unconcern, and, by question after question,
artfully extracted from my companions the whole history and ad-
ventures of the five preceding days, whereby I found that they had
expended in my behalf beyond the last penny of their own sub-
stance ; and that nothing remained save one hundred and fifty
pounds, to which the several deposits amounted, which I had made
with Mrs. Graves.
I could now no longer contain myself. Cruel woman inhuman
friends ! I cried ; the bitterness of enmity, the rancour of malice,
could never have brought an evil like this upon me. Accursed
wretch that I am ! ordained to be the instrument of perdition to
those whom I would feed with my blood and foster with my vitals !
"Would to heaven I had not been born ! or would I had been cut
off by some quick and horrid judgment ere this had happened !
Here Mrs. Graves drew her chair close to mine, and catching
me about the neck, and dropping upon me a few tears, that she
struggled to suppress Do not grieve, my child, she cried ; do not
afflict yourself for nothing. All is as it should be. There is no
harm done. Your Arabella and I can always earn genteel and in-
dependent bread, without shop or other means than the work of
our hands. We can never want, my Hammy. We have done
86 THE FOOL OF QUALITY.
nothing for you. Neither has any thing happened wherewith you
ought to reproach yourself. What we did was for ourselves, for
the relief of the anguish of our own hearts ; to bring you home
to us again as soon as possible, my son, since we have found that
we could live no longer without you.
Within a few days I perceived that my dear aunt began to
decline in her health, perhaps occasioned by her late fatigue and
anxiety of spirits. I brought an able physician to her, but he
could form no judgment of the nature of her disorder, till some time
after, when her complexion began to change, and the doctor de-
clared her to be in the jaundice. He began to apply to the
customary medicines, and no care nor expense was spared for her
recovery. Arabella and I sat up with her alternately every night,
and all the day we read to her some book of amusement, in order
to dissipate the melancholy of her disease. But, alas ! all our cares
and remedies, our attention and solicitude, our prayers and tears,
proved equally unsuccessful, and at the end of five months she
expired within our arms.
Arabella then quitted her hold, and crossing her arms upon her
bosom, and looking eagerly on the face once so lovely, and always
beloved ! You are then at peace, said she, my mother. O death !
hadst thou not enough of terrors in thy aspect, without adding
to thy agonies those of tearing from us that which we prized
above life? my friend! my only parent! my dearest, dearest
mother! She could say no more, but immediately fainted away
upon the body.
I took her up in my arms, and, carrying her into the next room,
I laid her on the bed. I ordered Jenny and the two nurse-keepers
to take care of her recovery, and charged them not to permit her
to see her aunt any more.
I then returned to the chamber wherein the precious ruins of
the half of my world was laid. I locked the door within side.
I approached the body, and hung over it, and gazed upon it with
inexpressible emotion. I repeatedly clapped my hands together.
I stooped down, and kissed and rekissed her cold h'ps in an agony
of affection. I gave a free scope to my tears, sobs, and lamentations.
Ah ! I cried, my parent, my patroness ; ah, mother to the son of
your unhappy election ! Have I lost you, my only prop ? Are you
for ever departed from me, my support and consolation? I was
abandoned by the world, by friends, father, and relations ; but you
became the world and all relations to me. " I was a stranger and
you took me in ; I was sick, and in prison, and you ministered unto
me." But you are gone, you are gone from me afar off; and I die
a thousand deaths in the anguish of surviving you. Here you lie,
my mother, the victim of your goodness to your unlucky guest.
Wretch that I am, doomed to bring no portion save that of calamity
to those who regard me ! Woe of woes, where now shall I ease my
soul of its insupportable burden ? of the debt with which it labours
to this kind creature? She will no more return to take ought
at my hands, and I must suffer the oppression through life and
through eternity!
Having thus vented the excesses of my passion, my spirits sub-
THE FOOL OF QUALITY. 87
sided into a kind of gloomy calm. I returned to my wife. But
I see, sir, you are too much affected. I will not dwell on this
melancholy scene any longer.
When I had discharged doctor's fees, apothecaries' bills, and
funeral expenses, I found that our fortune did not amount to fifty
pounds. My wife was now far advanced in her pregnancy; her
labour was hastened by her grief and late fatigues ; and she was
delivered of that boy whom your charity a second time brought
into this world.
As I was now all things to my Arabella, the only consolation she
had upon earth, I never left her during her illness. By the time
she was up and about, what with the charges of child-bearing, and
a quarter's rent, &c., our fund was again sunk within the sum of ten
pounds ; and I was going one evening to look out for some employ-
ment, when we heard a rapping of distinction at the door.
Jenny came in a hurry, and brought us word that Lord Stivers
was in the parlour, and desired to speak with me. I went down,
greatly surprised, and something alarmed at his visit. Mr. Clement,
says he, with a familiar air, I have long wished to see you ; but I
did not think it seasonable to disturb you during the misfortune of
your family, and the illness of your wife. Your Weekly Monitors
have genius and spirit, but they have done some mischief which we
wish to have remedied. As how, pray, my lord ? Why, Mr. Clement,
I never knew a writing in favour of liberty, or against any measures
of government, which the populace did not wrest in favour of
licentiousness, and to the casting aside all manner of rule. Now,
Mr. Clement, we want you to undertake our cause, which is by
much the more reasonable and orderly side of the argument ; in
short, we want you to refute your own papers.
O, my lord ! I answered, I should think it an honour to serve
your lordship or the ministry on any other occasion. But in a
matter that must bring public infamy upon me, indeed, my lord,
you must excuse me. I should be pointed at, as an apostate and
prostitute, by all men, and bring my person and writings into
such disgrace, as would for ever disable me from serving either
myself or your lordship.
Well, sir, replied my lord, I will not then insist on a formal
refutation of your own writings. I only ask, if you are willing to
engage in our quarrel, as far as is consistent with honour and truth?
I am, my lord, I rejoined, as far as is consistent with my own
credit and the good of my country.
The good of your country, Mr. Clement ! says my lord. I hope
you do not think that government is contrary to the good of your
country. Pray, in what do you make this LIBERTY consist, of
which you are become so eminent a patron?
There are two sorts of LIBEKTY, my lord, I answered: the first
constitutes the duty and happiness of a man, independent of com-
munity ; the second constitutes the privilege and happiness of a man,
merely as he is a member of any state or commonwealth.
Independent of community, a man is so far free, and no further,
than he acts up to the dictates of reason and duty, in despite of
inward appetite and outward influence.
88 THE FOOL OF QUALITY.
As a member of community, a man is so far free, and no further,
than as every other member of that community is legally restrained
from injuring his person, or encroaching on his property.
Inimitably well defined ! cried his lordship. I have read volumes,
in folio, upon the subject; but never knew what LIBEBTY was
before. Well, Mr. Clement, as this LIBERTY of yours is, in all
respects, so opposite to the licentiousness I was talking of, it cannot
but make mainly in favour of good government. I therefore
request you to write a treatise to the purpose of your definition ;
and to take us with you, as far as you can. We shall not be un-
grateful ; we are good paymasters, sir. Why do you hesitate ? Did
you not tell me you were disposed to serve us ?
My lord, I replied, I fear I should fall greatly short of your
expectations. I am not studied in the constitution of modern states ;
and how shall I be able to justify any government with respect to
measures that, perhaps, are a secret to all except the ministers?
I must further observe to your lordship, that my former field would
be greatly contracted on this occasion. It is very easy and obvious
to find fault and to call in question ; but to vindicate truth itself
against popular prejudice, hoe opus, Me labor est.
Mr. Clement, says my lord, I am proud that we have got a gen-
tleman of so much honesty and ingenuity to befriend us. It shall
be my care to provide you with materials, and I am confident that
so great a master of his instrument as you are, will make excellent
music on a few fundamental notes. Here are twenty guineas
earnest, and ten guineas shall be paid you weekly, till we can fix
you in some station of due honour and advantage. I will take a
glass or a dish of tea with you in a few days, and I wish you a
good-evening.
On the third morning after this interview, my lord returned
with a large bundle of antipatria pamphlets in his chariot, and
some manuscript notes and hints for my instruction. He break-
fasted with us, and was easy, polite, and cheerful.
I now entered on my new province, but not with usual ardour.
As I had formerly lashed the insolence, encroachments, and rapa-
ciousness of power, less ambitious of conquest over aliens and
enemies, than over the very people it was ordained to protect : I
now, on the other hand, rebuked with like acrimony the riotous,
factious, and seditious propensities of a turbulent, licentious, and
unsatisfied people, ever repugnant to government, and reluctant to
the reign of the gentlest ruler. I proved, from many authorities
and instances, derived from Greece and Rome, that power is never
so dangerous to a populace as when it is taken into their own
hands ; that the governors and governed, by the violence of col-
lision, are apt to fly to extremes on either side ; that anarchy is
the most direct of all roads to tyranny ; and that a people, who
have no will to be governed, reduce themselves to the necessity of
being crushed, insulted, and governed, whether they will or no.
Now, sir, though I thus alternately sided with the people against
power, and with power against the people, yet I struck at nothing
but faults on either hand, and equally asserted, on both sides of the
question, the causo of my country, of liberty, and tnith.
THE FOOL OF QUALITY. 89
I took five times the pains with these latter papers that I did
with the former, and yet I confess I had not equal pleasure in the
delivery. I am also persuaded that these had more than double
the merit of the other; and, in point of sentiment, moral and general
instruction, were of twenty times the value to mankind ; but how
can that instruct which is not attended to? It was intimated to
the people that these had been written at the instance of their
governors; and they would not have listened to an oracle if
uttered from that quarter.
Six months had now elapsed in these lucubrations. I had deli-
vered to my wife two hundred and sixty guineas, the weekly price
of my labours. We had lived with great frugality. Arabella had
again taken in as much work as her nursing and attention to the
child would admit; and we had some pieces left of our former
remnant, when Lord Stivers called in upon me, with pleasure and
good news, as it were prologue in his aspect.
Mr. Clement, says he, I want to speak to you apart. I had
yesterday some talk with the minister about you, and he has
promised me four hundred a-year pension for you till something
better can be done ; and this is to be wholly clear and over your
weekly wages of ten guineas, while we keep you so hard at work.
But tell me, Clement, says he, laying his hand with an affectionate
familiarity upon my shoulder, are you of a jealous temper? The
furthest from it, my lord, of any man breathing. Oh ! I am glad
of that ; but, if you were, I have nothing exceptionable to propose.
To be short, half a dozen of noblemen, all my friends, and people
of strict probity and virtue, have engaged to spend a share of
to-morrow in a party of pleasure upon the Thames ; and we have,
each of us, laid a bet of a hundred guineas, that from the number
of his relations, his friends, or acquaintance, he will bring the
prettiest woman to this field of contention. I had fixed on Lady
Fanny Standish, a lovely creature, and a relation Oi my own, but
she unfortunately happened to be pre-engaged to one of my rivals.
I am therefore quite at a loss, and must infallibly lose my wager
if you do not favour me with the company of Mrs. Clement. With
her I can make no question of conquest ; and I give you my honour
to pour into her lap the whole five hundred guineas, the just prize
of her beauty.
Why, my lord, I answered, this is indeed a very pleasant project,
and has nothing in it exceptionable that I can perceive, if no one
was to know any thing of the matter. But what will the world
say to see your lordship so paired? Psha, never heed the world,
Clement ! I am your world man. Your lordship has a very good
right to scorn an inferior world, I rejoined ; but the world has an
equal right, and would certainly make use of it, in the scorning
of my wife. What, said he, warmly, you will not then confide her
to my friendship and honour? I will not, my lord, confide her
honour unnecessarily to any man, from under that guardianship
and protection which I vowed to her in marriage. It is very
well, Mr. Clement ; you may hear from me to-morrow. And away
he went.
He was equal to his word. The very next morning I was arrested
90 THE FOOL OF QUALITY.
at his suit for two hundred and fourscore guineas, the amount of
all that I had received from him ; and I was hurried to the Fleet
prison without being permitted to speak to any one.
As my lord knew that, on issue, I must cast him in his action,
and further come upon him for special damage and false duress, it
instantly occurred that this was merely a stratagem for the seduc-
tion of my Arabella ; and her defenceless state gave me inexpressible
torture. I immediately wrote her an account of my situation and
apprehensions, which unhappily for all parties were too well-
founded.
But, sir, I will not afflict you or myself by giving you a detail of
these extraordinary events, as I afterwards learned them from the
mouth of my wife, and from the testimony of others on trial in the
public court. For, alas ! even now, when all anger should be dead,
the remembrance of so much injury and outrage offered to one so
pure, so helpless, and so gentle, wakes up the old indignation, and
stirs my spirit to its centre.
Sufficient to say that, taking occasion by my absence, my lord
paid my wife a visit : that he had the audacity to make base over-
tures to her, and to proffer her a large purse ; the former she had
repulsed with scorn, the latter she had flung after him, as he
retreated baffled and enraged. She then at once commenced to
make up a sum by the sale of furniture, and other articles which
she could spare, and by the afternoon of the following day, with
incredible labour she had procured 40, which, with her former
deposit of 260, was more than sufficient for my release ; and, as she
was putting on her bonnet to come to me, her maid was suddenly
called into the street, and Lord Stivers entered. Then began the
first act of the tragedy which shadowed our life so long ; he had
bribed her servant, and filled her kitchen with his retainers. At
once, and casting aside all disguise, he addressed her in terms
loathsome to her pure womanly nature; and, disregarding her
pathetic prayers and appeals to his better feelings, he proceeded to
such a measure of violence that he stung the lamb into a lioness ;
and finding no help, from earth or heaven, near, in the agony and
the wrath of the minute, she became the justifier of her own purity,
and the executioner in the cause of her endangered honour, by
slaying her brutal assailant.
When the fatal blow was given, she at once went running to the
cradle, where her infant lay crying ; she caught him in her arms ;
and opening the chamber-door softly, and shutting it after her, she
stepped down-stairs as upon feathers, and stealing to the street-door,
she opened it suddenly, rushed into the street, and hurried on till
she came to a stand of coaches, where she hired the first she met,
threw herself hastily into it, and desired the man to drive with all
speed to the Fleet prison.
On her arrival she discharged the action and fees of arrest with
all possible despatch, and then hurried up to my apartment. On
the first gh'mpse I sprung to her, and caught her in my arms with
unspeakable transport; but finding the child with her, and observing
that her breath was quick and uneven, I withdrew a step or two,
and looked eagerly at her ; and perceiving that she was pale, and
THE FOOL OF QUALITY. 91
had a kind of wildness in her eyes and motions What is the
matter, my love, I cried ; what has happened to you ? I have not
been well, she answered with an affected unconcern before the
keeper. But pray come down, my dear; you are much wanted,
and the coach is in waiting.
Nothing further passed between us till we got into the coach,
and that my wife desired the man to drive to some neighbouring
street, and stop at the first door where he saw a bill for lodgings.
For lodgings again, I demanded ; for whom does my Arabella
desire to take lodgings? For you and me, Mr. Clement for you
and me, she cried, wringing her hands together : Lord Stivers lies
weltering in his blood ait our house, deprived of life within this half
hour by my unhappy hand.
I was suddenly struck dumb with surprise and horror. All the
occasions and consequences of this direful event whirled through
my imagination in a fearful succession. What must now become of
my soufs sole enjoyment! what indignities must have been offered!
what outrage might she not, or rather, must she not have suffered,
before she could be brought to perpetrate so terrible a deed! I
grew instantly sick, and putting my head through the window,
desired the coachman to stop at the first tavern. I ordered the
drawer to hasten, with a pint of Spanish white wine, to the door,
and I pressed and compelled my wife to swallow a part. Our
spirits being in some degree settled thereby, we drove to a private
street, on the right-hand of Cheapside, where I took a back-room
and closet, up two pair of stairs, at one Mrs. Jennett's, an old
maid and a mantua-maker. I immediately ordered a fire to be
kindled, and the tea-things to be laid, and, giving the servant a
crown, desired her to bring the value in proper ingredients.
The evening was now shut in ; and, while the maid was abroad,
not a syllable passed between my wife and me. I dreaded to
inquire of what I still more dreaded to understand ; and Arabella
seemed to labour under some mighty oppression. When retiring to
the closet, where our bed stood, she covered her child up warm, and
kneeling down by his side, broke forth into a violent torrent of
tears, intermingled with heavings and half-strangled sobs.
I sat still without seeming to observe her emotion. I was sensible
that nature wanted this kindly relief. The teas and sugars were
brought, the kettle was put on the fire, and the maid had again
retired ; when I gently called to my Arabella to come forth, with
a voice of the truest love, and softest endearment, that ever yet
breathed from a human bosom.
Her eyes were already wiped, her countenance composed, and
her motions and demeanour much more settled than before. She
sat down with a rising sigh, which she checked with a half smile.
My Arabella, said I, my only joy, my unmeasured blessing ! what
is it that thus distracts my dearer part of existence ? Your mind,
your spirit, my angel, is still pure and unpolluted ; and bodies are,
merely as booses, incapable of defilement, being doomed from our
birth to dissolution and corruption. Ah, my Hammy! she ex-
claimed, you are quite beside the mark ; I sigh not, I weep not, I
grieve not for myself. I fear not, nor regard the consequences,
92 THE FOOL OF QUALITY.
however fatal, of what has happened Suppose a sudden and
shameful death ! I thank my God for it, death will offer me a
victim still pure and unpolluted. But, O the wretched Stivers!
what is now become of him, sent, so suddenly and unprovided, to
his eternal audit ? Unhappy that I am ! perhaps an instrument of
perdition to an immortal being. Ah, rather that I had not been
born ! would I had perished in his stead ! A death in the cause of
virtue had been my advocate for mercy.
How is this, my Arabella ? I cried. Is condemnation then to be
brought upon the good because they oppose themselves to evil?
Would you have censured any one living, except yourself, for
having given you this deliverance by the death of the spoiler ? No,
surely, in the daily and nightly robberies, massacres, and assassina-
tions, that the violent machinate against the peaceful; is it the
fault of those who stand in the defence of righteousness, that
villains often perish in the act of transgression ? Tell me, my sweet
mourner, in the sacking of a city, when the wild and bloody soldiery
are loosed to their own delight in burnings, rapines, slaughters,
howlings, and violations ; is it the perpetrators of all these horrors
that you compassionate, when they happen to be crushed in the
ruins they have wrought? Meritorious, my Arabella, most meri-
torious were that hand who should cut a whole host of such infernals
from the earth ; remaining innocence and virtue would be his
debtors for ever. Commiseration to the flagitious is cruelty to the
just ; and he who spares them becomes the accomplice of all their
future crimes.
During tea, my wife gave me an ample narrative of all that
happened at our house while I was in confinement. As she spoke, I
was first speechless with fearful and panting expectation : I was then
kindled into fury and a vehement thirst of vengeance ; and, lastly, I
was elevated into an awful rapture. I looked at my wife with eyes
swimming with love and veneration ; I rose from my seat ; I threw
myself on my knees, and worshipped that GODHEAD who inspires
and delights in such perfections as I then saw before me.
Our fortune was now reduced to very little more than fifteen
guineas. We had no clothes but what we wore : and we did not
dare to go or send to our house for others, neither to make our-
selves known to any acquaintance.
We went by the name of Stapleton ; and on the following night
I ventured abroad, and bought for myself a few second-hand shirts,
with a common gown, and some changes of linen for my wife.
On the fifth day, at breakfast, while Arabella was casting her
eye over a newspaper that she had borrowed from Mrs. Jennett,
she turned suddenly pale. What, she cried, before I could question
her, accused of robbery as well as murder ! that is hard, indeed.
But I trust that my lot shall not exceed my resignation. And so
saying, she handed me over the paper with a smile, in which heaven
appeared to open.
The advertisement ran thus "WHEEEAS Arabella Clement,
alias Graves, did on the 15th day of September instant, most bar-
barously stab and murder the right Hon. James * * * *, late Lord
Stivers, at a house where she formerly had kept a milliner's shop,
THE FOOL OF QUALITY. 93
in Fleet-street : and whereas she did further rob the said right hon.
&c. of a large purse of money, his gold repeater, snuff-box, diamond-
ring, &c. ; and did, lastly, flee for the same, as may be proved, and
is evident, from the examination and testimony of three concurring
witnesses : Now his majesty, in his gracious abhorrence of such
crimes, doth hereby promise a reward of three hundred guineas to
any person who shall stop, discover, or arrest the said Arabella, so
as that she may be brought to condign and adequate punishment, if
any such may be found, for such unequalled offences."
O, said my wife, I perceive that my enemies will swear home
indeed ! Their plunder of Lord Stivers can no way be assured save
by my condemnation. But, be it as it may ; that Providence, who
overrules the wickedness of this world, may yet give submission a
clue to escape its perplexities, and my innocence, I trust, will be an
equivalent to all that the world can inflict, and much more than an
equivalent to all that it can bestow.
I now had every thing to fear for my Arabella, as well from the
interested villainy of the witnesses, as from the power of the
ministry, and the resentment of the relations of so great a man ; and
I looked upon her death to be as certain as her caption. Had I
been the first in remainder to the greatest estate in England, I
would have exchanged my whole interest for as much ready cash as
would have served to convey us to some region of safety. But this
was not practicable with the very small remainder of the wreck of
our fortune ; and we had taken our lodging certain at fifty shillings
per quarter.
We appeared as little as possible, even to the lodgers of the
house ; and I intimated to my landlady, that it was the fate of
many a gentleman to be obliged to abscond till his affairs could be
compounded with hard-hearted creditors.
During the space of nine months our principal diet was weak tea
and bread ; and if we ventured, at odd times, on a small joint of
meat, it served us cold, hashed, and minced, from one week to the
other.
As my wife did not dare to take in work, nor I to stir abroad
to look for employment, our chief entertainment was the reading
some old folio books of history and divinity, which I borrowed
from Mrs. Jennett, and which had belonged to her father.
How small must be the cravings of simple nature, when a family
like ours, accustomed to affluence, could subsist in London, without
murmuring, for upward of nine months, on less than eight guineas!
But our fund was now exhausted to a fow shillings ; and my sword,
watch, and buckles were also gone, in discharge of our three
quarters' rent to the landlady. Kuin stared us in the face. I
beheld as it were a gulf, unfathomable and impassable, opening
beneath our feet, and heaven and earth joined to push us down the
precipice.
We yet lived a month longer, on coarse bread and cold water,
with a little milk which we got, now and then, for the child ; but
I concealed from my wife that we had not a single sixpence now
left upon earth.
I looked up to heaven, but without love or confidence. Dreadful
94 THE FOOL OF QUALITY.
power ! I cried out, who thus breakest to powder the poor vessels
of thy creation ! Thou art said to be a bounteous and benevolent
caterer to the spawn of the ocean, and to the worms of the earth.
Thou clothest the birds of the air and the beasts of the forest ;
they hunger, and find a banquet at hand. Thou sheddest the dew
of thy comforts even on the unrighteous ; thou openest thy hand,
and all things living are said to be filled with plenteousness. Are
we alone excepted from the immensity of thy works? shall the
piety of my wife, shall the innocence of my infant, thus famish,
unregarded and unpitied, before thee ?
Ah, it is I who am the accursed thing who bring plagues upon
all with whom I am connected ! Even the labours of my life, the
issues of my honest industry, have been changed by thy ordinances
into nothing but damage ; to the imprisonment of my person ; to
the ruin of those who had the misfortune to befriend me ; and to
the death, danger, and desolation of all whom I held dear. I strive
in vain with thy omnipotence ; it is too mighty for me, and crushes
me below the centre. Pour out, then, the vessels of thy wrath
upon my head, but, on my head alone, just Creator ! and take
these little ones to thy mercy, for they cannot have participated of
the guilt thou art pleased to impute to me.
The night was now advanced ; but that which fell upon my soul,
was a night which would admit no ray of comfort, nor looked
ever to behold another morning. I wished ior dissolution to my-
self, to the universe. I wished to see the two proprietors of my
soul's late affections now lying pale and breathless before my eyes.
I would not have endured my hell another moment. I would have
given myself instant death ; but I dreaded to leave my desolate
widow and helpless orphan, without a friend, as I then conceived,
either in heaven or earth.
My wife had lain down with her infant on the bed. A sudden
reflection started. My death, thought I, may yet be useful to those
for whom only I could wish to live. I rose frantically determined.
My brain was on fire. I took down an old pistol which hung in a
corner ; I put it into my breast ; down-stairs I went, and issued
to the street.
I was bent on something desperate, but knew not what. I had
not gone far when I saw a large tavern open beside me. I passed
through the entry, and running up-stairs, boldly entered the dining
room, where a numerous company of gentlemen sat round their
bottle. I clapped to the door ; and taking out the pistol Gentle-
men, I cried ; I starve, I die for want ; resolve instantly to relieve,
or to perish along with me.
They all fixed their eyes upon me ; but the meagre frenzy, as I
suppose, which they saw in my countenance, held them silent. The
person who was nearest, directly took out his purse and presented
it to me. I again returned it to him, and putting up my pistol
No, no, sir, I cried, I will not take your gold, I am no robber.
But give me some silver among ye, to keep a while from the grave
three creatures who famish amidst a plentiful world.
They all, as by one consent, put their hands to their pockets,
and instantly made a heap of upwards of three pounds. I de-
TEE FOOL OF QUALITY. 95
voured it with my eyes ; I beheld it as a mint of money ; and
panting, and grappling at it like a vulture, I stuffed it into a side-
pocket ; and, being too full of acknowledgments to thank my
benefactors by word or token, I burst forth into tears, and, turn-
ing from them, I got once more into the street without any
interruption.
I made directly home, and, stepping softly up-stairs, I first re-
stored the pistol to its old station. I then went to the closet,
where my wife lay still asleep. I gently waked her by the fond-
ness of my caresses. My Arabella, I cried, I have ventured out for
the first time, and heaven has sent us some small relief by a friend
that I happened to meet. Here, my love, I said, putting a crown
into her hand ; call the maid, and send out for some comfortable
sustenance ; our fast has been long indeed.
Within a few days our strength and our spirits began to recruit,
though we still continued to live much within the bounds of tem-
perance. My soul again settled into a kind of sullen calm, and
looked forth, though at a distance, to some future dawning.
One day, as my landlady's Bible lay shut before me, a sudden
thought occurred. I breathed up to God a short and silent ejacula-
tion, beseeching him to instruct me in what I ought to do, by the
passage upon which my thumb should happen to rest on opening
the book. I instantly made the venture, and found the following
words : " I will arise and go to my father, and will say unto him,
Father, I have sinned against thee, and before heaven, and am no
more worthy to be called thy son."
Alas ! I was far from imagining at that time that it was no other
than my Father in heaven who called me, and who would thereby
have directed and conducted me to himself.
I puzzled and racked my memory to discover in what I had
given just offence to my earthly progenitor, but resolved, at all
events, to observe the admonition.
In the dusk of the evening, I tied my handkerchief sailor-like
about my neck, I pulled my wig forward, and slouching my hat, I
slid out of doors ; and, stooping half double, I limped with a coun-
terfeited gait toward my father's. I was duly apprised that, if I
knocked at the door, or directly inquired for him, I should not
be admitted. I therefore walked to and again, now near, now aloof,
for near an hour, before his door, in patient expectation of his
appearance.
I had repeated this exercise for five successive evenings, when
the door at length opened, and a servant in livery came up and
accosted me. Is your name Clement, sir? Suppose it were, says
I. Supposing so, replied he, I am ordered to tell you that my
master is well informed of all your wicked designs ; and that, if
ever you appear again in sight of his windows, he will send you to
Newgate without bail or mainprize, and prosecute you to the last
of the laws of the land.
We parted without another word, and I crossed over the way to
a chandler's shop. The good woman of the house also happened
to sell some small ale in her back apartments. I called for a mug,
and requested her company for a few minutes. After some intro-
96 THE FOOL OF QUALITY.
dnctory chat, I addressed her in a manner that I judged most en-
gaging: for one in her sphere. She very freely told me the his-
tory of my father and his present family ; and further, that it was
his custom on every Monday and Friday to repair to the Trades-
man's Club, at the Golden-anchor in Temple-lane, about eight of
the clock at night, and not to return till about eleven.
I went home something satisfied with this intelligence, as I now
knew where to find my unnatural parent, though his last barbarous
and insulting message had rendered me hopeless, and quite averse
to any kind of application to him.
We had now lived three months longer on the last booty or
charity, I know not which to call it. We were again reduced to
the last shilling, and, what was still worse, our landlady became
importunate for her quarter's rent. My wife had lately requested
her to look out for some sempstry-work among the neighbours.
This she promised to do, but purposely declined, as she and her
family got the benefit of her labour gratis.
I began again to return to my former evil thoughts. I resolved
to make war upon the whole race of man, rather than my wife and
infant should perish in my sight : but I reflected that it was more
equitable to begin with a father, on whom nature had given me a
right of dependence, than to prey upon strangers, on whom ne-
cessity alone could give me any claim.
It was Monday night. The clock struck ten. I took down the
old pistol, and marched toward the Anchor. I patrolled near the
Slace of expectation above an hour. The night was excessive
ark, and no lamps in that part. At length I listened to the sound
of distant steps, and soon after heard a voice cry Murder, murder !
Bobbery ! Watch, watch !
I ran to the cry, and perceived one man on the ground, and
another stooping, in act to rifle his pockets. I instantly drew my
pistol, and striking at the robber's head with my full force, I laid
him senseless on the pavement. I then gently raised the other,
who was bleeding and stunned by the stroke he had received. I
supported him step by step toward a distant lamp, where at length
we arrived, and found a tavern open. I entered, and ordered a room
with fire and lights ; and desired that a surgeon should be imme-
diately called. The gentleman, whose face was nearly covered
with blood and dirt, began now to recover his strength and senses.
I got him to swallow a small dram of spirits, and he stepped with
me up-stairs, scarcely leaning on my shoulder.
While we sat by the fire, and a napkin and warm water were
getting ready, the stranger grew passionate in his acknowledg-
ments for the life which he said he owed me, and which service he
promised to recompense to the stretch of his power and fortunes.
But when he had washed and wiped away the blood and dirt from
his face ; heaven ! what was my emotion at the sight of an aspect
once so loved and so revered ! All my injuries and resentments
vanished instantly from my memory. I fell at his knees with
a great cry Is it you, then, my father? my once dear, my ever
dear and lamented father ! Is it the face of a father that I at last
behold? I burst into tears: I wept aloud. I interruptedly de-
THE FOOL OF QUALITY. 97
manded Will you not know me ? will you not own me ? will not
nature speak in you? will you not acknowledge your son, your
once beloved Hammel, so long the comfort of your age, and the
pride of your expectations ?
While I spoke, my father looked wild and eager upon me. He
at length recollected me through all my leanness and poor apparel ;
and, hesitating, replied I I I believe indeed you are my child
Hammel, and straight fainted away.
CHAPTER VIIL
DURING his fit, the surgeon came with his instruments and
dressings ; and having in vain attempted to restore him, by sprink-
ling water in his face, and by the application of hartshorn to his
nose and temples, he took some blood from him, whereon he opened
his eyes, and began to breathe with freedom. He then examined
his wound, which was a little above his forehead, and declared it so
slight as scarce to be an excuse for keeping his chamber. The
surgeon, having dressed it, received his fee and retired; and my
father ringing for the drawer, ordered up a flask of Burgundy, with
a cold fowl, oil, and vinegar.
When the table was laid, and the waiter desired to withdraw,
my father again looked earnestly and compassionately upon me
I believe, says he, my child may be hungry; and straight his
countenance falling, and the muscles of his lips beginning to work,
he broke into tears. Barbarous wretch ! he exclaimed ; unnatural
ostrich ! who could thus leave the first-begotten of thy bowels to
the nakedness of the sands, and to the blasting of the elements.
No, no, my father, I cried, again throwing myself on my knees
before him ; kill me not with your tears, crush me not with this
your unmerited concern ! All is well, all is happy and blessed as
I can bear it to be. This moment overpays my years of anguish ;
it is like heaven after passing the vale of death and mortal sufferings.
After supper, of which my father scarce tasted, he got up, and,
as I rose at the same time, he stepped to me, and catching me
passionately in his arms, and putting his neck across mine My
child, he cried ; my beloved child, my life's blessed preserver ! come
once more to my bosom, enter thy forsaken mansion ! Too long has
it been desert and desolate without thee ! But here I vow to the
Almighty, that no stepdames, nor viperous instruments, shall ever
hereafter insinuate between us ; accursed be they who shall attempt
to divide us ; and may they come to an evil end who shall desire
to deprive me of thee, the light of mine eyes, till I am cold and
insensible to every other joy.
While we sat over our bottle, my father called for ink and paper,
and first presenting me with a purse of fifty guineas, he again
gave me a bill at sight on his banker for five hundred pounds.
I started up, but stopping me, he cried Hold, hold, my Hammy,
I see myself overpaid in the acknowledgments of that dear though
meagre countenance ; and then as I kneeled before him, with both
H
98 THE FOOL OF QUALITY.
hands held over me, and eyes raised to heaven, he blessed me in
an ejaculation of the tenderest ardour.
The reckoning being discharged, and two chairs ordered to the
door, my father desired me to meet him at the same tavern the
following evening ; and said that, in the mean time, he would think
of settling some certain income upon me ; and thus we parted, as
though our souls had accompanied each other.
It was now near two o'clock, and the morning bitter cold. My
Arabella had, long since, put her child to rest ; and I found her in
tears by a fire, scarce alive. She started up on my entering ; her
face gleamed with a sickly joy ; and she uttered some soft re-
proaches, of love and apprehension, for my absence at those hours.
Before I ventured to let in the full tide of our returning happi-
ness on her weak and alarmed spirits, I took out some confections
and a pint of sack, which I had purposely brought in my pocket.
I broke some Naples biscuit into a cup, and pouring some of the
wine upon it, I set her the example, and prevailed on her to eat.
Meanwhile she gazed earnestly and inquisitively in my face.
My Hammy, she tenderly cried, what is the meaning of this?
What eyes are these, Hammy? what new kind of a countenance
is this you have brought home to me ? Ah, forbid it, my God !
that the darling of my soul should have done any thing criminal.
First, perish your Arabella, perish also her infant, rather than,
on our account, or on any account, the least of the virtues of my
Hammy should be lost.
No, no, my angel, I cried, daughter of highest heaven ! God has
been wonderfully gracious to me ; he blesses me for your sake, my
Arabella. I have seen my father ; we are happily reconciled, and
famine and affliction shall come near us no more.
I then took the bellows and lighted up a good fire, and while we
were emptying our pint, of which I compelled my wife to take the
larger share, I gave her a transporting detail of what had passed,
and poured my purse of guineas into her lap. So we went to bed
in peace, regardless of futurity, the happiest of all the pairs on
whom the succeeding sun arose.
We lay in bed till the day was far advanced. I then ordered
some comforting white-wine caudle for breakfast, and, calling up
the landlady, I discharged our quarter's rent.
When she was dismissed, I consulted with my wife whether she
would choose to retire to France or Holland ; or rather to York, or
some other remote place within the kingdom. But, reflecting again
on the present excess of my father's tenderness for me, she joined
in thinking it advisable to act with his concurrence ; and I de-
termined that very evening to reveal to him, in confidence, the
whole pathetic history of our marriage and adventures.
Meanwhile I thought it best, in all events, to secure the means
of moderately compassing our purpose, by taking up the 500
from my father's banker. I found, by experience, that I had now
little to fear from being known to any one. My shabby apparel,
and emaciated face and limbs, that had prevented the knowledge
and remembrance of a father, appeared a double security against
all other eyes. I therefore adventured, though not without circum-
THE FOOL OF QUALITY. 99
spection, to Mr. Giles's in Lombard-street, and, presenting my bill,
demanded payment.
My friend, said Mr. Giles, it is not two hours since a stop was
put to the payment of that draught; and I was desired, at the
same time, to put this paper into the hands of the party who should
call. So saying he gave me a note, which I opened with a trepida-
tion that was turned into agony on reading the following words :
"To HAMMEL CLEMENT.
"Most subtle, and most accursed of all cruel contrivers! thou
didst thyself, then, set that villain on thy foolish and fond father ;
by whom his blood was shed, and his life nearly lost. I renounce
thee, I abjure thee from henceforth, and for ever. And as I con-
tinue to disclaim all sorts of ties with thee, either here or hereafter ;
so may heaven continue to prosper,
" BARTHOLOMEW CLEMENT."
On reading this dreadful paper, I retired from the counter with-
out speaking a word. I got home, I know not how ; for I neither
knew what I did, nor considered what I was about. I walked up-
stairs without perceiving that I was followed. But I had scarce
got into my room, when five or six men entered almost along with
me; and one of them stepping directly up to my wife, cried
Mistress, I arrest you in his majesty's name.
Hereat I turned, and was stunned, and roused again in an instant.
I caught up the poker, and aiming at a well-dressed man whose
face was not wholly unknown, and who appeared the most active
and joyous of the crew, I missed the crown of his head, but tore
off one ear, and cut him through his clothes and shoulder to the
bone ; I then flew upon the rest. I dealt my blows with incon-
ceivable fury and quickness. I cleared my room in a few seconds ;
and though several shots were fired at me from the stairs, I chased
them all to the entry, and, returning to my Arabella, I barricadoed
the door.
It was then that she interposed, and, dropping on her knees
before me What is my Hammy about ? she cried ; what madness
has possessed my love ? Would you be guilty of actual and instant
murders, through a rash and vain attempt of rescuing from our
laws a person whom neither God nor man hath yet condemned?
This, indeed, were to ensure the ruin you apprehend. Ah, no, my
heart's master, let us neither commit nor fear iniquity ! Join with
me, my Hammy, let us trust in our God, and nothing but good can
happen unto us.
While she spoke, the late terrors of her countenance disappeared,
and her aspect was gradually overspread with a serenity, to be
imagined, in some measure, from the face of an evening heaven
in autumn, when the songs of harvest are heard through the villages
all about.
I gazed on her with a speechless and complacent reverence.
She gently took the weapon from my unresisting hand ; and, leading
me back, she seated me in the furthest chair. She then removed
every bar and obstacle to their entrance. The stairs were now
H2
100 THE FOOL OF QUALITY.
filled with people who had been called to the assistance of the
king's officers, but they still appeared apprehensive, and fearful of
advancing.
Gentlemen, said Arabella, be pleased to walk in ; I deliver myself
peaceably into your hands; ye shall find no further opposition to
his majesty or the laws. The officers accordingly entered, but
bowing, and with a timid kind of respect ; neither did any of them
offer to lay a hand upon her. Good God, madam ! exclaimed the
foremost, is it possible you should be guilty of the crimes laid to
your charge by that rascal, whom your husband has half killed?
He is carried off to the doctor's; but I think, in my conscience,
that he has got his deserts ; and, as for the few hurts that we have
received, we excuse your husband, madam, for your sake ; and we
think him the braver and the better man for what he did. For, in
truth, sweet madam, you are well worth defending.
I thank ye, gentlemen, said my wife, gracefully smiling and
curtsying ; pray, be pleased to sit while I prepare to attend you.
I am guilty, indeed, of the death of a man, and yet guilty of no-
thing that I would not repeat in the defence of virtue. But,
gentlemen, says she, again smiling, you are likely to be troubled
with more prisoners than you look for. One of them, indeed, is
young, and as little meaning of harm to any one as his mother. I
must, therefore, beg your indulgence in sending for a coach ; and
pray, do me the favour to accept this trifle, as the means of washing
away animosity between you and my husband. So saying, she pre-
sented their chief with a guinea ; who, rising and awfully bowing,
ordered one of the others to step for a coach.
Had the harp of Orpheus been tuned like the voice of my Ara-
bella at this season, it is not to be wondered that tigers should grow
tame, and bears crouch down before him and lick his feet; since
wretches like these, hardened in hourly acts of insolence and in-
humanity, were now awed to downcast reverence, and, on her
return from the closet with her infant in her arms, dropped a tear
of still compassion, as though they had not wholly forgotten that
they were born of women.
In the mean time, my fury having subsided at the instance of my
wife, I should certainly have fainted if I had not been relieved by
a gush of tears ; which I endeavoured to conceal by turning aside
and putting my handkerchief to my face. A cloud of thick dark-
ness again overspread my soul ; and every internal idea grew
pregnant, and laboured with apprehension and horror. I cursed
my meeting with my father, and his treacherous appearance of
bounty, which had served to bring this decisive ruin upon us;
and I looked upon fortune as solicitous and industrious to bring
evil and destruction out of every presentment and promise of
advantage.
Being conducted to Newgate, I agreed with the keeper for a
tolerable apartment at two guineas per week ; and, putting on the
best cheer I could affect before my wife, I sent out for a nourishing
dinner ; for I judged it late to be frugal when death was at our
door, and I had determined not to survive my Arabella a moment.
The day following, I procured copies of the depositions of the
THE FOOL OF QUALITY. 101
three witnesses, the first of whom was our own servant-maid.
These I laid before two of the most learned in the law, but
received no consolation from their report. They told me that, had
my wife been actually guilty of the robbery as alleged, she might
have had some prospect of being acquitted of the murder, by being
enabled to bribe off the evidence. But that, if she was really
innocent of the robbery, as I affirmed, it then became the very
cause as well as interest of the guilty evidence to have her con-
demned on both articles of accusation.
As the fearful day approached, I bought at second-hand two
decent suits of mourning, with the requisite appendages for my
wife and myself. Whenever I could get apart, I was drowned in
my tears, and half-sufibcated by my sobs ; and I did every thing
but pray for my Arabella ; for I could not think of lifting my heart
to heaven, where I had lost all dependence.
In the mean time my beloved daily recovered flesh and health.
Her eyes grew more brilliant, her complexion more clear, her
countenance was as the surface of a depth of peace ; and I gathered,
I knew not why, a kind of reflected confidence by beholding her
aspect.
Early on the fatal morning, when I had left her within at her
prayers, and had pulled my hat over my eyes, and sat down in a
corner to vent the throbbings of my heart, I cast my eye on a
paper that appeared from under the door. I took it up with
precipitation, and in it found the following lines :
Though mountains threat thy naked head,
Though circling gulfs around thee close,
Though help is distant, hope is dead,
Though earth and hell are sworn thy foes.
n.
Yet, Heav'n their malice shall defy;
And, strong in last extremes, to save,
Shall stand with guardian seraphs nigh,
And with thy sland'rers glut the grave.
I had no sooner read this paper, than I dropped down involun-
tarily on my knees. My hands clenched together ; and I breathed
up a most ardent petition, that some over-ruling power would take
my Arabella under his protection.
Soon after she came forth, adorned like the moon when girt
about with clouds, through whose blackness her beauty breaks
forth with improved lustre.
While we sat at breakfast I presented her with the verses. She
read them over and over with deep attention ; and then returning
them with a smile This, says she, has been the stratagem of some
very charitable person, who judged that hope was wanting to
support me at such a trial.
As the dreadful hour was at hand, and as I had considered before
now that at last it must come, I had prepared a small bottle of
salts and a cordial, to support myself as well as my wife from an
unseemly dejection of spirits in court.
Ah, sir, can you tell me how one thing should come to pass? can
102 THE FOOL OF QUALITY.
you account for this most extraordinary of all the workings in
human nature? that a man at some times should more feelingly
live, or die in others, than in himself. Had I been called to my last
audit, had the decision of my own existence been at stake, my
apprehensions, as I think, could not have equalled what I felt at
that period.
At length the keeper appeared, and warned my Arabella that she
must speedily set out. I turned instantly cold and pale ; and it was
long before I recovered strength to rise from my chair. In the
mean time my wife returned to our bed-chamber, and, bringing
out her infant, gave him in charge to a nurse-keeper; she then
held her hands over him, and raised her eyes to heaven in blessing
for some time. Again she fixed them on his face, and gazing upon
him, as it were, for a last farewell look, tear dropped after tear in
a pathetic and affectionate silence.
Being conducted to the Old Bailey, my wife on entering the
court turned suddenly pale ; and her countenance was downcast
with a diffidence that she could not for some time overcome. The
concourse was excessively great, and chiefly consisting of the nobility
and gentry of both sexes. The great man himself was there, with
a crowd of his dependants, and all the male and female relations
and friends of the deceased.
I gave my Arabella the salts to smell to ; and, as she weakly
and bashfully advanced to the bar, a confused and jarring murmur
was held on all sides, and the words impudence and innocence
resounded throughout.
When, according to order, she had held up her hand and heard
her indictment, the judge, with a countenance and voice equally
stern, demanded guilty, or not guilty ? She answered, Guilty, my
lord, I confess, of the death of Lord Stivers ; but never guilty of
any kind of robbery or malice. Woman, said the judge, you confess
yourself guilty, and I shall proceed to your sentence. But I ask
you, for the last time, guilty or not guilty? Not guilty, my lord,
she then rejoined ; if to do what I approve, and shall never repent
of, is not to be guilty.
Again the murmur was repeated; but continued much longer,
and with more virulence on the one part, and more concern on the
other.
I shall not detain you, sir, with an account of the examination of
the two first witnesses, one of whom had been our own servant-
girl, and the other the principal footman of Lord Stivers. They
had all manner of encouragement and countenance from the court,
and concurred in every circumstance that could serve for condemna-
tion. The sound of triumph was heard through all the gentry, and
the populace sighingly gave my Arabella for lost.
The third witness was then called. He was a very genteel and
modest-looking young man, and was now out of livery.
My lord, says he, with a respectful but resolute voice, before I
give my testimony in this case, I request that the two first
witnesses should be taken into custody. Into custody ! cried the
3 ; do you know what you say ? I do know what I say, my
and I repeat my request, that they should be taken into
THE FOOL OF QUALITY. 103
custody. Why, friend, said the judge, they are as you are ; they
are witnesses for the crown against a criminal, and no man has a
right to order them into custody. I say, rejoined the youth, with
an air still more determined, that they are witnesses against inno-
cence, against his majesty, and against the laws ; that they alone
are criminal ; that I am evidence against them ; and I again
require it of your lordship, of the jury, and of all present, that they
should not be permitted to make their escape.
I see, exclaimed the judge, you are a prevaricating villain;
but I shall trounce you before we part. Where is this fellow's
examination ?
My lord, my lord, said the young man, with somewhat of a
severe and sarcastical tone, you were not placed there to prejudicate
in any matter, no more than I was called here to be browbeat and
sentenced without trial. If you find that I prevaricate if you
desire to sift me as wheat, and find any chaff in me I refuse not
the bitterest punishment that our laws can inflict. But your lord-
ship observes I am an evidence for the crown; and his majesty,
God be praised! will not fix his tribunal in any unrighteousness.
I therefore demand to be heard in the cause to which I am cited ;
and all present shall be assured that I speak nothing but the
truth. And you, gentlemen of the jury, I petition you to intercede
in favour of equity with his lordship, and to prevail that these
criminals, for such I affirm them to be, should not be suffered to
get away : and further, that they should be instantly searched,
and all that is found about them reserved for the inspection of
yourselves and his lordship.
My lord, said the foreman, I humbly conceive that no ill
consequence can ensue from searching and setting a watch over
those people; their testimony is already given, and cannot be
invalidated thereby.
Well, added the judge, I would willingly hear what this fellow,
this turncoat, has to say for himself.
My lord, replied the youth, provided I approve my truth before
God, I shall be the less afflicted for having fallen under your lord-
ship's displeasure. My name is Edward Longfield, I was born to
happier prospects. My father was a gentleman ; and about eighteen
months ago I took the degree of bachelor at Queen's College in
Oxford. But misfortunes and misunderstandings happening in our
family, I was left to be the former of my own fortunes, and, arriving
at London, I was taken into service by my late Lord Stivers. He
grew fond of me beyond my merits ; and I began to partake of his
friendship and confidence, at the time that I was deprived of the
most generous of masters by the most unhappy of all events.
He then deposed to his lord having communicated to him his
designs against Mrs. Clement, and that, upon his daring to remon-
strate with him on the illegality of his plans, Lord Stivers had
become angry, and threatened him with the loss of his favour for
ever. He then, continued Mr. Longfield, told me how he had
gained over her maid by a large bribe to his interest. I felt sad
and unwilling to participate in my lord's doings, but I was a de-
pendant on his bounty, and really attached to him from many of his
104 THE FOOL OF QUALITY.
very engaging qualities. We adjourned to Mrs. Clement's house on
some intimation from the confederate there : Lord Stivers went up-
stairs, while we followed the maid, Mrs. Deborah, to the kitchen.
I soon observed that my companion, Mr. Robert there, was intent
on making up his acquaintance with Mrs. Deborah ; and, as I found
myself extremely uneasy, I gave them the slip without being
observed, and, stealing up-stairs, I put my ear to the door where I
heard the voice of my master. Blessed heaven ! to what surpassing
sentiments was I then an amazed witness ! to what proofs of an
innocence of the most exalted nature ! If I should not be tedious I
would deliver to the court to you, my lord, in particular and to
you, gentlemen of the jury, the best account I can of those wonder-
ful passages.
Hear him hear him hear him ! was then almost the universal
cry, till he was permitted by the bench, and desired by the jury,
to speak with freedom.
He then repeated, in a more ample and pathetic manner, all that
passed, as I have told you, between Lord Stivers and my wife. But
stopping, as he drew near to the fatal catastrophe I could no
longer bear, he said, the piercing cries, the agonizing shrieks of one
in such extremity. Had I any kind of weapon I thought I should
have done my lord good service by preventing his wickedness. But
I trembled and grew exceeding sick, and hastening down to the
kitchen, I threw myself into a chair, and swooned away.
While I was in my fit, and Robert and Deborah were busy about
me, the fatal stroke, as I imagine, was given, and the prisoner made
her escape with her infant in her arms. When I was somewhat
recovered, and had taken a dram of Mrs. Deborah's bottle, she put
down the kettle, and invited us to a dish of tea. I requested my
companions, from tune to time, to step out and listen ; but they
reported that all was quiet above stairs.
At length it grew darkish, and being all of us surprised that no
candles were called for, we went in a body up-stairs, and Deborah
ventured gently to tap at the door; but hearing no voice nor
stirring in the chamber, she turned the bolt softly, and peeping in,
she gave a loud shriek, and drew suddenly back again. We then
entered together, and as I was prepared, by my knowledge of the
lady's virtue, for some dreadful catastrophe, I was the less shocked
and concerned at what I beheld.
The floor was half covered with blood. My master lay in
the midst, already stiif and cold; and part of the fatal scissors
was still within the wound. We all stood for some time in silent
astonishment; and then, with joint tears, lamented his fate. At
length, says Deborah, I would gladly see if my bloody mistress has
taken care to provide for her journey. So saying, she stooped, and,
taking his lordship's purse from his pocket, she counted down two
hundred and ninety-seven guineas. She then took out his fine
gold repeater, and next his gold snuff-box, and last, took his large
diamond ring from his finger.
Come, my lads, says Deborah, my lord's silence gives consent,
and we can no more be said to rob this piece of earth, than the
people in the mines who gather gold from clay. If my mistress is
THE FOOL OF QUALITY. 105
ever taken she must suffer death for the murder ; and they can do
no more to her for the robbery, and twenty such matters together,
if you will therefore be of my council, we will comfort ourselves
as we ought for this melancholy business; and share a prize
between us that no one else had a right to, and that nobody
will want.
Kobert did not hesitate long. In a little time he appeared more
sanguine than Deborah herself ; and they urged me to join them bj
a number of interesting and cajoling instances. I was dispirited
I was affrighted ; I saw a scene of blood and slaughter before me ;
and I doubted not that, if I refused them, I should be made the
second victim to their resentment and avarice. I pretended to
value the watch at an unmeasurable rate, and that I should be
greatly the gainer if I got it for my dividend. Mrs. Deborah then
went to her mistress's drawers, and taking out half a dozen silver
spoons, a tea-equipage, and several articles in lace and cambrics,
she fairly laid them before us ; and observed at the same time that
her mistress would not call in a hurry to demand them, and that
the landlord would take all if we did not come in for snacks. She
then made a new division ; she compelled me further to accept of
the snuff-box. She gave the purse of gold entire to Kobert, and
contented herself with the diamond ring, some gold medals, my
lord's handkerchief, and the plunder of her mistress.
While Mr. Longfield was in this part of his testimony, the fore-
man of the jury cried out Stay, sir ! Good people, pray stop those
witnesses there I see they are making off. And now do us the
favour to search their pockets, and to put what ye find into two
hats, severally, and to hand them up to us.
This being accordingly done, Mr. Longfield, says the foreman,
be pleased now to proceed.
I have little further to say, replied Mr. Longfield. Here is my
noble master's watch, and here is his snuff-box. They are un-
doubtedly known to many honourable persons at present in court ;
and I bless my God that I have been enabled to preserve them,
for the vindication of innocence, and the illustration of virtue, at
this day.
Here Mr. Longfield paused ; and the judge cried put Clerk,
hand me up the examination of this prevaricator. This his lord-
ship perused with a countenance and scrutiny apparently inveterate ;
but finding that the deponent had not touched upon the robbery,
and that neither the words feloniously nor of malice were inserted
in that part that referred to the death of Lord Stivers, he tore the
examination into twenty pieces. Come, come, he cried again, I have
not yet done with this same Longfield. I perceive perfectly well
how he came by the watch and snuff-box. The transference was
not difficult from the prisoner who stole them to this her con-
federate. But tell us, my wonderfully honest friend, how came
you to keep these things from their lawful owners for the very
long space of twelve months and upwards? Why did you not
immediately, or long before now, give informations against those
whom you so suddenly take it into your head to accuse ? And why
would you suffer that so exceeding chaste and innocent lady to
106 THE FOOL OF QUALITY.
labour, all this time, under the infamy with which her character,
in my judgment, is still justly loaded ?
To all these questions Mr. Longfield barely smiled ; but bowing
with his head, and making a motion with his hand to two gentlemen
who sat on one side of the bench, Mr. Archibald, an eminent
merchant and an alderman of the city, got up and spoke to the
following effect :
I wish, my lord, that I could as well content your lordship, as I
can satisfy the jury and all others present on the articles you
require. The day immediately succeeding this fatal accident,
Mr. Longfield came to me, and, in the presence of Mr. Truelove here,
my worthy and substantial neighbour, gave a detail, almost word
for word, of all that he has this hour deposed in court ; he then
deposited the watch and snuff-box with us, and did not reclaim
them till early this morning. As I am of his majesty's peace, he
also gave in this examination before me, which however I must not
venture to hand over to your lordship, till I have your previous
engagement that you will not tear it. I therefore offered to issue
warrants for apprehending the delinquents ; but Mr. Longfield
most sensibly and judiciously observed, that such a step must
unquestionably shut the door against justice and all knowledge of
the truth; that the criminals were two to one against their accuser;
that, on the slightest alarm, they would infallibly abscond or make
away with the effects, of which they now held themselves the peace-
able and unquestioned possessors, or contrive some further plot to
invalidate his evidence ; or, probably, make him away by pistol or
poison, and so deprive that unhappy gentlewoman of the only wit-
ness of her innocence. But, says he, if they are permitted to enter
the court under the confidence of my confederacy, they will have
no reserve upon them, no foreformed evasions or contrivances for
escape. My unexpected testimony will suddenly confound their
guilt, and they may happen to carry some articles about them which
might serve for their conviction beyond ten witnesses.
In the mean time, Mr. Longfield, Mr. Truelove, and I were
solicitous and unwearied in our inquiries after the unfortunate
prisoner, that we might persuade her to stand her trial, and to
deliver herself up to justice. But all our search proved fruitless
till the day on which she was discovered and taken.
Here Mr. Archibald ended, and the judge exclaimed Crier!
call the two first witnesses into court, that we may hear what they
say to this fair-weather speech. The crier accordingly vociferated
several Oyez's for Deborah Skinner and Robert Callan to come
into court. But, had they been within call, they did not choose to
hear. During the attention of the court and jury to alderman
Archibald, they had imperceptibly slipped behind their next
neighbours ; and proceeding in like manner from one to another,
they at length confounded themselves with the crowd, and got
clear off.
My lord then began to sum his charge to the jury, and dwelled
with much emphasis on some articles. Here, says he, we have
lost a nobleman a minister one of the first ornaments of our
country and stays of our land. And what, I pray ye, have we
THE FOOL OF QUALITY. 107
pot in recompense of this great damage? Why, my friends, we
have got a new thing upon the earth ; we have got a saving of the
honour of a milliner. But if this woman is inviolate, as still is
pretended, how came she to be guilty of this most horrid of all
murders, before she knew to what extremity his lordship would
have proceeded? How did she dare capitally to execute a peer
of the realm, on that for which our laws would not have confined
a common porter ? This woman must, certainly, have been a trader
in blood ; and her felonious intents and malice are fully expressed,
in the very peculiar use and inhumanity of the weapon with which
she perpetrated this most desperate deed. You need not therefore,
fntlemen, go out of your box to bring her in guilty of the murder,
will not affirm with equal certainty touching the robbery ; and
yet to me it is apparent, that she could not have enterprised so
barbarous a fact, if she had not done it in prospect of plundering
the deceased. But, as she is capitally punishable in the first
instance, I leave ye, gentlemen, to determine of the second at
pleasure. First permit us, my lord, replied the foreman, to examine
what we have got in these hats. He then drew a long purse from
among the relics of Kobert; and, having counted out seventy
guineas, Mr. Longfield, says he, would you know my lord's purse?
If it is my master's purse, said Longfield, it is of green silk, and
has, toward the top, a coronet and the letter S. wrought under it
in silver twist. The very same, sir, indeed, rejoined the foreman.
And now let us see what Mrs. Deborah might have got in her
honest keeping ? So saying, he took from the second hat a small
wooden box neatly stuffed with cotton, in which he found my lord's
diamond ring, three gold medals, and the ends of the handles of
several silver spoons. Mrs. Clement, says he, I imagine we may
have got some of your property among us. Pray had you any mark
to your silver spoons ? Yes, sir, said she, scarce audibly ; a G at
top for Graves, and a D and a A below for Dorothy and Arabella.
I wish, madam, replied this gentleman, that we were equally
enabled to find an equivalent for your merits, as to restore to you
this trifling remnant of your rights.
Come, gentlemen, cried the judge, the day wears apace. It is time
for you to retire, and consult on the verdict ye are to bring in.
My lord, answered the foreman, you truly observed that we need
not leave our box for the purpose you require. We are already
agreed and unanimous in our verdict. And I would to heaven
that we were not confined, on this occasion, to literal precedents
and forms of law, that we might give a verdict some way adequate
to the merits of the prisoner, who, however depressed by fortune,
is superior in all excellencies; whom we judge to be an honour
to human nature, and the first grace and ornament of her own sex.
But since we are limited by custom in these matters, we do say,
with one voice, and a conscience that compels us to utterance,
Not guilty, my lord not guilty !
The words were scarce pronounced when the court-house was
almost split by a sudden peal. Hats, caps, and wigs universally
filled the air, and jostled against each other. The triumph was
caught and echoed by the crowds without; and the sound was
108 TEE FOOL OF QUALITY.
repeated, and floated from street to street, till it seemed to die
away in distant parts of the city.
My wife then turned, gracefully curtsying to the foreman
I thank you, sir, says she ; I thank ye, gentlemen, says she, again
curtsying to the rest of the jury. And then, glancing modestly
round, she saluted the assembly, and sat down. But I could not
contain my gratitude, my transport overpowered me ; and falling
on my knees, and lifting my hands towards the jury God alone
can reward ye, gentlemen ! I cried. May he for ever preserve the
properties, honours, and families of the worthy citizens of London
from violation and insult !
I then rose hastily. I slipped out of the bar ; and rushing up to
Mr. Longfield, I catched him eagerly about the neck. I could not
speak. I hid my face in his bosom, and broke into tears. He
attempted to disengage himself; but I held him fast. 1 believe,
said he, you must be Mr. Clement. I congratulate you, sir, with
all my soul. But you owe me nothing ; I barely did my duty.
O, my friend my brother my preserver ! I cried ; I owe you
more than life. Existence had been my greatest of curses without
you. That I am not, at this moment, the deepest damned of the
creation ; that I find myself the most blessed of all beings ; to
you alone it is owing, my Longfield, my deliverer! Nay, hope
not to escape me ; we never more must part. You are my captive
for life. And I, and all that I am, or have, is yours to eternity.
As the people within and without were still in great commotion,
the court appeared much alarmed ; and the judge and most of
the gentry made homeward, through a private door that opened
into a back alley. But their fears were groundless ; for the crowd
was wholly intent on another object, and impatiently waited for a
sight of my Arabella.
As she walked forward, attended by Mr. Longfield and myself,
they made way for her on either hand, and the atmosphere again
rung with shouts and acclamations. So sincere is the respect that
the populace pay to virtue ; and such is their exultation when
innocence rises superior to oppression ! But when innocence and
virtue are accompanied by beauty, their reverence grows almost
criminal and approaches to adoration.
Thus we returned to Newgate, amidst the blessings, prayers,
and praises of a yielding multitude, who still respectfully opened
as Arabella advanced. The windows on all sides poured forth
congratulations ; and those through whom we had passed pressed
forward for another sight, as though their eyes could not be
satisfied with beholding.
Before we entered her late prison, my wife turned about and
curtsied three or four times to her numerous attendants, with an
acknowledging grace and humility that seemed oppressed by their
favours. She then entered hastily, and running tip-stairs, she
caught her child from the nurse-keeper. She held him some time
in her arms ; her bosom gently heaved ; and the tears rolled in
silence down her placid countenance. But on our approach, she
turned suddenly into the bed-chamber, shut to the door, and con-
tinued there in private for near an hour.
THE FOOL OF QUALITY. 109
In the mean time I sent out for a warm dinner and a bottle of
wine. Mr. Longfield now told me that he had often been tempted
to introduce himself to us during my wife's confinement; but
he feared that the discovery of any acquaintance or correspondence
between us might prejudice Arabella upon her trial; and that,
therefore, he had made use of the little stratagem of the verses,
which he had thrust under our door, in order to preserve us from a
total depression of spirits.
When the cloth was laid, I whispered gently through the key-
hole to my Arabella ; and soon after she came forth, with a har-
mony and beatitude of motion and aspect, as though she had
instantly dropped from that heaven which had wholly possessed
her during her absence.
At table, Mr. Longfield gave us some heads of his history. He
further told us, that since the death of his late lord he had en-
tered into another sendee ; but that he had been out of place for
about a month past.
After some further discourse, I called up the keeper, discharged
the reckoning and fees, and returned thanks for his civility to my
Arabella. I then sent for a coach, and we drove home together.
Mrs. Jennett received us with warm congratulations ; we imme-
diately invited her to a dish of tea, over which she agreed with
our friend for the streeirroom on the same floor at three shillings
per week. Arabella was now at liberty to revisit her old acquaint-
ance. She was more caressed than ever, and took in so much work
that she was obliged to hire a girl to attend to the child.
I was now at the very pinnacle of human happiness. Affliction
was no more. The remembrance of distress and poverty had
vanished as a dream. Our days moved up and down, and joy and
peace nightly prepared our pillows.
Mr. Longfield was very lovely in his person and manners. "We
had contracted a friendship which I imagined too strict for time to
untie ; and I loved him the better for his attention to my Arabella,
whose entertainment seemed to form the chief delight of his life.
T gave him my story in parts from time to time, and he had
plentifully watered the several passages with his tears. He intro-
duced me to Mr. Marfelt, his late master, to whom he had recom-
mended me as private tutor to his son ; and we agreed at fifty
pounds per annum, to commence as soon as the young gentleman
should descend from the nursery.
Mr. Longfield, as I told you, was very lovely in his person, and
he became daily more amiable and engaging in my eyes. I was
pleased that he appeared in the same light to my wife. I thought
that we could never love him enough ; and I daily importuned my
Arabella to affect him with a tenderness equal to my own.
At length I became uneasy, I knew not why nor wherefore.
When I could form a pretence for retiring or going abroad, I took
a solitary walk, or withdrew to some recess, where I lightened my
oppression by given a loose to my tears. Ah ! are not the real
evils of life sufficient ? Yet man adds to the heap by his tendency
to realize what is merely imaginary.
The source of my malady was now no longer a secret to me.
110 THE FOOL OF QUALITY.
Mr. Longfield, I cried to myself, my Arabella, my angel ! You are
still faithful, my Longfield ! You are still chaste, my Arabella!
But you are both of you too amiable ; you are fitted for each
other. Your friend loves you too well to be a bar to your happi-
ness. He will have no bliss but yours; your happiness shall be
his ; and he will die to accomplish it, since his life is an interrup-
tion. I was pleased that I daily declined ; but the affectation of
cheerfulness became painful to me. One night as we sat together,
my wife looked at me with an affectionate disturbance. What is
the matter, Hammy ? she cried ; what is come over my love ? You
look not, you speak not, like the once fond, the delighting and de-
lighted consort of your Arabella.
Ah ! I cried ; it is enough. I die, and I die contented, since I
leave the only two happy for whom I could wish to live. What is
this I hear, Hammy ? replied my Arabella ; you die, you say, and
you say also you die contented. Ah! you love me no longer.
What business have I then any longer to live, she would have
said, but she instantly swooned away.
At length she opened her eyes, and looking about with a languid
kind of displeasure Mr. Longfield, says she, your services have been
reat ; but at present I am not under any necessity for your assist-
ance, whereupon he silently bowed and withdrew to his apartment.
I then dropped on my knees before her. My Arabella, I cried,
loveliest of womankind ! But here, with a forbidding hand, and a
countenance averted No, Hammy, no, says she (in a voice inter-
rupted by tears), after what has passed your lips I cannot be
deceived, and I will not be comforted. You would leave me, you
say, Hammy ; and would you leave me forlorn ? But I will not be
forsaken. I will prevent your unkindness. I will go where I shall
not be altogether friendless. Ah, my aunt ! my all relations in one
why did you abandon me ?
Here her words were suffocated by sobs and a burst of affliction.
But still continuing my posture I am guilty, my love, I cried ;
I am guilty past pardon. But I will live if you desire it, my
Arabella ; will live to repent my follies, and to repair my defaults.
But I cannot a minute longer survive your displeasure. She then
beckoned me to rise and sit beside her, which I did ; when, reach-
ing one arm about my neck, and gently leaning over, she joined her
face to mine, and silently shed her tears into my bosom.
Soon after I perceived that she was seized with a kind of shiver-
ing, and, calling to the girl, I ordered her in all haste to warm the
bed, and I assisted my wife to undress.
As soon as she lay down and was somewhat composed, I stepped
to my friend's apartment. I found him leaning on a table with his
eyes downcast, like the figure of discomfort stooping over a monu-
ment. What is the matter ? I said ; what ails my dear Longfield ?
I hope I have not offended him past forgiveness. Indeed I am
not well, says he. I beseech you to leave me to my own thoughts
till morning. I understand you, Mr. Longfield, I cried ; I confess
myself no longer worthy of your friendship, and I shall no more
demand it of you till you condescend to make the tender ; and, so
saying, I suddenly quitted his chamber.
THE FOOL OF QUALITY. Ill
All night my Arabella was cold and hot by turns, and her sleep
was discomposed by starts and meanings. In the morning I
observed that her breath was short and feverish, and I got up in
haste and went for a physician. As soon as he had written his
prescription, I went eagerly to wish Mr. Longfield a good-morning,
and to apologize for the abruptness of last night's behaviour ; but
Mr. Longfield had taken a long adieu, and this letter was all
that I had left to console me for his loss :
" To MB. H. CLEMENT.
"I leave you, dearest of friends, and I leave you for ever.
Wretch that I am ! to have brought affliction on the only two for
whom I would have lived, for whom I would have died. Heavens,
what a fate is mine ! I voluntarily depart, and I go where I must
be miserable, since I leave those whose sight and converse made
the whole of my enjoyment. That which doubles my unhappiness
is, partly to suspect that I have been guilty.
" Your Arabella, my Hammy ! I begin to fear that I loved your
Arabella. Alas ! I feel that I still love her, and that I must love
her during life.
"Ah, fond and foolish passion! that could neither hope, nor
wish, nor even accept of any kind of gratification, save the sight
and society of the object of its ardour. No, most amiable of
men, were it possible for your Arabella to stray but in thought
from her truth, from her duty, from her tenderness for you, I could
have loved her no longer.
" I am jealous for you, my friend I am jealous of myself in your
dearer behalf ; and I will amply avenge you on the injurious and
hapless Longfield.
"Ah! let no man henceforth confide in his own strength. I
daily beheld your Arabella ; I daily conversed with, but I saw not
my danger. The gracefulness of her motions, the sound of her
voice, and the loveliness of her aspect, hourly sunk into my soul
with an intoxicating delight ; and I wished, and was solicitous to
become pleasing in her eyes, at the time that I would have taken
the life of any man who had attempted to deprive you of your full
right in her affections.
" My confession reaches the utmost of my faults ; but from what
a dream of delight has it suddenly awaked me ! Enchanting sen-
sations ! you are departed for ever ; and all the future portion that
you leave me is bitterness.
" P.S. In the drawer of my table, on the left hand, you will find
another paper, carefully sealed and addressed to you. It contains
a poor legacy, though all that could be bequeathed by your de-
parted
"EDWAKD LONGFIELD."
I wept as I read this pathetic epistle. My breast heaved, and I
was agitated by emotions of self-reproach, and with a tide of re-
turning tenderness to poor Longfield.
Ah, unjust though most generous of men ! I exclaimed, I alone
am guilty, and thou assumest to thyself a burden that thy virtues
112 THE FOOL OF QUALITY.
disclaim. Would to heaven that men and angels might love my
Arabella with a purity like thine.
I found seventeen guineas in the fore-mentioned paper, a most
seasonable, and yet a most unacceptable supply, as I feared, from
the generosity of Longfield's temper, that it contained very nearly
the whole of his possessions.
My wife's distemper turned out a tertian ague ; and at length
settled into a certain rheumatism, that principally affected her arms
and hands, and thereby prevented her earning any subsistence for
herself or her infant.
It was now upwards of four months since Mr. Longfield had left
us. Our finances were again reduced to about two guineas. I was,
however, confident of a supply in the tutorship promised me by
Mr. Marfelt ; and I dressed in the best I could, and waited upon
him. I was concerned to find the family in black. But when
Mr. Marfelt himself appeared, and told me, with a voice interrupted
with sighs, that his only son, my pupil in expectance, had been
lately carried off by a malignant smallpox, my mourning passed all
shows of sorrow.
I took my leave with a dejection and absence of mind that forgot
there was any road left for me upon earth. I went, I knew not
where, a way that led from home. I saw nothing but the labyrinth
within my own soul ; and from thence I could perceive neither
outlet nor escape.
My eyes at last were opened, and I perceived that I was now
much further from my lodgings than when I set out from Mr.
Marfelt's. I turned homeward as well as I could, fatigued in body,
and with more than a mountain's weight upon my mind. On the
way, 1 lifted up my eyes and rung my hands together in a kind of
agony. Bread ! Bread ! I cried inwardly. Merciful heaven, a
little, but a very little bread ! My helpless wife ! my helpless in-
fant ! a little pittance for them ; I crave it in mercy ! and. O save
me from beholding them famished, and gasping for a morsel of
sustenance before my face !
As soon as I had crawled home, another weight was added to the
burden I already bore. A bailiff was in waiting, and my landlady,
with an aspect as inexorable as iron, ordered me directly into
custody for the last quarter's rent. I was on this occasion obliged
to disburse my last two guineas, and further to deposit my wife's
gown as a security for the small remainder of rent and fees. I had
not now wherewithal to purchase a pennyworth of bread, that, like
the widow of Sarepta, my wife, my child, and I for this last time
might sit down together and eat before we died.
I pretended to have forgotten somewhat, and again hastened out
of doors. The night had just fallen, and was still and gloomy.
Rage, anguish, and despair gave me new strength and spirits ; and
I turned fiercely down an unfrequented street, without any arms
save my fury and natural fangs, with which I determined, like the
maternal lioness, to rend subsistence for my young from the first
I should encounter.
I perceived a man advancing at some distance. I hastened to
meet him ; and, coming within a few paces Stand ! I cried ; pass
THE FOOL OF QUALITY. 113
no further! Why, said he, with a fearless and benevolent voice,
is there any thing wherein you desire I should serve you ? O save
me! I replied; you must, you shall save me from the terrible
damnation of seeing my wife and infant perish before me. God,
said he, sends you this by my hands. He sees your distress, but
disapproves your conduct. But, Clement, beware the third time ;
another offence like this would prove fatal to you.
He spoke, and putting five guineas into my hand he instantly
slipped away ; for such was my sudden astonishment and confusion
that I neither remarked nor saw what became of him. At length
I awaked as from a trance. I stepped up to a single lamp that
glimmered before me, and opening my hand I perceived that the
money which I held was gold. I hurried it into my pocket, and
turning back I began slow and pensive to move toward home.
Ah ! I cried ; I am then known. The darkness of the night hath
not been able to conceal me. My guilt is laid open before God and
his angels ; and my present and past transgressions are entered into
his book. He yet pities, he yet relieves me. He snatches me from
the gulf wherein I had already plunged and saw no bottom; to
show me that no extremity can pass his power, and that on this
side of existence it is always too early to despair of his bounty.
As soon as I got to my lodgings, I redeemed my wife's gown, and
sent out for a frugal supper. I then stepped up-stairs, and, taking
a chair just opposite to my wife, I sat down and continued silent,
but dared not to look up. She eyed me through and through. My
Hammy, says she, you are apt to meet with strange adventures.
I know you not for the same person ; you are not what you were
a few minutes ago. I found myself under the necessity of avowing
to her all that had happened. But, gracious heaven ! through time
and through eternity never shall I forget the reply she made.
Hammy, says she, with the face, air, and accent of heaven's
mildest minister, it ill becomes me to reprove a respected husband
for the excess of his goodness to me and my child : and yet I have
suffered more from the consideration of this excess, than from all
our other calamities put together. I love you entirely, my Hammy ;
but I love that part of you the most which you appear to regard
the least. It is a part that must survive the dissolution of all the
rest their short joys, their idle anxieties, their fierce desires, and
empty possessions and it must thereafter be yourself to all eternity.
I once thought, my love, that learning was the principal promoter
of piety. But I have long since discovered that to know is not to
feel, and that argument and inclination are often as opposite as
adversaries that refuse all means of reconcilement.
I will suppose you, for instance, in the depth of your knowledge,
the wisest discoverer of the attributes of infinity. But what will
this do for you, my Hammy? You may contemplate these great
objects as matters with which you are no way connected.
God, with all his omnipotence, can no otherwise make us happy
than by connecting himself with us; and this connection can no
way be formed but by our dependence upon him. And this de-
pendence can no way be made but by our confidence in him ; by
feeling that in ourselves, or the world around us, there is neither
I
H4 THE FOOL OF QUALITY.
footing nor hold to save us from sinking for ever ; and by catching
at God alone for the support of that existence which his bounty
bestowed.
It is this confidence, my dear husband, that is called by the name
of FAITH ; of which we ought to have such a portion at least as
might enable us to say to the worst that can befall, what the three
Jewish captives said to the king of Babylon, " Our God is able to
deliver us," and he will in due time deliver us from all these
afflictions. But, though he should not deliver us, we will not forsake
our confidence in him, neither bow to any temptation that guilt
can set up.
Since God, therefore, cannot communicate happiness to one who
refuses to trust in his goodness, or to repose upon his power ; where
he is peculiarly favourable, he blesses him with all sorts of crosses
and disappointments. He breaks under him all the props of worldly
confidence. He snatches trom him the helps on which his hopes
had laid hold; that in the instant of sinking he may catch at
his Creator, and throw himself on the bosom of that infinite
benevolence.
I am your loving wife, my husband, and this is your dear and
promising infant. But, what are we further to you ? You neither
made us, nor can you preserve us ; nor are you obliged to provide
for us beyond your weak and finite endeavours. Commit us, then,
to Him in whom we have our existence ; and know that should he
permit this innocent to suffer, and my confidence in his mercy to
fail of support, the retribution is instantly and infinitely in his
hands.
Here ended my Arabella ; but the sweetness of her voice con-
tinued to vibrate in my ear.
She laid hold of the season for making the impression she desired,
as my mind was still affected and softened by the late adventure.
I did not, indeed, yet behold the world or its Author in the light
by which they are represented in the Christian system ; but, even
in the eye of philosophy, all that my wife had said appeared
reasonable, and conformable to the nature of a Being infinitely
powerful, benevolent, and wise.
In these sentiments I eagerly applied for further instruction to
those writings that had brought life and immortality to light.
I began at the creation, and proceeded with the deepest attention
and delight. Another system of matter and morals, another world,
and another God, presented themselves before me. But I shall not
here detain you with an account of my new faith, as I may justly
call it; for though I always had held myself, vulgarly speaking,
a Christian, I found on examination that I had been wholly a
stranger to the necessity, as well as the beauty, of the Christian
dispensation; neither had I felt a single ray of its comforting
influence.
My wife began now to recover of her rheumatism, and hoped soon
to be able to take in work. I determined, however, to be before-
hand with her, if possible ; for at this time I regarded not how
mean my occupation would be, provided I might earn any kind
of honest bread.
THE FOOL OF QUALITY. 115
Accordingly, as I rambled in search of employment, I observed
a porter attending before the door of a tavern, clad in an ordinary
frock, with a belt about his waist, and an apron before him. I
thereupon went to Monmouth-street, and purchased an uniform for
the like purpose. I then passed through several streets, till I came
to a splendid tavern where no porter was in waiting. ^ I stepped
over the way, where I deposited my former coat with a poor
huckster-woman, to whom I promised some small matter for the
trouble I gave her. I then dressed in my porterly robes, and, ap-
plying to the chief drawer, I promised him part of my earnings
provided he put me in speedy employment.
I had not stayed long till I was despatched to a considerable
distance with a letter. I was afterwards sent on a variety of
errands and messages ; and by the close of the day I had accumu-
lated three shillings, sixpence whereof I gave to the drawer. 1 then
stepped in high triumph to my friend the huckster-woman. I gave
her twopence, reassumed my former garb, and left my weeds in her
custody. I returned home with a satisfaction to which I had been
a stranger for a long time ; and I that night ate heartily, talked
cheerfully, and slept in peace.
I continued this occupation during five successive days, in one of
which I earned to the amount of five shillings. I was now engaged
in one of the lowest, and least lucrative, employments of life ; but
a Divine friend was at hand, of whose favour I was confident. I
was content ; I was cheerful ; and I felt a peace within that passed
all the understanding I should otherwise have had of happiness,
though I had been in possession of the crown revenues.
Late on the fifth night of my occupation, as I was on my return,
and within a few doors of my lodging, I was seized and assaulted by
four men, who were porters, as I found by the sequel. I struggled
the best I could, and got one of them under me ; but the rest fell
upon me, and kicked, cuffed, and bruised me in a miserable manner.
Oh ! they cried you are a gentleman ! and yet, thief as you are,
you must steal into our business, and glean away the few pence by
which we get our daily bread ; but we will cure you for carrying of
burdens, we warrant you.
They would undoubtedly have murdered me had I not feigned
myself already dead ; but, observing that I lay without any signs of
life, they made off in haste.
I rose as well as I was able, and, holding by the rails and wall,
got with difficulty home, where, crawling up-stairs, my wife helped
to undress me, and I went to bed.
She then sent for our old physician, who ordered me some
potions, with outward fomentations to assuage the contusions. I
was however seized that night with a violent fever, which continued
upwards of three weeks, but without any delirium ; and within
another week I was able to sit up, though still very weak and
greatly emaciated.
The last of our stock, with the fruits of my late employment,
were now nearly expended on doctor, drugs, and so forth. Where-
fore I found it necessary to abridge our domestic charge as close
as possible ; and having sent our girl with a token for my porter's
12
116 TEE FOOL OF QUALITY.
habiliments, I gave them to her in lieu of what remained of her
wages, and with the help of an additional shilling discharged her.
I was now able to bear the light, and the windows were half
opened ; but how was I shocked on observing that my Arabella
and my little Tommy were as pale and as much fallen away as
myself! For Arabella had half-starved her infant, and almost
wholly starved herself, in order to save sufficient for my sustenance
during my illness ; yet she bore up with a sweet and smiling sem-
blance, and in her alone was realized all that ever I have seen of the
boasted patience of stoicism, or of the power of Christianity in
effecting a new nature.
Within a little time I was once more able to walk about the
room ; when, on the day preceding that wherein our quarter's rent
was to become due, Mrs. Jennett entered w r ith a face wherein was
prefaced whatever insolence, hardness of heart, or contempt of our
wretched situation could dictate. Mr. Clement, says she, if so be
your name be Clement, I suppose I am not to tell you that to-
morrow is quarter-day. And yet, if some people, Mr. Clement,
can't afford to eat, I can't see how they can afford to pay rent, Mr.
Clement ; and so, you know, 'tis every bit as comfortable to starve
in jail as in lodgings. But this is nothing to the purpose. I am
myself but a poor woman, and no better than richer folks. Yet,
poor as I am, comparisons may be odious between some people and
some people ; and then I don't come for charity, I come for nothing
but my own, and that, you know, is the least that will satisfy any
body. If you had any one else to befriend you but myself, you
might a' been put up on the parish before this. But, as I was
saying, I can't be an only friend and all friends at once. And I must
tell you that I hate objects ; for I have so much pity in my nature
that it pains me to look at 'em ; and, above all, I can't abide 'em
in my own house. And so, as I told you, Mr. Constable will be
here in the morning, and he will show you to lodgings that will fit
you much better ; and so, Mr. Clement and Mrs. Clement, if so be
that your names be Clement, I wish you both a mighty good-
morning. And so away she went without waiting an answer.
As soon as she was gone Hammy, says Arabella, our kind land-
lady puts me in mind of the wife of honest Socrates, whom he took
for the trial and exercise of his patience. Ah, how cringing was
this woman ! how insolent is servility when it attains any power !
But what, I wonder, is become of our friends the Miss Hodginses?
I would have sent to inquire after them, but I was petted at their
neglect of us during our long illness. I will step there this minute,
and borrow as much, at least, as will snatch my Hammy from the
fangs of this fury.
So saying, weak as she was, she dressed herself with a cheerful
air, and going, pleasantly repeated Your servant, Mr. Clement, if
so be that your name be Clement, I wish you a mighty good-
morning.
She was not long abroad, and on her return I observed a
kind of heavenly radiance that seemed to beam throughout
her countenance, from whence I prophesied all manner of happy
success. But continuing silent for some time, and looking eagerly
THE FOOL OF QUALITY. 117
at me, she suddenly threw herself into my bosom, and burst into
tears.
Ah, Hammy ! she cried, I had hopes I was very stout ; but
frail nature, in spite of grace, confesses me a coward. I thought
I could have seen you perish with patience, with delight, provided
I saw a happy immortality before you. But now that your suf-
ferings are at hand. I find them insupportable. I tremble also for
your faith, lest it should not support you under the impending trial.
Yes, Hammy, all is over. All is finished, my love, and the hand of
our God is in it. Our dear Miss Hodginses were not to blame ; the
eldest died suddenly since we saw them, and the youngest is with a
distant relation in the country. We have nothing further to hope,
neither to fear, from this world. Our God has shut us out by every
door; and will neither permit the friendship, the humanity, or
charity of others, neither our own industry or ingenuity, to yield us
a morsel of bread ; to convince us that we are his, and that all
things are his ; that when he openeth his hand there is plenty on
every side, but when he pleaseth to shut there is no resource. What
say you, then, my husband ? Are you willing to run this last short
course ? The prize is glorious, unspeakable, and lies within a very
few paces of your grasp. You must run it, my husband, and your
repugnance would but serve to make it insufferable. But patience
and courage would give you strength to endure ; and a little further
conformity to the will of our Disposer would turn all the bitterness
into delight. Our time is done, our task is finished ; we are already
brought to nothing, that our all may be in God.
Yes, I answered, it is evident from a chain of successive proofs.
I see the hand of God in all that concerns us ; and I am pleased
with any instances of his notice and attention, whatever his final
purpose may be. I will no longer struggle with his omnipotence ;
nor make my ignorance a sounding line for his unbottomed wisdom.
If to see you and our little innocent thus famishing by the hour ; if,
in contemplating your wants and imagining your pains, I feel an
anguish above what death can give ; why, let it be ; rend, heart,
into a thousand pieces ! A period must at length be put to our
sufferings: and all beyond shall be peace, or what God pleases. But
do you, Arabella, do you lead the way, my patroness, my director !
I will endeavour to keep the brightness of your example in view ;
that neither here, nor hereafter, I may lose sight of her, without
whom, here or hereafter, I think I cannot be happy.
About nine the next morning our landlady entered, followed by
two constables and two appraisers. Thus authorized, as she ima-
gined, the first thing she did was to search our pockets for money,
but without effect ; as we had expended our last penny the day
before for bread. She, however, found my wife's case of scissors,
and other implements for her business ; and gathering up our boxes,
linen, handkerchiefs, and a variety of articles which we never had a
notion of converting into money, she laid them all before the
appraisers ; who, on frequent consultation, valued the same to four
pounds nine shillings, my wife's gown included, being nine-and-
thirty shillings more than we owed. But this, our honest landlady
very prudently observed, was scarce sufficient for costs and other
118 THE FOOL OF QUALITY.
damages which she had suffered, or might have suffered, or might
yet suffer on our accounts.
Thus we were turned out, almost naked, to the mercy of the
elements. O, how deeply degraded below the birds of the air, the
beasts of the forest, or even the worms of the sod, who rightfully
claim sustenance from the earth whereof they were bred, and have
some hole apart whereto they may creep for shelter !
The world, indeed, lay before us. It was wide and all-sufficient ;
and yet nothing to our purpose. We had neither art nor part,
concern or interest, therein. It was to us as a harbour to tempest-
beaten mariners, who are shut out and driven thence on suspicion
of the plague.
All hopeless, weak, and faint, we took our way, we knew not
whither ; without home whereto we might travel, or point whereto
we might steer. We could think of no one living who would
receive or acknowledge us ; and we seemed to have no way save that
of hastening as fast as we could from the presence of mankind.
Slow and tottering as we went, my wife and I carried our little
Tommy by turns ; and in the smoother places he walked with the
help of our hands. Thus, with much toil and fatigue, we got out
of London, and reposed ourselves on a bank that lay a little off the
causeway. Here we found ourselves greatly distressed with thirst ;
and, getting up again, we made towards a small hut that stood
beside the road, where they had the charity to treat us with a
draught of cold water. With this we were wonderfully refreshed
and recruited ; and, putting on again Hammy, says my Arabella,
no conqueror on his triumphal entry into Eome ever exulted as I
do in your fortitude this day. And what signifies it now that it
comes to the test? It is but to travel, my love, till we can travel
no further ; and then we drop, fit and ready, and ripe for eternity.
O how sweet it is to perish with a patience that is pleased ; how
fearful, how horrible, to die struggling and kicking against the
Almighty !
As we went gently along, still mutually supporting and exhorting
each other, I applied for alms from time to time to a number of
passengers ; but my voice and address were so feebly importunate,
or their attention was so engaged on distant and different matters,
that my oratory returned as empty as it set out.
At length I met a poor beggar-man, with a wife and seven
children following in a train. I looked at him wistfully, and, having
civilly saluted him, I entreated some little matter from his bag or
his can, to keep my infant from perishing on the highway. God's
mercy, master ! said the charitable mendicant, I am very sorry to
see any body poorer than myself; but the truth is, that I have
travelled a great way, and have eat and drank all except this last
twopence-halfpenny. Here it is, master ; God's blessing go along
with it ! I grieve, and shall grieve, that it is not two pounds for
your sake.
In expectation of the refreshment we should derive from this
supply, we kept on at a creeping pace till we came to a little ale-
house that stands about half a mile from this town. There we en-
tered, and called for a pennyworth of bread and a pint of drink,
THE FOOL OF QUALITY. 119
with some milk for the child. While we sat to repose ourselves,
the poor man of the house having eyed me with a kind of earnest
compassion You look, said he, to be in much trouble ; but if your
trouble is of a kind that may be cured, there is one Mr. Fenton at
hand, whom God nas placed in this country, as the sun in heaven,
to give comfort to all within his reach.
My heart revived within me at these tidings, and was further
prophetic of some happy revolution. Having finished our pint, and
laid up the remainder of our bread in store, we discharged our
reckoning, and set out on our last stage.
The prospect of speedy relief, and the possibility that it might
not arrive too late, gave us spirits beyond our powers, and we
pushed on till we came nearly opposite to this house, though we
did not then know to whom it belonged. Here, slackening our
pace, we found ourselves growing extremely sick ; whether it was
that we were overpowered by the late nourishment we had taken,
or by a toil and fatigue that surpassed our abilities.
Hammy, said my Arabella, God be praised ! it is done ; it is
finished. I die, my Hammy ; but I would not die within the gaze
of public passengers. Help me into the field, if you are able, my
love ! I have no further use for charity now, save that of laying
my limbs with decency in the ground.
She spoke nor had I the power to answer. But, overcome as
I was by sickness and anguish, I exerted myself to help her
through the turnstile ; and, sitting down on the sod, I laid her
head in my lap, where she fainted away. And there we remained
in the situation in which your charity found us.
Friend. Your story of Clement, my friend, is truly interesting,
and in some passages may be edifying also. I have only to observe
that it is too long for an episode, and that the character of your
heroine-milliner is constrained and unnatural ; it is elevated above
the fortitude and virtues of man himself, but quite out of the sight
and soaring of any of her weak and silly sex. Had she been a
princess an empress she could not have figured in your his-
tory with greater dignity.
Author. There lay my error, sir ; unhappily I did not reflect,
that royalty or station was necessary to Christian resignation and
lowliness of temper.
Friend. Your drollery is more provoking than argumentative, I
must tell you, sir. I was not speaking of the lowliness, but of the
fortitude of your Arabella ; indeed it exceeds every thing that I
have met in romance. Such an exaltation of female character is
of evil influence among the sex : each woman will be apt to arro-
gate some of the merit to herself; their vanity will be inflated,
and they will rise, on the stilts of Arabella, to a presumptuous
level with their natural lords and masters. Women unquestionably
have their becoming qualities : in the bed-chamber, kitchen, and
nursery, they are useful to man; but beyond these, my friend,
they are quite out of the element of nature and common-sense.
Author. I have sadly mistaken this whole affair, it seems ; I
actually apprehended that woman might be admitted as a com-
120 THE FOOL OF QUALITY.
panion to man, and was intended occasionally to soften his temper
and polish his manners. They have at times formed governors,
legislators, and heroes. The great Pericles derived all the powers
of his oratory, and the elegance of his taste, from the example and
instructions of the lovely Aspasia; and the Gracchi also canght
the spirit of their eloquence, and the fire of their patriotism,
from their mother Cornelia.
Friend. Pshaw ! the women you have mentioned were but as
single luminaries, perhaps one in many centuries, who shot away
and shone out of their appointed spheres.
Author. Mayhap I can produce still better authority to prove to
you, my friend, that woman was not merely intended to form and
instruct us, to soften, and polish the rudeness of our mass ; she
was also appointed to native empire and dominion over man.
Friend. By all means, my dear sir ; I am quite impatient to be
instructed in the policies and constitution of this your petticoat-
government.
Author. Whenever you shall be pleased to turn over to the
third chapter of the first book of the prophet Esdras, you will
there find it written to the following purpose :
In the reign of Darius Hystaspes, successor to the grand Cyrus
(whom you may have read of in romance), Darius made a great
feast to all his princes and nobles, chief captains and governors of
his hundred and twenty-seven provinces.
And at the feast, three young and princely geniuses arose, and
offered to dispute for pre-eminence before the great assembly.
And the question turned on, What was STRONGEST? And the
first said, WINE is strongest ; and the second said, the KING is
strongest ; and the third said, WOMAN is strongest : and then the
advocate for the bottle thus began :
O ye princes ! bear me testimony that wine gives and takes
away according to its mightiness. It takes away the strength and
capacities of nature ; and gives powers, virtues, and talents of its
own acquiring.
It trips up the wrestler, and lays a giant low ; and bears the
feeble and the fearful into the midst of the battle.
Wine is an opener of hearts and a revealer of secrets. It raises
hopes into certainty, and gives jollity and enjoyment in exchange
for care.
It unfolds the purse of the usurer and enriches the needy ; and
frees the prisoner from his chain and the debtor from his obligation.
It levels the rich and the poor, the high and the low, the king
and the clown, to one temper and condition. It can set com-
panions, friends, and brothers at variance ; and cause rivals, com-
petitors, and enemies to embrace.
Wine enlarges the narrow heart and thaws the frozen under-
standing: it instructs the ignorant in arts, and to the silent and
illiterate gives phrase and elocution.
It can elevate the peasant from a cottage to a throne; for he
who is drunk is as great as an emperor.
O ye princes ! what in nature can be stronger than that by which
all the powers of nature are inverted or surpassed ?
THE FOOL OF QUALITY. 121
And having so spoken, lie held his peace.
Then arose the advocate for kingly dominion, and, waving his
hand, thus addressed the assembly :
O princes ! how short and sickly is the influence of wine ! it
passes away as a vapour at the dawning; we recollect it with
disgust, or remember nothing thereof. But all power that is
stable or durable subsists in majesty.
The king is but one man among a hundred and twenty-seven
nations of men ; yet he overseeth, connects, and governs the
whole. His are the honours, counsels, and strength of all his
people.
The sun, who from on high looketh down on the wide world,
beholdeth not at once the extent of our king's dominion. He
must travel for the prospect through the blue expanse of heaven,
and leave the western nations, involved in night, when his beam
begins to rise on their fellow-subjects in the orient.
For the king they plough, they sow, and they reap and plant
vineyards. For him the stars shine and shed influences upon earth,
and the seasons change to yield our monarch variety of pro-
duction. For him the fruits ripen, the shrubs drop their balm,
and the blossoms breathe their odours; all winds blow incense
to him ; and the four quarters of the world pay him tribute day
by day.
If he bids to build, they build ; and if he bids to lay waste,
the nations are made desolate. Bliss and bane, life and death,
ruin and restoration, are in the breath of his lips.
If he cries War ! it is war ; the banners of blood are let loose
to the wind, and the sound of the clarion kindles all men to battle.
His hosts clothe themselves in harness, and range in terrible array ;
and his horses begin to neigh and tear up the ground, and his
chariots to roll as distant thunders. They move and cover the
earth wide as the eye can reach. The forests are laid flat, the
mountains shake beneath them, and neither the rocks nor rivers
impede the march of his armies. They trample into dust the fruits
of the field, and the labours of the industrious ; houses, vineyards,
and standing corn: the villages and towns smoke and flame on
every side.
Yet none ask the king, Wherefore is peace, or wherefore is war ?
for he stands exalted in ruin, and is glorified in destruction ; his
word is the bolt of irresistible power, and his will makes the
appointment and sanctitude of law.
And having so said, he sat down amid the applauses of the
whole assembly.
Lastly, slow and bashful, arose the young advocate for the FAIR ;
and, bowing thrice around, he let his words go forth as the breath-
ing of soft music :
Great, O princes ! great is the strength of WINE, and much
greater is the strength and glory of MAJESTY. But yet there
is a power that tempers and moderates, to which rulers themselves
pay delightful obedience.
Man is as the rough and crude element of earth, unmollified by
the fluidity of water and light. Heaven therefore sent WOMAN
122 TEE FOOL OF QUALITY.
gentle, bright, and beauteous woman to soothe, form, and illumine
the rudeness of his mass.
She comes upon man in the meekness of water, and in the
brightness of the morning beam; she imperceptibly infuses love
and delight into him, and bids his affections go forth upon kindred
and country.
The planter who planted the vineyard, and the vintner who
pressed the grape, were born of woman; and by woman alone
the subject and the sovereign receive existence, with all that can
make existence advantageous or desirable.
She brings man forth in his weakness, and she brings him up
to his strength ; he is fostered in her bosom, he is nourished with
her substance, and he imbibes into his being the sweetness of
humanity with the milk of his mother.
Without woman, where would be father, or where would be
child? where the relations, endearments, and connections of kin-
dred, the charities that bind the wide world together into one
inclusive family, the great BEOTHEEHOOD OF MAN?
She conies not against you in the hostility of weapons, or fearful-
ness of power. She comes in the comfort and mild light of beauty;
she looks abashed, and takes you captive ; she trembles, and you
obey. Yet hers is the surest of all signiories on earth; for her
dominion is sweet, and our subjection is voluntary, and a freedom
from her yoke is what no man could bear.
There are no forms of human government that can exempt us
from her sway ; no system of laws that can exclude her authority.
Do we not study, toil, and sweat, and go forth in the darkness, and
put our face to every danger, to win and bring home treasure and
ornaments to our love? Even the robbers and savage spoilers of
mankind grow tame to the civilizing prerogative of beauty.
If men seek peace, it is to live in kindly society with woman ;
and, if they seek war, it is to please her with the report and renown
of their valour.
Even the highest and mightiest the lord of lords and king of
kings is caught in the fascinating net of his Apame. I saw her
seated by his side ; she took the crown from his head, and gave it
new lustre by the beauty of her brow and the brightness of her
tresses. I saw her chide him in her playfulness, and strike him
in her petulance, yet he pressed the hand of her pleasing pre-
sumption to his lips ; he gazed fondly and fixedly on her : if she
laughed, he laughed also; but if she affected displeasure, he
spoke and looked submission, and was fain to plead and sue for
reconcilement.
Here ended the blooming orator. The monarch rose from his
throne and gave loud applause, and the roofs resounded with the
shouts and acclamations of the assembly.
^ Wherefore it was decreed, by the laws of the " Medes and Per-
sians," that female beauty ought to govern the world in meekness,
and that men owed thereunto a voluntary obedience.
Friend. Pray, my good sir, this same Esdras, is it among the
canonical books?
TEE FOOL OF QUALIFY. 123
Author. I cannot affirm that it is ; but it is held as authentic, and
very sacred, I assure you.
Friend. It is a pity that your system of female government
should be apocryphal; but, since you have not proved their do-
minion to be jure divino, permit me to retain my faith, and to go
on with my story.
CHAPTER IX.
ME. CLEMENT, said Mr. Fenton, I am singularly obliged and
instructed by your story. The incidents of your life have been very
extraordinary, and have been evidently accompanied by the atten-
tion and control of a peculiar providence. The same providence is
undoubtedly with, and over all, his works ; though we are not
willing to admit him in what we call common occurrences, and
which, we think, we can account for without his interposition. But
in the passages of your story we see Omnipotence walking along
with you, step for step; by sudden successes, by calamities as
sudden, compelling you to attend to him; wrenching every other
prop and support from your dependence; shutting every other
prospect and resource from your sight; and never forsaking you,
in weal or in woe, till he had fully convinced you of his fellowship
and regard, and had reconciled you to the bitterest of the dispensa-
tions of your Creator.
Your story, my dear friend, has been generally conversant in
middle or low life ; and I observed that there is scarce a circum-
stance in it which might not have happened to any body on any day
of the year. And yet, on the whole, I find a chain of more sur-
prising and affecting events than I ever met with in history, or
even romance.
God, I see, has made use of very severe methods to call you, and,
as I may say, to compel you to come in. But do you think, Mr.
Clement, that any methods less severe would have been equally
effectual ? You must admit they would not. And this demonstrates
to me the difficulty, and almost the impossibility, of diverting any
man from that habit of thinking and acting which he contracts from
the people with whom he is daily conversant. In a world of saints,
a sinner must be a devil ; but in a world of sinners, the man who
has grace to deviate must be a saint indeed.
Had I been in your situation on the day in which you say my
charity relieved you, I should have thought myself very little be-
holden to that person who would have plucked me back from my
opening paradise, into a world of whose woes I had been so justly
weary. No, no, my friend ; I did you and your Arabella the worst
office, as I think, that ye will ever receive. It was not to you that
God intended any benefit by restoring you to life ; it was to those,
and I hope they are many in number, who are to have the advantage
of your example and instructions. It is an advantage of which I
also propose to avail myself; and I request you, in behalf of my
little Harry hi particular, to accept your first retainer from our
hands.
124 TEE FOOL OF QUALITY.
So saying, Mr. Fenton carelessly slid a purse of a hundred
guineas into Clement's coat-pocket, and, hastily calling to know if
supper was ready, left the room without ceremony.
In about an hour the cloth was laid, and Mr. Fenton ordered
his family to be called together. He had seldom seen Arabella,
and never had noticed her, for fear of adding to that confusion with
which he saw her oppressed at their first meeting. But now his
senses were all open and alive for observation ; and, on her entrance,
he saluted her as he would have received and saluted a descending
seraph.
She had not yet recovered her flesh or her complexion ; and Mr.
Fenton for some time looked at her in vain, to discover those
striking and irresistible beauties to which a whole people had borne
joint testimony, by a voucher of public prostration and applause.
But of all that Mr. Fenton had previously thought necessary for
producing such extraordinary and astonishing effects, he saw nothing
but a sentiment of lowliness throughout ; a something in face, in
voice, and in motion, that was lovely, for no other reason that he
could find but for its being quite impossible that it should not be
beloved.
Awe, gratitude, veneration, and a depth of self-debasement,
united to oppress the heart and spirits of Arabella ; and in the course
of conversation she frequently hesitated and blushed exceedingly.
Mr. Fenton, with his wonted delicacy, made haste to divest her
of the weight under which she apparently laboured. Madam, said
he, with a diffident voice and downcast look on his own part, why
this constraint, why all this blushing, my dear Mrs. Clement ? in-
deed it is a compliment that we cannot deserve.
Ah, sir ! cried Mrs. Clement, it is a compliment which I would
very gladly spare, if I could help it. But I must be a very guilty
body, to be sure ; and my faults I find must be very much my
enemies, when they are ready to fly in my face every moment.
Why, Mrs. Clement, said Mr. Fenton, do you hold blushing to be
any evidence of guilt? Certainly, sir, said Arabella; it can be
nothing but a consciousness of somewhat amiss that ought to give
shame, to any sensible person. Mr. Sergeant Clement, cried Mr.
Fenton, pray, what is your judgment on the case in hand ?
In truth, sir, said Clement, it is a case to which I am not pre-
pared to plead. I have, indeed, heard many and various opinions
on the subject, though generally coinciding with that of my Arabella.
And more particularly in conversations of ribald entendre, I have
heard it affirmed that the blushing of a woman is a sure proof of
her understanding much more than became her.
Hold there, cried Mr. Fenton, the mere understanding of good
or evil can no more be a fault in the creature than in the Creator :
the offence of guilt bears no reference to knowledge, but consists in
the approbation of evil alone. A woman therefore, who blushes
at what she disapproves, blushes not for herself, but for the faults
of her rude and ill-mannered company, who have not the grace to
blush for themselves.
When I speak here of blushing, I would not be understood, by
any means, to include the flushing of vanity, or the reddenings of
THE FOOL OF QUALITY. 125
anger, or any such like turbulent and irregular motions. I mean
no other than that ready expression of shame, which, as our Arabella
sweetly hinted just now, arises from an apprehension of something
being amiss in ourselves, or others. But who or what is it that
apprehends in this case? Is it guilt that is afraid or ashamed of
guilt ? No, surely. It is virtue alone that can fear or be ashamed
of the neighbourhood of its adversary.
I will take an instance from a person who is actually guilty of
something very enormous ; and who blushes on his being questioned
or suspected of the transgression. His blushing here demonstrates
his sensibility; and his sensibility demonstrates some principle
within him, that disapproved and reproached him for what he had
committed. And so long as this spark or principle remains un-
quenched in the bosom ; so long as the wicked themselves can feel
compunction, and be ashamed of wickedness ; so long their recovery
is not to be despaired of.
It is therefore, from the fountain of virtue alone, that this flush
of shamefacedness can possibly flow ; and a delicacy of compunction,
on such occasions, is a sensitive plant of virtue in the soul, that
feels, shrinks, and is alarmed on the slightest apprehension of
approaching evil.
Well, sir, said Arabella, allowing all that you have advanced in
behalf of blushers (and that is doing them more favour than I fear
they deserve), can it amount to more than this; that however
faulty they may be, they still have goodness enough to acknowledge
their guilt; or, in other words, that they have the justice to be
ashamed of themselves ?
Yes, madam, said Mr. Fenton, it amounts to much more, and you
know that it does. But you are a wicked little sophister, and de-
serve to be punished, by our yielding to you the cause that you
have undertaken against yourself.
When I observed that nothing but virtue could undesignedly
express a disapprobation of vice, I ought further to have observed,
that the greater and the purer, the more excellent and more vivid
that this virtue is, the more apt it will be to take alarm at the bare
apprehension of having said or done, or of being suspected to have
said, or done, or thought of any thing amiss, or contrary to its own
nature.
As far as a guilty person loves and is reconciled to guilt, it be-
comes a part of himself, and he cannot blush at it. But goodness
will blush in a closet, in a desert, in darkness, on fearing it was in
danger to have said or done any thing unbecoming or disgustful to
its own sensibilities.
But again, where such a delicate virtue is accompanied by lowli-
ness, there needs not any thing amiss, nor the slightest apprehension
of any thing amiss, to excite this sweet confusion in the soul and
in the countenance. Humility will blush to be found hi the pre-
sence of those whom it reveres; it will blush to be thought of
either too meanly or too highly by those whose favourable opinion
it wishes to merit.
This graceful effusion of a virtuous and humble heart is, as I once
hinted, the highest, and generally the most grateful compliment
126 TEE FOOL OF QUALITY.
that the person can pay to the company ; as it is an expression of
deference, and a comparative acknowledgment of superior merit.
But it is more peculiarly amiable in your sex, Mrs. Clement ; it is
that shamefacedness so grateful to God and man, and which in
scripture is called the most becoming clothing and best ornament
of a woman.
However, my dear child, as this emotion is generally attended
with some little matter of pain, the present company are too much
your friends to receive any kind of pleasure from a compliment
as unmerited as it is wholly unnecessary. And, in truth, there is
but one thing that I can think of for which Mrs. Clement ought
to blush.
Pray, sir, don't hold me in pain ; what is it, I beseech you ?
It is for being a reproach almost to her whole sex.
Ah, sir ! cried Arabella rising, smiling and blushing, and curtsy-
ing down to the ground, excuse me if I don't stay to hear myself
so abused; and, turning away, she swam and disappeared in
an instant.
As soon as she was gone, Clement took out his purse of a
hundred guineas. And pray, sir, said he, what shall I do with all
this money? Oh! as for that matter, said Mr. Fenton, I know
people not half so ingenious as you are, who could quickly contrive
to get rid of a much larger sum. Lay it out in decent clothing for
yourself and your Arabella, and I will find some way to have you
reimbursed. In short, Hammel, I cannot think of parting with
you, if my fortune may serve for a sufficient cement. I will pay
you two hundred guineas yearly while you stay with me, and I will
settle on you one thousand pounds in case of my mortality, to put
you into some little station of independence.
Sir, sir ! cried Clement hesitatingly, you oppress me, you Hush,
hush ! said Mr. Fenton, putting his hand to his mouth ; no compli-
ments, my dear friend. It is not your thanks, but your services
that I want; and you may readily make them more than an
equivalent to such matters. I value the instilling of a single
principle of goodness or honour into the mind of my dear Harry,
beyond all the wealth that the Indies can remit. Ah, Hammel!
why was not that brat of yours a girl instead of a boy ! She might
one day have been the wife of my precious Harry; and I might then
have had some of the breed of this wonderful Arabella.
But, Hammy, continued Mr. Fenton, I would not have you,
through any zeal or attachment to me, think of pushing my boy
into learning of the languages beyond his own pleasure. Neither
would I have you oppress or perplex his infant mind with the deep
or mysterious parts of our holy religion. First, be it your care to
instruct him hi morality; and let the law precede the gospel, for
such was the education that God appointed for the world. Give
him, by familiar and historical instances, an early impression of the
shortness of human life, and of the nature of the world in which he
is placed. Let him learn, from this day forward, to distinguish
between natural and imaginary wants; and that nothing is estimable,
or ought to be desirable, but so far as it is necessary or useful to
man. Instruct my darling, daily and hourly, if possible, in a
TEE FOOL OF QUALITY. 127
preference of manners and things that bear an intrinsic value, to
those that receive their value and currency from the arbitrary and
fickle stamp of fashion. Show him also, my Hammel, that the
same toils and sufferings, the same poverty and pain, from which
people now fly as they would from a plague, were once the desire
of heroes and the fashion of nations ; and that thousands of patriots,
of captains, and philosophers, through a love of their country or
of glory, of applause during life or distinction after death, have
rejected wealth and pleasure, embraced want and hardship, and
suffered more from a voluntary mortification and self-denial, than
our church seems to require in these days for the conquest of a
sensual world into which we are fallen, and for entitling us to
a crown in the kingdom of eternity.
So saying, Mr. Fenton got up from table, and, observing that it
was late, wished Clement a good-night.
Our hero was now eight years of age, and weekly and daily con-
tinued to be exercised in feats of bodily prowess and agility, and
in acts of mental benevolence and service to mankind.
Mr. Fenton had already provided his favourite with a dancing-
master, the most approved for skill in his profession ; as also with
a noted fencing-master, who further taught him the noble science
of the cudgel and quarter-staff. He was now on the search for the
most distinguished champion of the Bear-garden, in order to
accomplish our hero in the mysteries of bruising, of wrestling, and
of tripping ; and having in a short time procured the person de-
sired, he purchased for his Harry a small but beautiful Spanish
jennett, that was perfectly dressed as they called it, or rid to the
manage, and once in every week or fortnight he accompanied his
darling to the riding-house in Islington, where he saw him in-
structed in all the arts and elegancies of horsemanship.
Thus Harry had his little hands as full of business as they could
hold. But he was naturally of an active and vivid disposition ; and
time, unemployed, lay upon him as the heaviest and most irksome
of all burdens. He therefore proceeded from his book to his
exercises, and from one exercise to another, as an epicure does
among a number of dishes, where the variety of the seasoning
excites in him a new appetite to each.
Within a few weeks after the late dissertation upon blushing,
the same company being present, and dinner removed Harry,
says Mr. Fenton, tell me which of the two is the richest, the man
who wants least, or the man who hath most ? Let me think, father,
says Harry. Why, sure they are the same thing ; are not they,
dada ? By no means, my darling, cried Mr. Fenton.
There lived two famous men at the same time, the one was
called Diogenes, and the other Alexander. Diogenes refused to
accept of any worldly goods, save one wooden cup to carry water
to his mouth ; but when he found that he could drink by lying
down and putting his mouth to the stream, he threw his cup away,
as a thing that he did not want.
Alexander, on the other side, was a great conqueror ; and when
he had conquered and got possession of all the world, he fell a
crying because there were not a hundred more such worlds for him
128 THE FOOL OF QUALITY.
to conquer. Now, which of these two was the richest, do you
think?
O, exclaimed Harry, Diogenes to be sure Diogenes to be sure !
He who wants nothing is the richest man in the world. Diogenes
was richer than Alexander by a hundred worlds.
Very true, my love, rejoined Mr. Fenton. Alexander had a
whole world more than Diogenes wanted, and yet desired a hundred
worlds more than he had. Now, as no man will allow that he
wants what he does not desire, and all affirm that they want what-
soever they do desire, desires and wants are generally accounted
as one and the same thing ; and yet, my Harry, there is a thing of
which it may be said, that the more we desire it the less we want
it, and that the less we desire of it, the greater is our want.
What in the world can that be, father? It is goodness, my
love. Well, says Harry, I will not puzzle my brains about nice
matters. All I know is, that no man has more goodness than he
wants, except it be yourself. I do not talk of women, for I believe
Mrs. Clement here is very good ; pray, look in her face, father do
not you think she is very good?
I see, Harry, said Mr. Fenton, that young as you are you are
a perfect physiognomist. Why, pray, sir, said Arabella, is it in
earnest your opinion, that the character of mind or manners may
in any measure be gathered from the form of the countenance?
Is not the world filled with stories of deceit and treachery of such
false appearances ? You remember how Horace says, that a prudent
mariner puts no trust in the gildings or paintings of a ship ; such,
superficial glossings, as one might think, ought rather to be sus-
pected of an intention to conceal the rottenness of the timber.
And then the passage of the famous physiognomists at Athens, so
often quoted as a proof of capacity and knowledge in this way,
proves wholly the reverse as I take it. Their judgment of Socrates
is opposite to truth in every instance ; they pronounced him the
most debauched, irascible, and malicious of men ; and it is a very
poor apology that Socrates makes for their ignorance, when he
affirms that he was by birth the very person they deemed him, but
that philosophy had given him a new nature ; for, if education can
change the heart without changing the countenance, how can we
form any conjecture of the one by the other?
Though I insist, Mrs. Clement, that you are wrong in your
thesis, replied Mr. Fenton, I admit that you are perfectly just in
your inference. For if a change of mind or manners can make no
change in the aspect, the whole science of physiognomy must fall
to the ground. I therefore take this passage relating to Socrates
to be a mere fiction; and I affirm that neither philosophy nor
Christianity can make a new heart or a new nature in man, without
making a suitable alteration in his visage.
As the heavens are made expressive of the glory of God, though
frequently overcast with clouds and tempests, and sometimes break-
ing forth in thunders that terrify, and lightnings that blast; so
the general tenor of a human countenance is made expressive of
the nature of the soul that lives within, and to which it is ordained
an involuntary interpreter.
TEE FOOL OF QUALITY. 129
Many persons have made it the study of great part of their lives
to counteract Providence in this honest appointment ; to shut
this window, by which an impertinent world is so apt to peep in,
and spy what they are about; and, as far as possible, to make
the expressions of their countenance to belie every sentiment and
emotion of the heart.
I have known hypocrisy, treachery, pride, malice, and lust,
assume the opposite semblance of saintship, fidelity, lowliness,
benevolence, and chastity. But it is painful to keep the bow of
nature long bent; its elasticity will still struggle to have it restored ;
and a skilful discerner, at the time of such delusion, will often
detect the difference between a real character and the acting of a
part. For when nature dictates, the whole man speaks ; all is
uniform and consenting in voice, mien, motion, the turn of each
feature, and the cast of the eyes. But when art is the spokesman,
and that nature is not altogether suppressed, the turn of the eye
may contradict the tongue, and the muscles of the face may coun-
teract each other in their several workings. And thus I have
known an expression of resentment remain on the brow, while the
face laboured to invest itself with a smile of complacence ; and
I have known the eye to burn with ill-governed concupiscence,
while voice, action, and address united in the avowal of chaste
and honourable regards.
I perceive, sir, said Mr. Clement, by your own account, that he
must be a very learned proficient in the study of physiognomy who
can decide, with any kind of certainty, on an art that requires
such attention and penetration.
I beg leave to differ, answered Mr. Fenton. The science is much
more obvious than you may imagine ; and I fancy there are very
few persons who do not trust, without reflecting, to their own skill
in this way; and who do not inadvertently form a character to them-
selves of almost all the people with whom they are conversant.
I am persuaded that there is not a single sentiment, whether
tending to good or evil in the human soul, that has not its distinct
and respective interpreter in the glance of the eye, and in the
muscling of the countenance. When nature is permitted to express
herself with freedom by this language of the face, she is understood
by all people; and those who never were taught a letter, can
instantly read her signatures and impressions ; whether they be of
wrath, hatred, envy, pride, jealousy, vexation, contempt, pain, fear,
horror, and dismay; or of attention, respect, wonder, surprise,
pleasure, transport, complacence, affection, desire, peace, lowliness,
and love.
Now, all persons are born with propensities (whether they be
mental or constitutional) to some passions and affections, rather than
to others. I will take two instances ; the one of a male infant, who
is born with a propensity to pride and arrogance ; the other of a
female infant, who is born with a propensity to bashfulness and
lowliness. In either case, it is evident that, from the first occasion
that may serve to excite these several affections in these several
infants, the sentiments of their souls will be suitably and intelligibly
expressed in their aspects ; and every further occasion of renewing
130 THE FOOL OF QUALITY.
the same impressions will render them more obvious and legible to
every eye. Insomuch that, if no future influence, arising from
accident or education, shall check the pride of the one, or divert
the lowliness of the other, the male will be seen to look on those
about him with an habitual self-sufficiency and contempt of his
species ; and the female will be seen to regard human-kind with
an amiable diffidence and a complacent respect.
Let us see, however, how far education may be able to change
these sentiments ; and how far a change of sentiments may pro-
duce a change of face.
If the scorner should be so happy as to meet with worthy tutors,
wise and diligent to inculcate the insufficiency of all creatures, and
more particularly the wants, weaknesses, and vileness of pur lapsed
natures, and that no honour can belong to man in this state of
depravity ; but, above all, should this scorner prove so happy as to
be educated in the never-failing school of Christian meekness even
the school of adversity, of pain, sickness, depressing poverty and
mortification his lofty crest by degrees will be effectually un-
plumed; his sufficiency and high-mindedness will sink to an humble
prayer and look-out for relief; and he will respect even the
wretched, because he will acquire a social sense and fellow-feeling
of their wretchedness.
Here then is another man, as new made and as different from
his former self as he can possibly be supposed from any other of the
human species. But will this total change of sentiment produce no
change of aspect, think ye ? Will this benevolent and lowly man
retain the same front of haughtiness, the same brow of over-
bearance, the same eye of elevation, the same lip of ridicule, and
the same glance of contempt? It cannot be said, it cannot be
imagined.
When God, by his inspired penmen, expresses his detestation of
a lofty look, was he quarrelling, do you think, with the natural and
unavoidable cast of an unhappy countenance? No, no, my dear
friends. In condemning a proud aspect, he condemned a proud
heart ; forasmuch as he knew that a loftiness of look and a sauci-
ness of soul could not be divided.
But to clear up this question from any remaining doubt, let us
suppose that the female infant, with bashful and lowly propensities,
is just brought down, blushing and trembling from the nursery.
Let us suppose her education to be taken hi hand by a mamma of
figure and fashion, and by other dames of quality, whose estimate
of happiness is measured merely by the mode. She now becomes
instructed in more instances of self-denial than such as, dictated
and tuned by Christianity, would have sainted her for eternity.
She is taught to suppress her natural feelings and inclinations, and
to bridle the impulses of an affectionate and an humble heart. She
is taught to prize what she dislikes, and to praise what she dis-
approves ; to affect coldness and distance to inferiors whom she
regarded, and to proportion her appearance of inclination and
respect to the station of the party.
As I have been ear-witness to several of these quality-lectures,
I might give you many familiar instances of their nature and
THE FOOL OF QUALITY. 131
tendency. Fie, Harriet, says my lady, what does the girl blush
at? You are handsome and well-shaped, my dear, and have
nothing to be ashamed of that I know. No one blushes nowadays
except silly country girls who are ignorant of the world. But do
not let your face be a town-crier, Harriet, to let every body know
what you have in your mind. To be ashamed, my girl, is the
greatest of all shames.
Again, my dear, I warn you that you must not be so fond of the
Miss Colosses, who used to visit you in the nursery. For, though
they are good sort of girls, their parents are people in but middling
life, and we never admit them when there's company in the house.
And then there's the Miss Sinclairs, how low you curtsied to them
yesterday, and what a rout you made about welcoming and enter-
taining them ; but let me have no more of that, for though they
are rich, they are cits and people of business ; and a nod of your
head, or inclination towards a curtsy, with some Yeses and Noes,
when they ask you a question, will be matter enough of salute and
discourse from you to them.
I must further advise you, Harriet, not to heap such mountains
of sugar, nor to pour such a deluge of cream into your tea ; people
will certainly take you for the daughter of a dairymaid. There is
young Jenny Quirp, who is a lady by birth, and she has brought
herself to the perfection of never suffering the tincture of her tea
to be spoiled by whitening, nor the flavour to be adulterated by a
grain of sweet. And then you say you cannot like coffee, and I
could not but laugh, though I was quite ashamed at the wry faces
you made the other day, when you mistook the olives for
sweetmeats. But these things, my child, are relished by persons
of taste, and you must force yourself to swallow and relish
them also.
I was talking a while ago of young Lady Jane Quirp. There's a
pattern for you, Harriet ; one who never likes or dislikes, or says
or does any thing a hair's-breadth beyond the pink of the mode.
She is ugly, it is true, and very ill-natured ; but then she is finely
bred, and has all the becoming airs of a miss of distinction. Her
you must love, my child, and to her you must pay your court ; for
you must learn to love and prefer such matters and persons alone,
as will serve, in the beau monde, to render you noted and respected
for the accomplishments in vogue.
These lessons and efforts, in time, have their influence. Miss
comes to accommodate her taste and relish of things to the taste
and relish of those whom she is proud to resemble. She now is
ashamed of nothing, but in proportion as it is below the top of the
mode ; and she blushes at no indecency that fashion is pleased to
adopt. Her whole soul and essence is futilized and extracted into
show and superficials. She learns that friendship in high life is
nothing but compliment, and visits, intimacies, and connections,
the polite grimace of people of distinction ; that to talk elegantly
upon nothing is the sum of conversation ; that beauty and dress are
the constituents of female perfection ; and that the more we de-
preciate and detract from others, the more eminently we ourselves
shall shine forth, and be exalted. She is foUowed by fops, she is
K2
132 THE FOOL OF QUALITY.
worshipped by fortune-hunters. She is mounted aloft upon the
wings of flattery, and is hardened against public opinion by self-
conceit. While she beholds a circling group of the tailor's creation,
admiring the harmony of her motions, the fineness of her com-
plexion, and the lustre of her ornaments, the same vanity that bids
her to be desirous of conquest, bids her also to despise them : but,
for the vulgar world, she regards it as the dust beneath her steps,
created to no end, save to be looked down upon, and trodden
under foot.
Will ye now affirm, or can ye conceive, that any trace of native
bashfulness and lowliness should remain in the frontlet of this
piece of court-petrifaction ? No such trace can remain.
As I observed to ye before, that every affection of the human
soul has its distinct and respective interpreter in the countenance ;
I am further to take notice, that each of those many interpreters
hath its respective set of tubes and fibres leading thereto, through
which the blood and spirits flow on their respective emotion. Thus,
whatever the general tenor of a person's temper may be, such as
joyous or melancholy, irascible or placid, and so forth ; the vessels
relative to these affections are kept open and full by an almost
constant flow of the blood and animal spirits, and impress such
evident characters of that person's disposition as are not to be
suppressed except for a time, and that too by some powerful and
opposite passion. For the muscles, so employed, grow stronger
and more conspicuous by exercise ; as we see the legs of a chairman,
and the shoulders of a porter, derive bulk and distinction from the
peculiarity of their occupation.
Now I will take the argument in the strongest light against my-
self. I will suppose a man to be naturally of a melancholy cast of
countenance ; that he has the additional unhappiness of a bilious
constitution ; and that he is confirmed in this look and habit of
despondence by a train of distressful circumstances, till he arrives
at his twentieth or thirtieth year. I will then suppose that his
habit of body and temper of mind are totally changed by medicine,
a flow of success, a happy turn of reason and resignation, or perhaps
of complacence in the divine dispensations. He now grows sociable,
benevolent, cheerful, always joyous when in company, and placid
Vvhen alone. I ask, on this occasion, will ye continue to see the
same cast and habit of melancholy in this man's countenance ? No
more than ye can see the gloom of last winter in the smiling serene
of a summer's evening. For some time I admit it will be difficult
for the set of joyous muscles and glances to overpower their adver-
saries who have so long kept the field ; but, in the end, they must
prevail ; they will receive constant supplies from within, and the
passages for their reinforcement will lie opened more and more,
while their opponents daily subside, give place, and disappear.
What I have observed with respect to melancholy, may be
equally affirmed of any other affection whose opposite gets an
habitual empire in the mind. I say habitual, because there are
some persons of such variable and fluctuating tempers, now furious,
now complacent ; now churlish, now generous ; now mopingly
melancholy, now merry to madness ; now pious, now profane ; now
THE FOOL OF QUALITY. 133
cruelly hard-hearted, now meltingly humane that a man can no
more judge of what nature or disposition such people are, than he
can determine what wind shall predominate next April ; and yet,
when the wind blows, he can tell by every cloud and weathercock
from what point it comes, and may as easily decipher the present
temper by the aspect.
But, sir, said Arabella, might not nature impress, as in the case
of Socrates, such conspicuous characters of vice (in his peculiar cast
of countenance and strong turn of muscling) as no internal virtues
should be able to retract?
By no means, madam, answered Mr. Fenton. For if such cha-
racters are impressed by nature on a countenance, independent
of any such characters in the mind, this would first overthrow
the whole system of the physiognomists, who judged of the mind
by the countenance alone ; and secondly, it would overthrow the
opinion of Socrates himself, who allowed that his countenance
had received such impressions from the natural bent and disposi-
tion of his mind. But again, if the mind has really a power to
impress her own character or likeness on the countenance, what
should take away this power? why does not she retain it? Why
should not a total change of character in the soul, make some
suitable change of character in the aspect? It does, madam, it
does make a total change. And there are thousands of faces in
yonder sanctified city, that once expressed all the sweetness of
bashful modesty, and yet are now as much hardened and bronzed
over with impudence as the face of the statue at Charing-cross.
In the soft and pliable features of infancy and youth, the mind
can express itself with much more force and perspicuity, than in
the features of people more advanced in years. The nerves and
fibres, in our early age, are all open, active, and animated ; they
reach to the outward surface of the skin ; and the soul looks forth,
and is seen through them, as a Spanish beauty is seen through a
veil of gauze. But time destroys many of these intelligible fibres ;
it also obstructs others, and it renders the remainder less sus-
ceptible of those offices and mental impressions for which they
were ordained, till the surface of the countenance grows so callous
and rigid, that the beauties of the soul can no more be discovered
through it, than the luminaries of heaven through an atmosphere
of clouds. Scarce any thing, save sudden passion, can then be
discernible, like the flashes of lightning that break through the
gloom.
For this very reason, my dear Mrs. Clement, were it possible
for you to advance in virtues as you advance in years, you will
however grow less amiable in the eyes of mortals, as your beauties
will be more and more shut in from their observation.
This brings me to my last and most important remark on the
nature and power of beauty itself. And here we must note,
that, though nothing can be afiectingly lovely and detestable that
does not arise from some sentiment of the soul, there is yet, in
many faces, such a natural symmetry or disproportion as is
generally called by the name of beauty and ugliness. Thus, in
some countenances, you perceive a due relation and agreement
134 THE FOOL OF QUALITY.
between the parts ; while in others the forehead may overwhelm
the nether face ; or the mouth threaten to devour the other
features; or the nose may appear as a huge steeple that hides
a small church ; or as a mountain that is the whole of a man's
estate ; insomuch that as some may be said to want a nose to
their face, in the present case they may be said to want a face
to their nose. But this species of beauty and ugliness excites no
other kind of pleasure or disgust, save such as we receive from
two pieces of architecture, where one is executed with propriety,
and the other is obviously out of all rule. And, to continue the
simile, if people should be seen looking out of the windows of
those two buildings, we may come to detest and avoid the first,
and to love and frequent the latter, for the sake of those who
live therein. And just so it is with regular faces that express
a deformity of soul, and with disproportioned features that may
however be pregnant with the beauty of sentiment.
By beauty, therefore, I do not mean the beauty of lines or
angles; of motion or music; of form or colour; of numerical
agreements or geometrical proportions ; nor that which excites
the passion of some pragmatical inamoratos for a shell, a tulip,
or a butterfly. All these have, undoubtedly, their peculiar beauty;
but then that beauty has no relation to the power or perception of
that which contains it ; it is derived from something that is alto-
gether foreign, and owes the whole of its merit to the superior
art and influence of God or man.
In the designings of sculptors, of painters, and statuaries, we
however see very great and truly-affecting beauty. I have, at
times, been melted into tears thereby ; and have felt within my
bosom the actual emotions of distress and compassion, of friend-
ship and of love. I ask, then, what it was that excited these
sensations? Could any lines, colourings, or mere symmetry of
inanimate parts, inspire affections, of which in themselves they
were incapable ? No ; they could only serve as the vehicles of
something intended to inspire such sensibilities, nothing further.
We must therefore look higher for a cause more adequate to such
extraordinary effects; and the first that presents itself is the
designer, who must have conceived amiable sentiments within
himself, before he could impress their beauty on these his inter-
preters, in order to excite suitable affections in others.
Here then it is evident, that whatever we affect or love in the
design, is no other than the sentiment or soul of the designer,
though we neither see nor know any thing further concerning
him. And thus a sculptor, a painter, a statuary, or amiable
author, by conveying their sentiments in lasting and intelligible
characters to mankind, may make the world admirers and lovers
of their beauty, when their features shall be rigid and incapable
of expression, and when they themselves shall no longer exist
among men.
From hence it should seem, as indeed I am fully persuaded,
that mind can affectingly love nothing but mind ; and that
universal nature can exhibit no single grace or beauty that does
not arise from sentiment alone.
TEE FOOL OF QUALITY.
135
The power of this sentimental beauty, as I may say, is in many
cases great, amazing, and has not yet been accounted for, that I
know of, by any philosopher, poet, or author, though several have
made it their peculiar study and subject. We have seen and read
of many instances where it carries people, as it were, quite put of
themselves, and gives them to live and to be interested in the
object of their affections alone. They will run to fight, bleed,
suffer, and even to die in its defence ; and in its absence they will
pine and despair, and attempt to destroy themselves, rather than
bear to be divided from what they love in a manner above their
own existence.
This is wonderful, perhaps mysterious, and may possibly be in-
volved in impenetrable darkness. Let us try, however, if we can
throw any probable lights upon it.
"We have already seen that human artificers can impress the
beauty of their own sentiments on their inanimate works. Sup-
pose, then, that God should be barely the same to universal nature
that a finite designer is to the piece he has in hand. He finds
that the stuff or material which he is to form and to inform, is
in itself utterly incapable of any thing that is desirable. He
therefore finds himself under the necessity of imparting to his
works some faint manifestation or similitude of himself; for
otherwise they cannot be amiable, neither can he see his shadow
in them with any delight. On matter, therefore, he first impresses
such distant characters of his own beauty as the subject will bear;
in the glory of the heavens, in the movement of the planets, in the
symmetry of form, in the harmony of sounds, in the elegance of
colours, in the elaborate texture of the smallest leaf, and in the
infinitely-fine mechanism of such insects and minims of nature as
are scarce visible to eyes of the clearest discernment.
But when God comes towards home, if the phrase may be
allowed ; when he impresses on intelligent spirits a nearer resem-
blance of himself, and imparts to them also a perception and
relish of the beauty with which he has formed them he then
delights to behold, and will eternally delight to behold his image,
so fairly reflected by such a living mirror. Yet still they are no
other than his own beauties that he beholds in his works; for
his omnipotence can impress, but cannot possibly detach, a single
grace from himself.
I am not quite singular in this opinion. I have somewhere read
the following stanza :
'Tis goodness forms the beauty of the face,
The -One of virtue is the line of grace.
Here is also a little poem, lately published on a lady who was
beholden to the graces of her mind alone for all the attractions
of her person and countenance :
What is beauty ? is it form,
No It is internal grace,
Pregnant in the form and face;
136 THE FOOL OF QUALITY.
The sentiment that's heard and seen.
In act and manners, voice and mien;
It is the soul's celestial ray
Breaking through the veil of clay :
'Tis the Grodhead in the heart,
Touching each external part ;
Wrapt in matter else too bright
For our sense, and for our sight.
BEAUTY (envy be thou dumb)
Is DIVINITY in
Here we reach at the nature of that enchantment or magnetism,
with which some persons are so powerfully endued as to engage
the liking of all who barely behold them ; an enchantment often
attractive of friendship, affection,, passion, to tenderness, languish-
ment, pain, sickness, and death.
Here also we discover why the bliss which we reach after eludes
our grasp ; why it vanishes, as it were, in the moment of enjoy-
ment, yet still continues to fascinate and attract as before ; for-
asmuch as the BEAUTY after which we sigh, is not essentially in
the mirror where we behold its similitude. Thus, Ixion is said
to have clasped a cloud, without reflecting that it was but a bare
resemblance of the real divinity who had excited his passion.
This will at once account for all the wonderful effects of beauty.
For, if nothing but God is lovely, if nothing else can be beloved,
he is himself the universal and irresistible magnet, that draws all
intelligent and affectionate beings, through the medium of creatures,
to the graces of their Creator ; till the veil shall finally be taken
away, and that he himself shall appear, in his eternal, unclouded,
and unspeakable beauty, infinitely lovely and infinitely beloved.
But I have out-talked my time, says Mr. Fenton, rising and
looking at his watch. I am engaged for an hour or two above
street, and wish ye a good-evening.
On a day while Mr. Fenton was abroad, Ned, who would not will-
ingly have changed his unluckiness for the heirship of an estate,
happened to take a little ramble through the town. He held a stick,
to the end of which he had a long ferule of hollow tin, which he
could take off at pleasure ; and from the extremity of the ferule,
there arose a small collateral pipe, in an angle of about forty-five
degrees. He had filled this ferule with puddle water ; which by
sudden pressure of the stick, he could squirt out to double the
height of his own stature.
On his return, he saw an elderly gentleman advancing, whose
shadow, being lengthened by the declining sun, attended with a
slow and stately motion. As Ned approached, he exclaimed with
a well-counterfeited fear Look, look! what's that behind you?
Take care of yourself, sir ; for Heaven's sake, take care.
The gentleman, alarmed hereat, instantly started, turned pale,
and looked terrified behind him, and on either side, when Ned,
recovering his countenance, said O sir, I beg pardon, I believe it
is nothing but your shadow. What, sirrah, cried the gentleman in
a tone highly exasperated, have you learned no better manners
than to banter your superiors ? and then, lifting a cane switch, he
gave our merry companion a few smart strokes across the shoulders.
Friend. This, I presume, must be some very respectable per-
TEE FOOL OF QUALITY. 137
sonage, some extraordinary favourite of yours ; since, within a few
lines, you style him three or four times by your " most venerable
of all titles, the title of a gentleman."
Author. Sir, I would not hold three words of conversation with
any man who did not deserve the appellation of gentleman by many
degrees better than this man does.
Friend. Why, then, do you write or speak with such acknow-
ledged impropriety?
Author. I think for myself, but I speak for the people. I may
think as I please, for I understand my own thoughts ; but, would I
be understood when I speak to others also, I must speak with the
people ; I must speak in common terms, according to their common
or general acceptation.
There is no term in our language more common than that of
gentleman ; and, whenever it is heard, all agree in the general idea
of a man some way elevated above the vulgar. Yet, perhaps, no
two living are precisely agreed respecting the qualities they think
requisite for constituting this character. When we hear the
epithets of a "fine gentleman, a pretty gentleman, much of a
gentleman, gentleman-like, something of a gentleman, nothing of a
gentleman," and so forth ; all these different appellations must in-
tend a peculiarity annexed to the ideas of those who express them ;
though no two of them, as I said, may agree in the constituent
qualities of the character they have formed in their own mind.
There have been ladies who deemed a bag- wig, a tasselled waist-
coat, new-fashioned snuff-box, and sword-knot, very capital in-
gredients in the composition of a gentleman.
A certain easy impudence acquired by low people, by being
casually conversant in high life, has passed a man through many
companies for a gentleman.
In the country a laced hat and long whip make a gentleman.
With heralds, every esquire is indisputably a gentleman.
And the highwayman, in his manner of taking your purse, may,
however, be allowed to have much of the gentleman.
Friend. As you say, my friend, our ideas of this matter are very
various and adverse. In our own minds, perhaps, they are also
undetermined; and I question if any man has formed to himself
a conception of this character with sufficient precision. Pray was
there any such character among the philosophers ?
Author. Plato, among the philosophers, was " the most of a man
of fashion ;" and therefore allowed at the court of Syracuse to be
the most of a gentleman.
But, seriously, I apprehend that this character is pretty much
upon the modern. In all ancient or dead languages we have no
term any way adequate whereby we may express it. In the habits,
manners, and characters of old Sparta and old Eome, we find an
antipathy to all the elements of modern gentility. Among those
rude and unpolished people, you read of philosophers, of orators,
patriots, heroes, and demigods ; but you never hear of any character
so elegant as that of a pretty gentleman.
When those nations, however, became refined into what their an-
cestors would have called corruption ; when luxury introduced, and
138 TEE FOOL OF QUALITY.
fashion gave a sanction to certain sciences, which cynics would have
branded with the ill-mannered appellations of debauchery, drunken-
ness, gambling, cheating, lying, &c., the practitioners assumed
the new title of gentlemen, till such gentlemen became as plenteous
as stars in the milky way, and lost distinction merely by the con-
fluence of their lustre.
Wherefore, as the said qualities were found to be of ready acqui-
sition, and of easy descent to the populace from their betters, ambition
judged it necessary to add further marks and criterions for severing
the general herd from the nobler species of gentlemen.
Accordingly, if the commonalty were observed to have a pro-
pensity to religion, their superiors affected a disdain of such vulgar
prejudices, and a freedom that cast off the restraints of morality,
and a courage that spurned at the fear of God, were accounted the
distinguishing characteristics of a gentleman.
If the populace, as in China, were industrious and ingenious,
the grandees, by the length of their nails and the cramping of
their limbs, gave evidence that true dignity was above labour or
utility, and that to be born to no end was the prerogative of a
gentleman.
If the common sort by their conduct declare a respect for the
institutions of civil society and good government, their betters
despise such pusillanimous conformity, and the magistrates pay be-
coming regard to the distinction, and allow of the superior liberties
and privileges of a gentleman.
If the lower set show a sense of common honesty and common
order, those who would figure in the world think it incumbent to
demonstrate, that complaisance to inferiors, common manners, com-
mon equity, or any thing common, is quite beneath the attention
or sphere of a gentleman.
Now, as underlines are ever ambitious of imitating and usurping
the manners of their superiors, and as this state of mortality is
incident to perpetual change and revolution ; it may happen, that
when the populace, by encroaching on the province of gentility,
have arrived to their ne plus ultra of insolence, debauchery, irre-
ligion, &c., the gentry, in order to be again distinguished, may
assume the station that their inferiors had forsaken, and, however
ridiculous the supposition may appear at present, humanity, equity,
utility, complaisance and piety, may in time come to be the dis-
tinguishing characteristics of a gentleman.
Friend. From what you have said, it appears that the most
general idea which people have formed of a gentleman is that of a
person of fortune, above the vulgar, and embellished by manners
that are fashionable in high life. In this case, fortune and fashion
are the two constituent ingredients in the composition of modern
gentlemen; for, whatever the fashion may be, whether moral or
immoral, for or against reason, right or wrong, it is equally the duty
of a gentleman to conform.
Author. And yet I apprehend that true gentility is altogether
independent of fortune or fashion, of time, customs, or opinions of
any kind. The very same qualities that constituted a gentleman
in the first age of the world, are permanently, invariably, and in-
THE FOOL OF QUALITY. 139
dispensably necessary to the constitution of the same character to
the end of time.
Friend. By what you say, I perceive that we have not yet
touched on your most reverable of all characters. I am quite
impatient to hear your definition, or rather description, of your
favourite gentleman,
Author. The very first time you tire, I will indulge you, if you
desire it.
CHAPTER X.
NED was not of a temper to endure much without attempting at
retaliation ; and, directing the pipe of his ferule to the front of his
adversary, he suddenly discharged the full contents in his eyes and
face, and upon his clothing ; and straight taking to his heels, he
hoped to get in at the door before the stranger could clear his sight
to take notice where he sheltered.
Ned however happened, at this time, to be somewhat over-
sanguine in his expectations. Mr. Snarle, for that was the name of
the party bespattered, had just cleared one eye in season to remark
where his enemy had entered; and hastening home, he washed,
undressed, and shifted his linen and clothes, with less passion and
fewer curses by the half, than he conceived to be due to so out-
rageous an insult.
Mr. Snarle had himself been a humourist in his time, and had
acquired a pretty competence by very fashionable means ; such as
gambling, bearing testimony for a friend in distress, procuring in-
telligence for the ministry, &c. &c. He had, some years ago, been
bullied into marriage by the relations of a young termagant. She
was neither gentle by nature, nor polished by education ; she liked
nothing of her husband except his fortune ; and they lived together
hi a state of perpetual altercation and mutual disgust.
Old age, and a quarrelsome companion for life, seldom happen to
be sweeteners of the human temper ; and Mr. Snarle had now ac-
quired such a quantum of the infirmities both of body and mind,
as might justly apologize for a peevish disposition. He had lately
taken a handsome house on the hill for the benefit of air. As soon
as he had reclaimed himself from the pickle into which Ned had
put him, he sent to inquire the name and character of the owner
of that house where he had taken refuge ; and, being sufficiently
apprised of what he wanted to know, he walked toward Mr.
Fenton's, hastening his pace with the spirit and expectation of
revenge.
Mr. Fenton had arrived but a little before, and, desiring to know
Mr. Snarle's commands, he was informed, in terms the most aggra-
vating and inveterate, of the whole course and history of Ned's
misbehaviour. The delinquent thereupon was called up to instant
trial. He honestly confessed the facts, but pleaded, in mitigation,
the beating that Mr. Snarle had already given him: but as Mr.
Fenton did not judge this sufficient to reform the natural petulance
of a disposition that otherwise was not void of merit, a rod was
140 TEE FOOL OF QUALITY.
immediately brought, and Andrew was ordered to horse, and Frank
to flog the criminal in presence of the party aggrieved.
During this operation, Mr. Snarle observed that Frank's hand did
not altogether answer to the benevolence of his own heart ; where-
upon he furiously snatched the rod from him, and began to lay at
Ned with might and main. Hereat Mr. Fenton ordered Andrew
to let the boy down, and, observing that he would no further in-
terfere in a cause where the appellant assumed judgment and execu-
tion to himself, he carelessly turned his back upon Mr. Snarle, and
left him to cool his passions by his evening's walk homeward.
Poor Ned was more afraid of Mr. Fenton's displeasure than he
would have been of a full brother to the whipping he had got.
But Mr. Fenton was too generous to add the severity of his own
countenance to the weight of Frank's hand, and Ned was quickly
reinstated in the good graces of the family
His genius, however, returned with an involuntary bent toward
obtaining satisfaction for the injuries he had received from Mr.
Snarle, provided he might retaliate without fear of detection ; and
he was not slow in contriving very adequate means.
There was a villager in Hampstead, about ten years of age, who
had conceived an uncommon kindness for Ned on account of his
sprig-htliness, his wit, and good-humour. To this condoling- friend
he had imparted his grievances ; and on him alone he depended for
execution of the project proposed for redress.
On a certain moonless night they mustered four tame cats, and
having bound some fuse round three or four inches of the ex-
tremity of each of their tails, they lodged them together in a bag ;
and somewhat after supper-time, when all the town was silent,
they marched softly and cautiously to the house of Mr. Snarle.
There Ned's friend with his knife dexterously picked away the
putty from a pane of the window of a side-chamber, where no light
appeared ; and having put fire to the fuse of each tail successively,
they slipped their cats one by one in at the window, and again
having pegged the pane into its place, they withdrew to a little
distance to watch the issue.
The poor cats remained silent, and universally inoffensive, while
they felt no damage, But as soon as the fire had seized on
their tails, they began to speak to you in a language wholly
peculiar, as one would think, to sentiments and sounds of diabolical
intention.
Mr. and Mrs. Snarle had been jangling over the fire in an
opposite parlour, when their dispute was suddenly settled by this
outcry, as they imagined, of a legion of infernals. They instantly
started up, and cast a countenance of pale and contagious panic at
each other. But George, the footman, a strong and bold fellow,
having just before entered on some business to his master, turned
and run to the chamber from whence the peal came. He threw
open the door with his wonted intrepidity; but this was as far
as mortal courage could go; for the cats spying a passage whereby,
as they conceived, they might fly from their pain, rushed sud-
denly and jointly on the face and breast of George, and back he
fell with a cry of terror and desperation. On however went the
TEE FOOL OF QUALITY.
141
cats, and, flying into the parlour, one fastened a claw in each cheek
of Mr. Snarle ; and as his lady screamed out and clapped her hands
before her face, another fastened with four fangs on her best Brussels
head, and rent and tore away after a lamentable manner.
The chambermaid and cook, hearing the uproar from the kitchen,
were afraid to ascend, and still more afraid to stay below alone ;
they therefore crept softly and trembling up-stairs. The torture
the cats were in did not permit them to be attached to any single
object. They had quitted Mr. and Mrs. Snarle, and now flew about
the parlour, smashing, dashing, and overturning piers, glasses, and
china, and whatever came in their way, as though it had been the
very palace of Pandemonium itself.
George was again on his legs ; his master and mistress had eloped
from the parlour, and met the two maids in the middle of the entry.
They concluded, nem. con., to get as speedily as they might from
the ministers of darkness, and would willingly have escaped by
the street-door ; but, alas ! this was not possible ; one of the cats
guarded the pass, and, clinging to the great lock with all his
talons, growled and yelled in the dialect of twenty fiends. The
stairs, however, remained open, and up they would have rushed,
but were so enfeebled by their fright that it could not be clone
in the way of a race.
Having scaled as far as the dining-room, they all entered and
bolted the door, and Mr. Snarle, opening a window, saw a large posse
of neighbours who had gathered below. What is the matter, sir ?
cried one of them ; what is the meaning of this horrible uproar
and din? one would think that hell was empty, and that all its
inhabitants were come to keep carnival in your house.
O, a ladder, a ladder ! cries Mr. Snarle ; deliver us, good people,
good Christian people ; a ladder, we beseech thee ; a ladder, a
ladder ! That, indeed, cries a wag, is the last good turn an honest
fellow has occasion for.
The ladder was soon brought, and this panic-stricken family were
helped down, and charitably conducted to the great inn of St. George
and the Dragon ; where, with the help of sack-whey, warm beds,
and their remaining terrors, they got a hearty sweat, and were
somewhat composed by ten o'clock next morning. They then got
up, and, having breakfasted on a pot of milled chocolate, they
hurried to London without adventuring to send to the haunted
mansion for any change of clothes or linen ; for they would rather
have put on garments that had been dipped in the blood of Nessus,
than have touched any thing in a house in which, with the furni-
ture, plate, bedding, and other appurtenances, the devil, as they
conceived, had taken legal and full possession.
In truth, there was scarce an inhabitant of the whole town of
Hampstead who differed in opinion on this head ; insomuch that,
as day after day began gradually to shut in, all people who had
occasion to pass by the dwelling of the late ejected Mr. Snarle,
kept more and more aloof to the opposite side of the way, in
proportion as their apprehensions increased with the darkness. And
all things in the house remained as safe from depredation, as though
they had been guarded by a regiment of dragoons.
142 THE FOOL OF QUALITY.
The cats, in the mean time, lived plentifully and at free cost on
the cold meats which they found in the kitchen and larder ; and,
as the anguish of their tails was now no more remembered, they
kept undisturbed possession of their new acquisition; so that,
during their residence, not even a mouse was stirring.
As Mr. Fenton could not but be frequently apprised of these
prodigies and alarms that kept all Hampstead waking, and nightly
grouped every family into a single room ; he compared, in his own
mind, the discomfiture and banishment of the unfortunate Snarle,
with the circumstances of the provocation which Ned had received.
He found that all answered, as well in point of time, as to Ned's
natural imluckiness and talents of invention ; yet he could scarce
conceive how a child, little more than eight years of age, should be
capable of contriving mischiefs so formidable in their execution,
and so extensive in their consequences. Now Ned was so happy,
on this singular occasion, that nothing transpired ; wherefore, as
Mr. Fenton could produce no manner of proof, he was too delicate to
ask any questions on the case ; lest, on one hand, he should tempt
the boy into a lie, or, on the other, be obliged to chastise or check
him for faults that his generosity might induce him to confess.
Matters, therefore, with respect to Ned, preserved their state of
tranquillity ; though Mr. Fenton would often view him with an eye
of wonder and suspicion, and could hardly bring himself to believe
that a boy of his extraordinary genius should be no other by birth
than a beggar's brat. But here pardon me, Mr. Fenton, if I dissent
from your opinion. With humble deference to your judgment in
other matters, I conceive that an infant begot on a dunghill,
brought forth in a pigsty, and swathed with the rotten remnant
of the covering of an ass, may have talents and capacity above
the son of an emperor.
Friend. The singularity of your sentiments often strikes me
with astonishment. Do you really think in a way apart from all
other people? or is it a distinction that you affect? Here you set
yourself at fisticuffs with universal persuasion, with historical facts,
and with the experience as well as opinion of all ages. You seem
wholly to have forgot the circumstances that attended the birth
and discovery of Cyrus, of (Edipus, of Eomulus and Kemus, with a
thousand other instances ; whereby it is evident that the beauty,
prowess, and virtues of great and glorious ancestors naturally
devolve upon their offspring.
Author. The great Teutonic theosopher, Jacob Behmen, affirms,
that a father begets the soul as well as body of his child ; and this
strongly coincides with your judgment of the matter. All animal
nature also concurs in the same position; and the offspring of a
lion, an eagle, and an ass, invariably partake of the qualities of
their progenitors.
In the very early ages of mankind, when honour and empire,
precedence and station, were assigned to superior merit alone, to
prowess in the field, or wisdom in the council ; it is but natural
to suppose that the more immediate descendants of such heroes or
patriots inherited in a great measure the beauty, strength, genius,
THE FOOL OF QUALITY. 143
and disposition of those from whom they sprung. But some
thousands of years are now passed, my good sir, since all this matter
has been totally reversed, and the world affords but very rare
intances where washerwomen or shepherds, where a Catherine of
Russia, or Kouli-Kan of Persia, or Theodore of Corsica, by the
mere force of genius, have raised themselves from obscurity to
dominion. These instances also are very far from making any thing
in favour of your argument ; though, unquestionably, were you to
write their romance, you would, agreeaMe to your thesis, derive
their respective pedigree from the queens of "Utopia, or some
emperors in terra australis incognita.
When time was young, when men were respected and advanced
(as I said) according to their personal distinctions and accomplish-
ments, uncommon beauty, strength, and agility of body, informed
by superior genius and talents, were accounted genuine proofs of
a royal or noble descent; but in process of years, when art had
introduced luxury, and luxury had introduced corruption among
the great, a feeble distempered frame, informed by a perverse, pusil-
lanimous, and impatient temper, became an indication by no means
improbable of the genuine descent of a child of quality.
Friend. My dear friend, be cautious; to speak lightly or de-
gradingly of dignity and station does not become people of a
certain sphere.
Author. With all deference and due submission to those who sit
in the seat of Moses, or in the throne of Caesar, when we speak as
philosophers we should speak independent of vulgar prejudice.
I am not insensible of that internal respect which the world is
pleased to pay to external lustre. If one man acquires a crown,
another a red hat, and another a coronet, by means that deserved
the gibbet of Haman, they instantly become the presumptive
proprietors of I know not what catalogue of fine qualities and
accomplishments. Wherefore, as I am so singular, so perverse, or
so unhappy, as to differ from the judgment of so wise a world in
this matter, it is the more incumbent upon me to bring proofs that
are self-evident, at the same time that I treat so reverable a subject
with all possible delicacy.
In the first ages of ACOENS, when all that sustained the simple
nature of man lay open and in common, like light and air, as people
knew of nothing further that was to be had, they thought there
was nothing further to be desired. As they had no wishes, they
felt no wants; and neither pride, envy, covetousness, nor debauchery
could commence, before they contrived the distinctions of property
and materials of intemperance, and thereby contrived the causes
of quarrel and corruption.
But, as Horace say, " quum oppida coeperunt munire" when they
began to build and set out landmarks, to plough and to sow, to
spin and to weave, to handle the file and hammer ; in proportion
to the advancement of invention and arts, on necessity con-
venience arose, upon convenience elegance, upon elegance luxury,
new desires increased and multiplied with the means of gratifi-
cation; real wishes became the offspring of imaginary wants;
as those wishes waxed warm, the passions were enkindled; and
144 THE FOOL OF QUALITY.
the vices, lastly, grew in mathematical proportion to the growth
of the passions.
All histories, as well profane as sacred, in every age, in every
nation, and in every instance, bear unquestionable testimony to the
above state of facts ; and hence ensues the necessity of our growing
worse and worse, till the pinnacle of art shall put a limit to desire,
till invention shall be exhausted, and no longer prolific of new
wants and additional wishes in man.
But so long as untried allurements, so long as untasted pleasures,
so long as new objects can be set up to our imagination in our
eager pursuit after happiness on earth, our wishes will inflame our
impatience to reach the prize ; in proportion to that impatience
our endeavours will be exerted ; in proportion to such exertion, the
fences of law and morals will be broke through or trampled down ;
and in proportion to the insufficiency of moral restraints, all sorts
of fraud and violence, of licentiousness and corruption, of debauchery
and profligacy, must prevail throughout the world.
Friend. From what you say, I should conclude that people of
wealth, of station, and power are the least impassioned and the
most virtuous of all living : forasmuch as they are already in
possession of what their inferiors so earnestly continue to thirst,
and to chase, and to labour after. The great are above temptation,
the world has nothing further to exhibit for their seduction ; and in
this light also they are become the most respectable of all people.
Author. Whenever you can make it evident that, to humble the
spirit of man, you ought to place him in authority ; that, to con-
vince him of personal defaults and infirmities, you ought to enclose
him with sycophants and servile dependants ; that, to make him
temperate, you should seat him at the table of Lucullus ; and that,
to humanize his disposition, you should remove him as far as possible
from a sense of the miseries of his fellow-creatures ; when, to cure
a man of distempers incident to his nature, you would place him in
the midst of adventitious contagion then, and not till then, will
wealth, station, and power be productive of reformation and virtue
in man.
Your error lay in supposing that sensual appetite and spiritual
ambition would cease and abate on gratification or indulgence. But
this is not possible. The spirit of man is a deathless desire ; its
cravings cannot be satiated till it is possessed of some object that is
adequate to its nature ; and, as this world has no such object to
exhibit, gratifications only serve to provoke to further desire, or
finally to sink us into utter despondence. And this makes the moral
that was intended by the philosophers, when they fabled that the
son of Philip broke into a passion of tears on finding that no
more worlds remained for him to conquer.
Your pardon yet, I pray With respect to your opinion, that
the descendants of the mighty and the exalted inherit the qualities
and excellences of their progenitors, you speak as though this
earth, and all that was thereon, were invariably permanent ; where-
as the knowing-ones will tell you that the one and the other are
subject to annual, and even diurnal, revolutions.
Perhaps there is not a beggar or slave upon earth whose some
THE FOOL OF QUALITY. 145
time progenitor was not a prince or an emperor : perhaps there is
not a prince or emperor upon earth whose some time progenitor
was not a slave or a beggar. Have you, then, the discernment to
perceive in the beggar the lineaments of the prince, or in the prince
to retrace the lineaments of the beggar? You have not, sage sir.
I will tell you a story.
The Cardinal Campejus, or some such great cardinal, happened to
have a dispute with the Duke of Modena. Altercation rose high.
Do you know, says the prince in passion, that your father was no
better than my father's hog-herd? I know it full well, coolly
answered the cardinal ; and I am persuaded that, had your high-
ness been the son of my father, you would have continued of the
same profession to this day.
In such a world as this, all things are in perpetual change,
rotation, and revolution; it is nature's process. As the summer
and winter gradually succeed and encroach upon each other ; or as
the sun dawns and arises from darkness till he reaches the mid-day
fervour of his culminating beam, and thence declines till he sets in
utter gloom ; even so mighty nations, as well as families, have their
commencement, ascent, and summit, their declension, decay, and
period. The virtue of all nations and families begins in poverty,
thence arises to industry, genius, honour, perhaps to conquest and
empire there's their zenith ; but then comes on the load of pon-
derous wealth, that gradually weighs them down from this meri-
dian, to indulgence, sensuality, guilt, corruption, prostitution, slavery,
perdition.
Let us now, with the eye of philosophy, consider two men in the
most contrasted state that this world can admit suppose a king
and a beggar. Here the king is more highly fed and more gaily
clothed than the beggar ; but if these are advantages deserving
estimation, we behold both this luxury and lustre surpassed by the
bee in the garden, and the lily in the valley. Further, whatever
the native qualities of the king or beggar may be, independent
of the said external or personal distinction, we may, however, be
assured, that an education in the midst of sensuality and decep-
tion, of the exhibition of temptations and gratification of lusts, of
parasites and panders, obeisance and prostration, of corporal in-
dulgence and mental imposition, can be no very good friend to the
virtues.
If we carry the comparison further than this, we find the body of
the king to be as frail, as obnoxious to pains, disease, and in-
clemencies, even as naked, poor, and perishable, as that of a
beggar.
But if we take the eye of faith to see further than with that of
philosophy, we behold their souls alike immortal, of equal dignity
and extent; we see creatures resembling the Creator himself
breathed from his own spirit formed in his own image and
ordained to his own beatitude and eternity. Here all other dis-
tinctions fall away and lose their respect as an instant would do
in comparison of ages, or a molehill in comparison of yon boundless
expanse ; and here we find a beggar, whom the king himself is bound
to reverence as being the unquestioned heir of a KING, in coni-
L
146 THE FOOL OF QUALITY.
parison of whom all other kings are but as beggars. How utterly
vile and contemptible is all dignity and dominion to such an heir-
ship as this ! an heirship hourly approaching, perhaps just at hand,
when the magnificent ruin of man shall be rebuilt, when his weak-
ness shall put on power, his corruption put on glory, and his mortal
be wholly swallowed up of immortality !
Friend. I confess that, for once, you have convinced me. Give me
leave to proceed.
CHAPTER XI.
SOME time after this, Mr. Fenton privately took Ned into his
closet, and calling him a good boy, and giving him a few shillings to
buy playthings, desired him to give the best history he could re-
member of himself and his adventures before he met with Harry.
Sir, said Ned, the first thing that I remember of myself is my
going from house to house a-begging with my mammy. I dreamed
indeed that I was once in a fine house, and among fine people, but
I don't know where nor when ; and so I believe, as I say, it was
only a dream.
Do you remember your father, Ned? No, sir, I never had a
father that I know of. My mammy was very cross to me, and
used to take from me all the money and victuals that I begged, and
that was a great deal, for I never let people rest till they gave me
something. And so, sir, as I was saying, my mammy was very cross
to me, and used to half-starve me, and gave me a beating for every
hour in the day.
Did she teach you your prayers, Ned? No, sir, I believe she had
no prayers to teach me ; for she used to swear and scold sadly.
And so, sir, as I was telling you, we begged from house to house,
sometimes in a town and sometimes in the country, till the day she
ran away from me.
How came your mammy to run away from you, Ned? Why, sir,
we were begging in your town, and had got some halfpence, and
filled our bag. And so we heard a man shouting behind us, and
my mammy turned and saw him running after her very fast, and so
she threw down her great bag on the ground, and made the best
of her way to the next hedge, and got through it, sir ; and so I
never saw any more of her. Then, sir, I fell a-crying and roaring
terribly to be left alone, and to have nobody in the world who
would have any thing to say to me ; and I wished for my mammy
again, bad as she was to me ; and I strove to follow her through
the hedge, but was not able. And so I saw a great house on one
side, and I was very sad when I went to it : and there it was that
I met my own young master, and he put clothes upon me with his
own dear hands, and he took me to himself, and he is ever since so
kind to me that it troubles me very much ; for I can do nothing at
all for him, you know, sir, and that grieves me more than all the
world.
Well, Neddy, says Mr. Fenton, do not cry, my child. Be a good
THE FOOL OF QUALITY. 147
boy and mind your book, and be sure you tell no lies, nor do
mischief to any body ; and I will take care of you, and be a father
to you myself. But tell me, Ned, would you know the woman you
call your mammy, if you should see her again ? Yes, yes, sir ! cried
Ned. There was not a day of my life but she gave me reason to
remember her ; I should know her from all the world, if I was not
to see the face of her for a hundred years to come.
I find, Ned, you are not over fond of your mammy. No, indeed,
sir, answered Ned. I love Master Harry's little finger, and I would
love yourself if I dared, sir, better than a thousand such mammies
as mine was ; and that, I suppose, is very naughty ; for all good
children, they say, love their fathers and mothers. Well, Ned, says
Mr. Fenton, if you happen at any time to see her among the great
numbers of beggars that come to our door, don't you speak to her,
or show that you take the least notice of her ; but come and tell
me, or honest James in my absence, that we may take care of her,
and force her to confess whether she is in reality your mother
or not.
While Mr. Fenton was speaking, Andrew entered with tidings
that a chariot was overturned not twenty yards from the door, and
that he feared the people in it were much hurt. Mr. Fenton's
humanity was much alarmed at the news ; he ordered the servants
to follow him, and instantly hurried out to give all the assistance
he could to the strangers.
The chariot happened to be overturned by the slipping out of
one of the linen-pins that kept the wheel on the axle-tree. The
company had already got out. They were an agreeable young
couple, Mr. Fielding and his wife, who had come from London on
purpose to take an airing on the hill. Mrs. Fielding had suffered
nothing except from her fears ; but Mr. Fielding's right arm was
something bruised, by his endeavouring to preserve his lady in
the fall.
Mr. Fenton appeared the greatest sufferer of the three, and
addressed the strangers with a countenance that convinced them
how feelingly he was interested in their safety. He left Andrew to
have the chariot set to rights; and, having conducted his new
guests to his own house, he ordered up a bottle of sack and some
Naples cakes to the parlour.
When they were all seated, and the glass had gone round I find,
sir, said Mr. Fielding, that people are apt to be disgusted with
what they call accidents, and which may afterward turn out to
their greatest advantage. Perhaps I should never have known
what true humanity was, if our carriage had not been overturned
this day. If you knew all, said Mr. Fenton, with a tender blunt-
ness, you would be far from laying any humanity at my door ; since
I rejoice at an accident where the damage is all yours, and the ad-
vantage that arises from it is all my own.
I would hold fifty to one, cried Mrs. Fielding, that this is the
very Mr. Fenton we have heard so much about. Indeed, madam,
said Mr. Fenton, you surprise me much ; if I had the pleasure of
ever knowing you, there is something in that face I should not
have readily forgot.
L2
148 THE FOOL OF QUALITY.
No, sir, said Mrs. Fielding. I speak from information. I never
had the happiness of being known to you till now. We have a
fosterer in this village, Rose Jenkins, a poor widow, one of those
many persons you have down in your list. She was nurse to our
only child; while he lived and was with us, she was a constant
visitant, but as soon as soon as (Here Mrs. Fielding hesitated,
her lip trembled, and her eye glistened with a filling tear.) I say,
sir, as soon as a very sad affair happened, the poor woman came
near us no more. One day, as we were taking the air through
this town, I thought I saw a face that was familiar to me. I called
to the coachman to stop. It was my old nurse. She had a family
of small children, and had fallen sadly to decay before you came,
Mr. Fenton, to settle in the town. I chid her for becoming a
stranger to us. Ah, madam! said the kind creature the tears
bursting from her eyes how could I go near a place where every
thing would put me in mind of my dear lost child ? She still con-
tinued to weep and I wept for company 1 put a guinea in
her hand, and insisted on her coming to see us. She did so. It
was then, Mr. Fenton, that we learned your name and character ;
and you must expect the mortification, now and then, of hearing
a little of those many things that are spoken to your advantage.
I am sorry, madam, said Mr. Fenton, that my nothings should
be talked of, lest it should intimate that other people are less
ostentatious.
Mrs. Fielding was still affected by what she had been saying ;
and though Mr. Fenton wished to know what the sad affair was
at which she had hinted, he declined asking any questions, for fear
of renewing her affliction.
Mr. and Mrs. Clement had walked abroad, upon a visit, with their
pupil Harry ; so that Mr. Fenton and his friend Ned, with Mr. and
Mrs. Fielding, made the whole of the present company.
You are happily situated, sir, says Mr. Fielding. I blame myself,
and all others who have any independence, and yet live in the city.
Health, pleasure, and spirits are all for the country. Did any
poets or philosophers ever place their golden eras or golden scenes
amidst such a town as London ? A man can scarce be himself ; he
is confused and dissipated by the variety of objects and bustle that
surrounds him. In short, sir, I am like many others, the reverse
in persuasion of what I am in practice ; I live in a city, although I
detest it. It is true that I am fond of society and neighbourhood ;
but experience has shown me that London is not the place in which
I can enjoy it.
No, sir, said Mr. Fenton ; if I was a lover of solitude, if I wished
to be the most recluse of all anchorites that bid adieu to the com-
merce of mankind, I would choose London for my cell. It is in
such a city alone that a man may keep wholly unknown and un-
noticed. He is there as a hailstone amidst a great shower ; he
jumps and bustles about a while, then lies snug among his fellows,
without being any more observed than if he were not upon earth,
till he melts away and vanishes with the rest of his fraternity.
I am not for a cell, sir, replied Mr. Fielding. I love society, but
yet a society that is founded on friendship ; and people in great
THE FOOL OF QUALITY. 149
cities are so divided and dissipated by the multitude of soliciting
objects and acquaintance, that they are rendered incapable of a
particular attachment. I imagine, however, that in a well-peopled
and civilized part of the country, a man might make an election of
persons deserving his esteem, such as he would wish to live with in
a happy interchange of kind offices and affections. This, indeed,
is my plan for my remainder of life ; but the lawsuits, in which I
am at present involved, will not permit me to go in search of my
Utopia.
At law ! exclaimed Mr. Fenton ; then, sir, you are much to be
blamed, or much to be pitied.
I hope rather to be pitied than blamed, rejoined Mr. Fielding.
Four suits descended to me on the part of my own father, and three
on the part of the father of my wife ; and my adversaries, on all
sides, are such cocks of the game, that no overtures can induce
them to listen to any terms of compromise or accommodation.
If matters of wealth or property, said Mr. Fenton, are really
matters of valuable estimation in life, it is much to be lamented
that there is no place on earth wherein property can be said to be
fixed or ascertained. Throughout the regions of Mahomet and
Asiatic despotism, life and property are alike tenures at the will
of the ruler. Again, throughout the European continent, no man,
indeed no nation, can be assured of their possessions, exposed as
they are to the ambition and avarice of their almost perpetually
invading neighbours. Lastly, in these northern islands, whose de-
fence nature herself appears to have undertaken by a guardianship
of circling rocks and seas ; this does not however defend us from
intestine convulsions and changes. Think what a general change
of property has been made in Great Britain during the two very
late revolutions; I am told that, in a neighbouring country, the
alienation has been nearly universal; perhaps a third revolution
is also at hand.
It is affirmed that the civil constitution of England is the best
calculated for the security of liberty and property of any that ever
was framed by the policy of man ; and originally, perhaps, it might
have been so, when twelve simple and impartial men were appointed
for the speedy trial and determination of life and property.
Our ancestors, unquestionably, were at that time unblessed by
the liberal and learned profession of the long robe ; they would not
otherwise have committed the disposition of property (a matter
held so much more valuable than that of life) to a few men, who
could have no virtue under heaven to recommend them, save the
two illiterate qualities of common sense and common honesty.
Those were ages of mental darkness, and no way illumined, as
we are, by those immense and immaculate volumes of refined and
legal metaphysics that now press the shelves of the learned, and
are read with such delight. A man in those times had no play for
his money; he was either stripped or enriched of a sudden.
Whereas now, in the worst cause, hope is left during life ; and hope
is said to be the greatest cordial in this vale of human controversy.
It is greatly to be lamented that the learned in our laws are not
as immortal as the suits for which they are retained. It were
150 THE FOOL OF QUALITY.
therefore to be wished that an act of parliament might be especially
passed for that purpose ; a matter no way impracticable, considering
the great interest those gentlemen have in the House. In truth, it
seems highly expedient that an infinity of years should be assigned
to each student of the belles lettres of our laws, to enable them to read
over that infinity of volumes which have already been published ;
to say nothing of the infinity that are yet to come, which will be
held equally necessary for understanding the profession, of critically
distinguishing and oratorically expatiating on law against law, case
against case, authority against authority, precedent against pre-
cedent, statute against statute, and argument against reason.
In matters of no greater moment than life and death, juries, as
at the beginning, are still permitted to enter directly on the hearing
and decision ; but in matters so sacred as that of property, our
courts are extremely cautious of too early an error in judgment.
In order, therefore, to sift and boult them to the very bran, they
are delivered over to the lawyers, who are equally the amrmers and
disputers, the pleaders and impleaders, representers and misrepre-
sented, explainers and confounders of our laws ; our lawyers, there-
fore, maintain their right of being paid for their ingenuity in putting
and holding all properties in debate. Debated properties conse-
quently become the properties of the lawyers, as long as answers
can be given to bills, or replies to answers, or rejoinders to replies,
or rebutters to rejoinders ; as long as the battledores can strike and
bandy, and till the shuttlecock falls of itself to the ground.
Soberly and seriously speaking, English property, when once
debated, is merely a carcase of contention, upon which interposing
lawyers fall as customary prize and prey during the combat of the
claimants. While any flesh remains on a bone, it continues a bone
of contention ; but so soon as the learned practitioners have picked
it quite clean, the battle is over, and all again is peace and settled
neighbourhood.
It is worthy of much pleasantry and shaking of sides to observe
that, in intricate, knotty, and extremely perplexing cases, where the
sages of the gown and coif are so puzzled as not to know what to
make of the matter, they then bequeath it to the arbitration and
award of two or three plain men ; or, by record, to the judgment of
twelve simple honest fellows, who, casting aside all regard to the
form of writs and declarations, to the lapse of monosyllables, verbal
mistakes and misnomers, enter at once upon the pith and marrow
of the business, and in three hours determine, according to equity
and truth, what had been suspending in the dubious scales of
ratiocination, quotation, altercation, and pecuniary consideration,
for three-and-twenty years.
Neither do I see any period to the progress of this evil ; the
avenue still opens, and leads on to further mischiefs ; for the dis-
tinctions in law are, like the Newtonian particles of matter, divisible
ad infinitum. They have been dividing and subdividing for some
centuries past, and the subdivisions are as likely to be subdividing
for ever ; insomuch that law, thus divisible, debateable, and de-
layable, is become a greater grievance than all that it was intended
to redress.
THE FOOL OF QUALITY. 151
I lately asked a pleasant gentleman of the coif if he thought it
possible for a poor man to obtain a decree, in matter of property,
against a rich man. He smiled, and answered according to scripture,
that " with man it was impossible, but that all things were possible
to God." I suppose he meant that the decrees of the courts of
Westminster were hereafter to be reversed.
Perhaps, sir, said Mr. Fielding, neither our laws nor our lawyers
are so much to blame, as the people who apply to them for pro-
tection, for justice, satisfaction, or revenge. Might not the parties,
who adventure on the course of litigation, begin where they are
most likely to end their career, in the award of a few persons, or a
verdict of twelve neighbours ?
But the nature of man is prone to contention and quarrel. There
is a certain portion of yeast or fermentation in his mass, that will
have vent in some way ; and our courts of law are the most obvious
receptacles for the ebullitions of pride, avarice, envy, resentment,
and wrathfulness, the insolence of temper, and overflowings of
fortune.
Mr. Scruple, an attorney, a very singular man in his way, was
lately recommended to me as a person equally qualified for allur-
ing or compelling my litigating opponents to an accommodation ;
and he told me an exceeding pleasant story, as well respecting
the process and forms of our courts of law, as respecting the con-
tentious disposition of our neighbours.
Some time since, "Walter Warmhouse, a substantial farmer in
Essex, was advised by Sergeant Craw, that he had an unques-
tionable right to a certain tenement in the possession of Barnaby
Boniface, his next neighbour and gossip, who fattened by the dint
of good ale and good humour.
Barnaby, who equally hated debate and dry bowels, offered to
leave the matter in question to any honest neighbours of Walter's
own choosing; but Walter, proud of a weighty opinion and as
weighty a purse, rejected the proffered compromise with scorn,
and took a mortal aversion to honest Barnaby, because he refused
to surrender his possessions on demand.
Walter Warmhouse accordingly began the attack in form ; but
Mr. Scruple, who had the uncommon conscience to remember that
Barnaby had once recovered his purse from a highwayman, de-
termined as far as possible to preserve the property of his old
friend. For this purpose he kept warily and cheaply on the de-
fensive; and, while he held a watchful eye over the motions of
the adversary, he followed him close through a thirteen years'
labyrinth of law-forms; and, what with exceptions to bills and
replies, expensive commissions for examination of witnesses, de-
murrer, imparlance, and essoign, with hearings and re-hearings,
defer of issue thereon, costs of suit and costs of office, he pretty
nearly exhausted both the purse and the patience of the valorous
plaintiff, Walter Warmhouse. Whereupon his prudent patron,
the good Sergeant Craw, deemed it high time to consent to a
motion for referring the case to the arbitration and award of
certain umpires, though not of his client's choosing, as at first
proposed.
152 THE FOOL OF QUALITY.
Soon after this order, Sergeant Craw had occasion to travel to
the farther parts of Essex, and his road led to the concerns of
his old client, Walter Warmhouse. Here Walter happened to
meet him, and warned him of the manifold dangers of the way,
and of the numbers of thieves and highwaymen that infested the
passages that lay just before him. And pray, then, very smoothly
says the sergeant, is there no way through your fields, Mr. Warm-
house? There is, sir, said Warmhouse, as good as any in Eng-
land. And may I not be permitted to pass ? Most safely, and a
thousand welcomes.
Hereupon client Warmhouse opened the gate that led from the
road into the fields, and in issued the equipage of his learned
advocate and kind patron.
Goodman Warmhouse was mounted on a round, ambling nag,
and rode much at his ease by the chariot of his malefactor. They
chatted, as they went, about the prices of cattle and improvement
of lands, the fall and rise of grain, the necessity of industry, and,
above all, of the advantage of good enclosures, which, as the
sergeant observed, were emblems of the English laws, and secured
every man's property from question or encroachment.
While thus they beguiled the way, Walter led his respectable
patron through this field and that field, and through yon gate
and the other gate, and now went ahead like a fox, and now
doubled like a hare ; till, having mazed it and circled it for the
space of three hours, he finally conducted the sergeant to the
very gate at which he had first entered.
How, how ! exclaims the sergeant, methinks we are just where
we set out ; we have not gained an inch of ground by the many
miles we have travelled !
Quite as much, replied Walter, in a journey of three hours, as
your honour gained for me in a journey of thirteen years ; and I
leave you as you left me just where you found me.
Your story, cried Mr. Fenton, is as pleasant as it is apt ; and
reminds me of an observation made by Henry IV. of France, that is
equally pertinent to the subject.
A certain judge of a court of law in that kingdom had grown
aged on the bench, and honoured by the innumerable sentences
which he had passed, and which were all deemed conformable to
the most perfect measure and dispensation of equity. The gainers
of the several suits applauded his discernment and justice to the
skies, and even the losers allowed that they had no right to com-
plain. The fame of his wisdom and integrity reached the throne.
The monarch was curious to see and judge of so peculiar a cast
and character, and he sent for him under colour of thanking him
for the great honours which he had done to his regency.
After a most gracious reception, and some compliments at the
levee, the prince took him apart, and in confidence said :
"My lord judge, the infinite complaints that come before me
from all parts of the kingdom, respecting the erroneous or
iniquitous sentences daily passed by your fraternity, cast the
highest lustre on the singularity of your conduct, and give me an
eager curiosity to know by what measures you have been enabled
THE FOOL OF QUALITY.
153
to content all parties. I adjure you, then, by all that you re-
verence, to disguise nothing from me on this head. You have not
any thing to fear from my censure of means that have proved
so very successful, and you have all things to hope from my
approbation."
The judge thereupon cast himself at the feet of his prince, and
rising, addressed him thus :
" To you, my sovereign, as to heaven, I will open my whole soul.
In the first place, in order to enable myself to give a guess whether
the judgments to be pronounced might be right or wrong, I gave
all possible attention to the merits of each case during the
process ; I daily took minutes of the pleadings on either side ; I
enlarged and commented on those minutes while matters were
fresh in my memory ; and I never interrupted any cause till it
had run itself out of breath through the circuit of forms and due
course of law.
" In the next place, may it please your majesty, I never took
bribe or present of any land, or from any hand, lest favour or incli-
nation should insensibly tempt me to cog, or give a partial turn
to the final cast.
" Thus prepared, as soon as matters were ripe for a decree that
is to say, as soon as the respective lawyers had agreed among them-
selves that nothing more was to be said, or any thing more to be
got, on either side of the question I summoned up the repugnant
merits so equally and impartially, with respect to circumstance,
evidence, and ordinance of law, as induced both parties, now
wearied and wishing for rest, to think that the decree must in-
evitably be given against themselves; and, having appointed a
certain hour for uttering the fatal sentence, I got up under visible
concern and retired.
"From the bench, so please your graciousness, I withdrew to
my closet; and, having locked myself up, I called upon my tutelary
and never-erring directors in the solution of all knots and un-
winding of all intricacies. In short, I went to a little drawer and
took out my box and dice."
"Box and dice!" exclaimed the monarch, half starting from his
seat.
" Yes, sire," replied the judge ; " I repeat it, box and dice. And
if your majesty will be pleased to attend for a few moments, I trust
to convince you of the propriety of this proceeding.
" Humanum est errare. This, my liege, is a maxim that has never
yet been controverted by precept or by practice ; and it is as much
as to say that life is a mere labyrinth of errors, in which all men are
appointed to travel and to stray.
"Nothing save number and measure is yet determined upon
earth nothing is certain, save that two and two make four, and
that lines are equal, or differ according to their dimensions.
"All men, further than this, depend upon reason as their en-
lightener and director in the search of truth ; and yet reason itself
has nothing whereon it may rest or depend. It first doubts, and
then proceeds to examine ; it calls in evidence and arguments on
this side and on that side, pro and con; it compares, canvasses,
154 THE FOOL OF QUALITY.
and discusses ; sifts and boults matters, suppose to the very bran ;
it endeavours to poise the scales of its own uncertainty, and now
recovers some lapsed circumstance and casts it into this scale, and
again throws some new proof or discovery into that scale, and so
changes its opinion from day to day ; while prejudice and partiality
stand invisibly at its elbow, and at length determine the long-sus-
pended balance by casting their own weights into one scale or other,
according as interest or pleasure would wish to preponderate.
"Truth, so please your supremacy, has been sunk in so very
deep a well as to mock the five-inched fathom of mere human ra-
tiocination, whether it be a dealer or retailer of physics or meta-
physics ; of the distinctions in law, or the distinctions in philosophy;
and I flatter myself that I alone, the least and most unlikely of all
your majesty's subjects, have hit upon a method for fishing up
truth, by a line which I acknowledge is not of my own twisting.
" Within my memory, and nearly within that of your majesty,
particular laws have been in force for trial by combat, and trial by
ordeal ; and though at present those laws are held to have been
iniquitous and wholly absurd, they could not have been instituted
without just and ponderous reasons. They related, my liege, as my
sentences do, to the interposition of Providence in the Jewish lots,
whereby all doubts, however general, could be speedily ascertained;
where the nation drew lots according to tribes, the tribes accord-
ing to families, and the families by individuals, till the criminal
was detected.
"Thus, in trial by combat, I have known and read manifold
instances, wherein guilty courage and prowess have been foiled by
the weak and fearful ; and, in trial by ordeal, heaven never failed
to guide the steps of the hood-winked innocent between the
narrow intervals of the burning ploughshares. And thus, con-
scious of my own infirmity and blindness, I have referred all my
decrees to a power of better discernment ; and he never failed to
determine according to truth."
" Indeed," said the monarch, " I cannot wholly disapprove your
method, when I reflect on your motive. And, according to your
account, when I think on the plague and anxiety, loss of time and
loss of fortune, to which my subjects are put by these professors of
the law, you have clearly convinced me, my good lord judge, that
it would be infinitely better to cast dice at the beginning, than to
give the most righteous judgment at the end of any lawsuit."
While the gentlemen were thus plunged in the bottomless gulf
of the law, Mrs. Fielding beckoned Ned to a remote part of the
room, and was greatly taken with his lively and innocent chat.
Pray, Mr. Fenton, said she, is this your son ? No, madam, said
Mr. Fenton, we know not to whom he belongs, poor fellow ; and
I am persuaded, from many circumstances, that he was stolen in
his infancy from his true parents.
Mrs. Fielding instantly coloured like scarlet ; and casting at her
husband an eager and animated look Gracious heaven! she ex-
claimed, who knows, my dear, but this may be our precious, our
lost and long-lamented boy, to whom Providence this day has so
wonderfully conducted us?
THE FOOL OF QUALITY. 155
Madam, said Mr. Fenton, it is thought that hundreds of children
are yearly spirited away from their parents, by gipsies, by beggars
to excite charity, and by kidnappers to carry to the plantations ;
but I hear of very few that ever have been restored, except in
romance. Pray, had you any particular memorandum or mark
whereby you would know him to be your child, on the presumption
of his being found ?
Alas ! no, sir, said Mrs. Fielding ; he was scarce two years old
when his nurse got leave to go and see a relation, the only visit,
poor woman, that she made from the time she took my child to the
breast. She left him in the care of the housemaid, who used to
caress him with particular tenderness. He stood with her at the
door ; some one called her in suddenly, but, quickly returning, my
child was gone !
Ah ! could the wretches who took him have guessed at the heart-
rending anguish which that loss cost me, it were not in the nature
of barbarians, of brutes, of fiends themselves, to have imagined a
deed of such deadliness. For three days and three nights life
hovered like a flame that was just departing, and was only retained
by my frequent and long swoonings, that for a time shut up all
sense and recollection. Neither do I think that my dear husband
suffered much less than myself, however he might constrain and exert
his spirits to keep up, as it were, some appearance of manliness.
We despatched criers throughout the city, and through all the
neighbouring towns, with offers of vast recompense to any who
should discover and restore our child to us ; and we continued for
years to advertise him in all the public papers. But, alas ! he must
have been taken by some very illiterate wretches who could not read,
and who never heard of the rewards that were offered ; their own
interest must otherwise have engaged them to return him. Pray,
Mr. Fenton, how did you come by this pretty boy?
Here Ned assisted Mr. Fenton to give a detail respecting him-
self of the circumstances already recited ; and Mr. Fenton men-
tioned the precaution he had taken for seizing his former mammy
if ever she should make her appearance.
If heaven should ever bless me with more children, said Mr.
Fielding, I have determined to fix some indelible mark upon them,
such as that of the Jerusalem letters, that in case of accident, I
may be able to discover and ascertain my own offspring from all
others. Such a precaution, said Mr. Fenton, is more especially
incumbent on those who send their children abroad to be nursed,
where it is practicable for fosterers to impose a living infant in the
place of one who has died ; or, by an exchange, to prefer a child of
their own to an inheritance : for the features of infancy generally
change to a degree that shortly leaves no trace of the original cast
of countenance; and it is common with parents to leave their
children at nurse for years, without seeing or renewing the memory
of their aspects.
Mr. Fenton, says Mrs. Fielding, will you give me your interest in
this sweet foundling? I will regard him as my own child; I will
be good to him for the sake of the one I have lost. Tell me, my
dear, will you come and live with me ? What say you, Ned, says
156 THE FOOL OF QUALITY.
Mr. Fenton, would you like to go and live with that lady? Oh,
sir ! cried Ned, could I find in my heart to leave Master Harry and
you, to be sure I would give the world to be with this dear lady.
So saying, he catched at her hand and pressed it eagerly to his lips.
Mrs. Fielding found herself surprised and agitated by this action;
and taking him in her arms, and repeatedly kissing him, the gush of
passion which she had some time suppressed broke forth, and she
shed a plenteous shower of tears upon him.
Word being now brought that the chariot was put to rights, and
at the door, Mr. and Mrs. Fielding took a tender farewell of Mr.
Fenton and Ned, and set off for London.
As we propose, after the manner of the celebrated Vertot, to drop
all the heavy and inanimate parts of our history, and to retain
nothing but the life and spirit thereof, we take the liberty to pass
over a few months, during which nothing material happened, save
that our Harry increased in stature, and in all personal and mental
accomplishments.
It was the latter end of August, the weather fair and pleasant,
when Harry issued forth to his little Campus martius, accompanied
by Neddy and the faithful James.
He was there met by his customary companions in arms ; and
they had nearly settled their courses and exercises for the evening,
when a young phenomenon of nobility made his appearance like
a phoenix among the vulgar birds, attended by two servants in
flaming liveries.
All the boys except Harry, and Ned who kept close to him,
immediately approached the glittering stranger, and paid their
respects with admiration and a kind of awkward obeisance, while
Harry eyed him askance with a half sullen and half disdainful
regard ; and, notwithstanding the native benevolence of his temper,
felt no kind of complacence in his bosom toward him.
The young nobleman, to make a parade of his wealth, and at the
same time to indulge his petulance of disposition, took a handful of
sixpences and shillings from his pocket, and throwing them among
the crew, cried A scramble, boys a scramble !
Hereupon a scuffle-royal instantly ensued. All of them, save
three, eagerly grappled at the pieces that had fixed their eye ; while
each, at the same time, seized and struggled with his fellow. Our
hero, meanwhile, observed all that passed with a distinguishing
attention. But, as the cause of quarrel was quickly conveyed from
sight, nothing worse happened than a few trips and boxes, to which
the parties had been accustomed, and therefore did not resent ; in-
somuch that my lord was wholly defeated of the benevolent
intention of his generosity, and looked upon himself as defrauded of
his coin.
To compensate this disappointment, and to make surer for the
future of his dearly beloved mischief, he took a crown-piece from his
pocket, and, holding it up to the full view of the assembly, he pro-
claimed it as the prize of victory between any two who should step
forth on the spot and engage in a boxing-match. At the word an
unknown champion sprung forward, instantly stripped, and chal-
lenged the field.
THE FOOL OF QUALITY. 157
This unknown had arrived but that very morning with his parents,
who came to settle at the village. He was by nature a very valiant
but very quarrelsome boy. He had, consequently, been engaged in
a number of occasional combats, wherein he had generally come off
victorious ; and this gave him as full an assurance of conquest as
though his brow had already received the wreath.
The stranger in bulk and stature exceeded the field, and no one
had yet offered himself an antagonist; when Harry stepping up,
thus addressed him in a gentle but admonishing accent :
I find, sir, you are a stranger ; you are therefore to be excused
for behaving amiss, as you are yet unacquainted with the laws of
this place. But I must now be so free to inform you, that whoever
quarrels here or boxes for money must afterwards take a turn with
me for nothing. As well before as after, briskly replied the ad-
versary ; but I scorn to take you at an advantage prepare yourself,
and strip ! You must first show me, rejoined Harry, that you are
worth stripping for.
The unknown instantly fired at what he held to be a boastful
insult, and leaping forward, aimed a punch at Harry's stomach with
all his force ; when Harry, nimbly catching the right wrist of his
adversary in his left hand, and giving him at the same instant a
sudden trip with his right foot, and a stroke across the neck with
his right arm, the strange hero's heels flew up, and his shoulders
and head came with a squelch to the earth.
As this unfortunate champion lay astonished, dismayed, and
wholly disqualified by his fall from further contention, Harry
generously stepped forward and offered to raise him. But, turning
from him, he painfully and slowly arose, and, muttering something
not intelligible, he walked away with a sullen but much abased
motion.
Harry's companions hereat began to set up a cry of triumph and
derision after the vanquished. But Harry suddenly stopped them,
and cried For shame, my friends ; he is a brave boy, and deserves
to be honoured, though a stranger to our ways, and I hope, in my
heart, that he may not be hurt, nor discouraged from coming among
us any more.
Our young nobleman meanwhile had observed all that passed, and
considered our hero with an envious and indignant attention ; when
Harry, calling to him the three boys who had declined to partake
of the scramble for my lord's money My good boys, cries he aloud,
you had the honour to refuse to quarrel, and tear your companions
and friends to pieces, for the dirty matter of a few sixpences, and
the first part of your reward shall be many sixpences.
So saying, he put his hand in his pocket, and, taking out three
crowns, made a present of one to each. Then feeling a secret touch
of self-approbation, he turned to my lord's servants, and addressed
them in an accent and with an action rather too highly elevated :
Go, he cried, my friends; take your young master home to his
father and mother, and tell them from me, that since they have
already made him a lord, I wish the next thing they do would be
to make him a GENTLEMAN !
What, you scoundrel ! cried my lord ; do you tell me to my face
158 THE FOOL OF QUALITY.
that I am not a gentleman ? and flying instantly at Harry, he gave
him a smart stroke on the left cheek. Harry had just begun to
recollect his error ; but, being- again kindled to quick resentment,
he half repressed and half enforced a sudden punch which he
reached at the nose of his lordship, who, giving a scream, fell back-
ward, and measured his length on the field.
The two servants immediately stooped to raise their bleeding
master ; and one of them, highly exasperated to see his lord in that
condition, turned furiously upon Harry in order to chastise him.
But Jack Freeman, his fellow-servant, straight caught him by the
arm, crying Hold ! Patrick hold ! Kemember fair play and Old
England !
So saying, he suddenly stooped, catched at our hero's hand, and
pressed it warmly to his lips, and cried O, my noblest child, how I
envy the happiness of those who serve you ! then turning he took
his lord by the hand, and straight led him away from the field
of battle.
Friend. Apropos to your turning a lord into a gentleman. When
your hero gave that just, though over- haughty reproof to the
insolence and petulance of the gay stranger, had he not a clear
conception of the character of your true gentleman?
Author. If he had not a positive, yet you see he had a negative
apprehension of the matter. If he could not say what it was to be
yet he could tell you what it was not to be a gentleman ; and
he clearly perceived that neither finery, grandeur of equipage, title,
wealth, superior airs, aifectation of generosity neither a mischief-
making temper, nor a taking delight in the broils, conflicts, passions,
and pains of others, were any constituent qualities in this venerable
character.
Friend. I beseech you then, at this interval, to satisfy my im-
patience, and to make good your promise, that you would give me
a detail of the qualities that entitle a man to this supreme of
denominations.
Author. That perhaps may be done with better effect to the
understanding as well as the heart, by instancing and exemplify-
ing, rather than defining.
The greatest of great poets, in his character of Hector, has given
us the lineaments of the first and most finished gentleman that we
meet in profane history, admirably and amiably instanced in his
attachments to his country, in his filial affections, in his conjugal
delicacies, in his paternal feelings, in his ardour for his friends,
in his humanity to his enemies, and even in his piety to the gods
that he worshipped, (no deduction from his courage, according to
ancient arithmetic !)
Some time after the battle of Creasy, Edward the Third of
England, and Edward the Black Prince, the more than heir of his
father's renown, pressed John King of France to indulge them with
the pleasure of his company at London. John was desirous of
embracing the invitation, and accordingly laid the proposal before
his parliament at Paris. The parliament objected, that the invi-
tation had been made with an insidious design of seizing his person,
TEE FOOL OF QUALITY. 159
thereby to make the cheaper and easier acquisition of the crown,
to which Edward at that time pretended. But John replied with
some warmth That he was confident his brother Edward, and more
especially his young cousin, were too much of the GENTLEMAN to
treat him in that manner. He did not say too much of the king,
of the hero, or of the saint, but too much of the GENTLEMAN to
be guilty of any baseness.
The sequel verified this opinion. At the battle of Poictiers King
John was made prisoner, and soon after conducted by the Black
Prince to England. The prince entered London in triumph, amid
the throng and acclamations of millions of the people. But then
this rather appeared to be the triumph of the French king than
that of his conqueror. John was seated on a proud steed royally
robed, and attended by a numerous and gorgeous train of the
British nobility; while his conqueror endeavoured, as much as
possible, to disappear, and rode by his side in plain attire, and
degradingly seated on a little Irish hobby.
As Aristotle and the Critics derived their rules for epic poetry
and the sublime, from a poem which Homer had written long be-
fore the rules were formed or laws established for the purpose ; thus,
from the demeanour and innate principles of particular gentlemen, art
has borrowed and instituted the many modes of behaviour which
the world has adopted under the title of good manners.
One quality of a gentleman is that of charity to the poor ; and
this is delicately instanced in the account which Don Quixote gives
to his fast friend, Sancho Pansa, of the valorous but yet more pious
knight-errant, Saint Martin.
On a day, said the Don, Saint Martin met a poor man half-naked,
and, taking his cloak from his shoulders, he divided it and gave him
the one half. Now, tell me at what time of the year this happened?
Was I witness? quoth Sancho ; how the vengeance should I know
in what year, or what time of the year, it happened? Hadst
thou, Sancho, rejoined the knight, any thing within thee of the
sentiment of Saint Martin, thou must assuredly have known that
this happened in winter ; for, had it been summer, Saint Mai-tin
would have given the whole cloak.
Another characteristic of the true gentleman is a delicacy of be-
haviour toward that sex whom nature has entitled to the protection,
and consequently entitled to the tenderness, of man.
The same gentleman-errant, entering into a wood on a summer's
evening, found himself entangled among nets of green thread, that
here and there hung from tree to tree ; and, conceiving it some
matter of purposed conjuration, pushed valorously forward to break
through the enchantment. Hereupon some beautiful shepherdesses
interposed with a cry, and besought him to spare the implements
of their innocent recreation. The knight, surprised and charmed
by the vision, replied Fair creatures ! my province is to protect,
not to injure ; to seek all means of service, but never of offence,
more especially to any of your sex and apparent excellences. Your
pretty nets take up but a small piece of favoured ground ; but did
they enclose the world, I would seek out new worlds whereby I
might win a passage rather than break them.
160 THE FOOL OF QUALITY.
Two very lovely but shame-faced girls had a cause of some
consequence depending at Westminster, that indispensably required
their personal appearance. They were relations of Sir Joseph
Jekyl, and on this tremendous occasion requested liis company
and countenance at the court. Sir Joseph attended accordingly ;
and the cause being opened, the judge demanded whether he was
to entitle these ladies by the denomination of spinsters? No, my
lord, said Sir Joseph, they are lilies of the valley ; they toil not,
neither do they spin ; yet you see that no monarch, in all his glory,
was ever arrayed like one of these.
Another very peculiar characteristic of a gentleman is the giving
place, and yielding to all with whom he has to do.
Of this we have a shining and affecting instance in Abraham,
perhaps the most accomplished character that may be found in
history, whether sacred or profane.
A contention had arisen between the herdsmen of Abraham and
the herdsmen of his nephew, Lot, respecting the propriety of the
pasture of the lands wherein they dwelt, that could now scarce
contain the abundance of their cattle ; and those servants, as is
universally the case, had respectively endeavoured to kindle and
inflame their masters with their own passions.
When Abraham, in consequence of this, perceived that the
countenance of Lot began to change toward him, he called, and
generously expostulated with him as followeth
" Let there be no strife, I pray thee, between me and thee, or
between my herdsmen and thy herdsmen: for we be brethren.
If it be thy desire to separate thyself from me, is not the whole
land before thee ? if thou wilt take the left hand, then I will go
to the right ; or if thou depart to the right hand, then I will go to
the left."
Another capital quality of the true gentleman is, that of feeling
himself concerned and interested in others. Never was there so
benevolent, so affecting, so pathetic a piece of oratory exhibited
upon earth, as that of Abraham's pleading with God for averting
the judgments that then impended over Sodom. But the matter
is already so generally celebrated, that I am constrained to refer
my reader to the passage at full ; since the smallest abridgment
must deduct from its beauties, and that nothing can be adued to
the excellences thereof.
Honour, again, is said in scripture peculiarly to distinguish the
character of a gentleman ; where it is written of Shechem, the son
of Hamor, " That he was more honourable than all the house of
his father."
This young prince, giving way to the violence of his passion, had
dishonourably deflowered Dinah, the daughter of Jacob. But his
affections and soul cleaved to the party whom he had injured.
He set no limits to his offers for repairing the wrong. " Ask me,"
he said to her kindred, " ask me never so much dowry and gift,
and I will give according as ye shall say unto me ; but give me
the damsel to wife."
From hence it may be inferred, that human excellence or human
amiableness doth not so much consist in a freedom from frailty, as in
THE FOOL OF QUALITY. 161
our recovery from lapses, our detestation of our own transgressions,
and our desire of atoning by all possible means for the injuries
we have done, and the offences we have given. Herein, therefore,
may consist the very singular distinction which the great apostle
makes between his estimation of a just and of a good man. For
a just or righteous man, says he, " one would grudge to die ; but
for a good man, one would even dare to die." Here the just man is
supposed to adhere strictly to the rule of right or equity, and to
exact from others the same measure that he is satisfied to meet ;
but tho good man, though occasionally he may fall short of justice,
has, properly speaking, no measure to his benevolence ; his general
propensity is to give more than the due. The just man condemns,
and is desirous of punishing, the transgressors of the line prescribed
to himself; but the good man, in the sense of his own falls and
failings, gives latitude, indulgence, and pardon to others ; he judges,
he condemns, no one save himself. The just man is a stream that
deviates not to the right or left from its appointed channel, neither
is swelled by the flood of passion above its banks ; but the heart of
the good man, the man of honour, the gentleman, is as a lamp
lighted by the breath of God, and none save God himself can
set limits to the efflux or irradiations thereof.
Again, the gentleman never envies any superior excellence ; but
grows himself more excellent, by being the admirer, promoter, and
lover thereof.
Saul said to his son Jonathan, " Thou son of the perverse rebel-
lious woman! do not I know that thou hast chosen the son of
Jesse to thine own confusion ? for as long as the son of Jesse liveth
upon the ground, thou shalt not be established, nor thy kingdoms ;
wherefore send and fetch him unto me, for he shall surely die."
Here every interesting motive that can possibly be conceived to
have an influence on man, united to urge Jonathan to the destruc-
tion of David : he would thereby have obeyed his king, and pacified
a father who was enraged against him; he would thereby have
removed the only luminary that then eclipsed the brightness of his
own achievements ; and he saw, as his father said, that the death
of David alone could establish the kingdom in himself and his
posterity ; but all those considerations were of no avail to make
Jonathan swerve from honour, to slacken the bands of his faith,
or cool the warmth of his friendship. O Jonathan! the sacrifice
which thou then madest to virtue was incomparably more illustrious
in the sight of God and his angels, than all the subsequent glories
to which David attained. What a crown was thine, " Jonathan,
when thou wast slain in thine high places ! "
Saul of Tarsus, afterwards called Paul, had been a man of
bigotry, blood, and violence ; making havoc of, and breathing out
threatenings and slaughter against all who were not of his own
sect and persuasion. But when the spirit of that Infant, who laid
himself in the manger of human flesh, came upon him, he acquired
a new heart and a new nature ; and he offered himself a willing
subject to all the sufferings and persecutions which he had brought
upon others.
Paul, from that time, exemplified in his own person all those
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162 THE FOOL OF QUALITY.
qualities of the gentleman which he afterwards specifies in his
celebrated description of that charity, which, as he says, alone
endureth for ever.
When Festus cried with a loud 'voice, " Paul, thou art. beside
thyself, much learning doth make thee mad ; " Paul stretched the
hand, and answered, " I am not mad, most noble Festus ; but speak
forth the words of truth and soberness. For the king knoweth
of these things, before whom also I speak freely ; for I am per-
suaded that none of these things are hidden from him. King
Agrippa, believest thou the prophets? I know that thou believest."
Then Agrippa said unto Paul, " Almost thou persuadest me to be a
Christian." And Paul said, " I would to God that not only thou, but
also all that hear me this day, were not only almost, but altogether
such as I am except these bonds."
Here, with what an inimitable elegance did this man, in his own
person, at once sum up the orator, the saint, and the gentleman !
From these instances, my friend, you must have seen that the
character, or rather quality of a GENTLEMAN, does not in any de-
gree depend on fashion or mode, on station or opinion; neither
changes with customs, climates, nor ages. But as the Spirit of God
can alone inspire it into man ; so it is as God is, the same yesterday,
to-day, and for ever.
Friend. It is a standard whereby I propose, for the future, to
measure and judge of all my acquaintance. But let us return to
our little gentleman-monitor.
CHAPTER XIT.
NEVER did Harry feel himself so deeply mortified, so debased in
his own eyes, as when my lord's footman, in terms and with an
action so uncommonly respectful, had stooped and kissed his hand.
His heart, but just before, had whispered to him that the manner
in which he had admonished the young nobleman expressed more
of the pride and insolence of his own temper than any friendly in-
tention to reform the faults of another ; and he already began to
suspect that the manner in which he had dispensed his own bounty,
showed the same ostentation which he meant to reprove, and with
which he had been so highly offended in his lordship.
Thus disgusted with himself, and consequently with all about
him, he turned away from his companions, walked silent and home-
ward, and, passing softly through the hall, withdrew to his own
chamber.
James had followed Harry at such a distance as just to keep him
in sight, and entering where his master sat reading in the parlour,
Mr. Fenton inquired eagerly after his boy. James cast at his
master a look of much solemnity, and shaking his head in token of
concern Ah, sir! said he, I am sorry to tell you that Master
Harry, to-day, was not altogether so good a boy as I could have
wished. Indeed, I observe of late that at times he is apt to be
very sudden and passionate. I doubt, sir, we shall have woful doings
THE FOOL OF QUALITY. 163
by and by ; he has terribly abused and battered the son and heir
of the Earl of Mansfield, one of the worthiest noblemen in all
England. To be sure we shall have sad complaints against him.
I was present at all that passed ; and truly Master Harry was very
much in fault.
You delight me you transport me ! cried Mr. Fenton ; my only
affliction was that he had no faults. I want him to have faults
such faults as may make him feel them. But tell me minutely, as
particularly as you can, how this affair happened. James then gave
a special detail of what we have recited. Whereupon Mr. Fenton
exclaimed O, my noble, my generous, my incomparable boy!
Where is he ? Let me see him ! What is become of him ?
Upon inquiry, Mrs. Susan reported that she had seen him stealing
softly up-stairs. Mr. Fenton then, taking his book in his hand,
stole up after his Harry ; and, opening his chamber-door with the
least noise possible, saw him seated, in a dejected attitude, in a far
corner of the room ; and, looking attentively at him, perceived that
he had been in tears.
He thereupon took a chair, and gently seating himself beside
him What is the matter, my Harry ? he said ; what ails my love ?
Don't ask me don't ask me, sir ! cried Harry ; I dare not tell
you indeed I dare not. You would love me no longer ; you would
nate me if I should tell you. Hate you, my darling! cried Mr.
Fenton, that is quite impossible ; I can never hate you, my Harry.
But come, be free with your friend; tell me openly and honestly
for what do you think I should hate you ? For my faults, sir ; for
my faults. To be sure, there is not in the world so bad a boy as
myself; and, what is worse than all that, when I think and mean
to do better than ever, something comes in the way and spoils the
whole, and so turns all the good that is in me into nothing but
naughtiness.
Here Harry could contain no longer, but burst into a passionate
gush of tears and sobs ; and Mr. Fenton tenderly embracing him,
and taking him on his knee, and clasping him to his bosom, gave
way to the kindred emotion that swelled in his own breast, and
mingled his joyful tears with those of his Harry.
As soon as the passion of these two friends had subsided, Harry
began to take new courage from the caresses of his dear father, who,
as he sensibly felt, would never hate or forsake him, however he
might condemn and detest himself.
Well then, sir, says he, since you are so very good, I will trust
you with my story, so far as it has to say to the little that I can
remember of my faults in it.
You must know that I had no sooner got into your field that you
gave me for our plays than a young master came up to us, so grandly
dressed and attended, and with such a saucy air, that he seemed
to say in his own mind All these are but dirt in comparison of
myself.
As I looked at him, he brought to my mind the story you once
told me of Hercules, who was poisoned by his fine coat. So I began
to pity him, and, I believe, to despise him too ; and that, you know,
was not right ; for you told me that whoever despises another grows
M2
164 THE FOOL OF QUALITY.
worse than the one he despises, and falls below him, while he thinks
to set himself above him ; but that did not come into my head at
the time.
And so, sir, to show us all that he did not matter money, or that
he loved mischief the better of the two, he took out a handful of
silver and threw it among my companions, to set them by the ears ;
and this provoked and began to make me very angry with him;
and thus one fault brought me into another after it, like Water
my chickens come clock.
But this did not satisfy my young lord for they called him lord
but he must take out a crown, and offer it to any two of my
companions that would box for it. So a stranger that was just
come offered to box any one in the company for it ; but I do not
repent of my beating him, because he was the challenger.
But the worst is yet to come, sir. There were some of my com-
panions who refused to join in the scramble for the money, and
that pleased me very much ; and so, to reward them, I took out
a handful of money and gave them a crown apiece. But, you know,
I need not have taken out more money than I meant to give them,
if it was not partly to show my lord that I had as much money as
himself; and so I got myself up to the head and ears in the very
same fault that I found with him.
Now comes the worst of all. For, growing proud and conceited,
as if I had no one fault in the world, and as if the like of me was
only fit to reprove others and teach them their duty, I desired the
fine master to take himself home, and, since he was a lord, to learn
also to be a gentleman. Upon that he gave me a blow, which I
deserved very well ; but I did not matter his blow a fillip if I had
not thought it an affront before my companions. So my passion
began to rise, and I gave him half a stroke, but unluckily it hit him
full in the nose, and I am afraid he is hurted very sadly.
Besides all, father, I know well enough there will come sad com-
plaints against me, and so I shall bring trouble and disturbance
upon you ; and that is grief upon grief.
Do not fear for me, Harry, I shall do well enough, says Mr.
Fenton. But, Harry, you have not told me near as great news as
you thought to do. I knew all along that you had a very naughty
boy within you ; but I forbore to tell you so, because I rather
wished you should make the discovery yourself; and now, God be
praised ! you have found out the secret.
And what good will it do me, sir, to know that I am bad, when
I do not know how to make myself better? for to-day I thought
and meant to be very good, and yet found myself in the end to be
worse than ever. But as you say, to be sure I have been very bad,
though I hardly knew any thing of the matter till now. I now re-
member how I had like to murder poor Mr. Vindex with the sword,
and a hundred other things if I could bring them to mind. "What
shall I do then, sir oh ! what shall I do to grow good ?
I will tell you, my Harry, says Mr. Fenton. And as you have
generously intrusted me with one secret, that of having a very bad
boy within you ; it is but fair that I should intrust you with another
secret, which is that of having an exceeding good boy within you.
THE FOOL OF QUALITY. 165
What, two boys in one, sir, how can that be ? It is even so, my
darling ; you yourself told me as much. Did you not say that, this
very day, the one was struggling and fighting within you against
the other? that the one was proud, scornful, ostentatious, and
revengeful ; the other humble, gentle, generous, loving, and for-
giving? and that when the bad boy got the better, the good boy
took him to task, and reprimanded and severely rebuked him, and
made him cry bitterly?
What you say, indeed, sir, is something very like it ; only I can-
not think how one boy can be two boys. Do you remember, Harry,
what you read last night in the Old Testament about Bebekah, the
wife of Isaac, when she was with child ? Yes, very well, sir. As
how she was with child with twins, "and the children struggled
together within her ; and she said, If it be so, why am I thus ? and
she went to inquire of the Lord." Very right, my love ; and I now
say to you what God then said to Rebekah. I do not mean that
you have two boys within you, of the bodily bulk, features, and
shape of yourself; but that you have two different spirits or prin-
ciples within you, which, like Esau and Jacob, have quite different
and adverse natures, inclinations, and desires ; the one prompting
and hurrying you into all that is evil, the other inviting and leading
you into all that is good. So you see, Harry, and you have felt
that, like Eebekah, you have your own Esau and your own Jacob
struggling within your bosom: and the war between them shall
never cease, till the one shall have wholly conquered and subjected
the other.
To make this matter plainer and clearer to you, my darling, I
will tell you a pretty story out of the book that is in my hand.
Cyrus was a king and a great conqueror, but in his private
capacity a very virtuous man. On a day, some of his captains, just
returned from an expedition, informed him that they had brought
him the greatest wonder in the world, a young princess called
Panthea, whom they had taken captive, and whose charms exceeded
all that could be imagined of woman.
Cyrus, as I told you, was virtuous. He was already married;
and he dreaded running the risk of being seduced from his honesty
by the dangerous allurements of this enchanting beauty. He there-
fore obstinately, though reluctantly, forbid her approach; and
denied himself the pleasure he might have taken in beholding her.
His own honour, however, and the respect due to the quality and
accomplishments of the lady, demanded all possible attention and
precaution in her behalf. For this purpose he summoned his chief
captains and favourites. He asked which of them would adventure
to take the charge of this young beauty ; and he promised the highest
rewards to those who should honourably discharge their trust, but
threatened his deepest displeasure to any who should betray it.
All of them shrunk at the apprehension of taking upon them
the personal custody and care of a beauty, whom their great and
virtuous monarch had not even dared to look upon ; and no one
had offered to undertake this perilous commission till a valiant and
noble youth, named Araspes, stood forth.
From my infancy, O Cyrus ! said the graceful adventurer, I have
166 THE FOOL OF QUALITY.
been educated in the school, and brought up at the feet, of the
divine Zoroaster. I am accustomed from my childhood to combat,
conquer, and scorn all sensual seducers. I hold virtue in mine eye
as its only object ; my heart esteems and affects it as my only
good ; the nature thereof has become one with my nature ; and I
do not remember the time wherein I have been tempted to
deviate from rectitude, or sink beneath the calls of honour. I
cannot therefore but smile at the fear of my companions. Their
courage at a breach or in the field is unquestionable. I have seen
them face a thousand deaths ; I have seen them rush into dangers ;
and yet they dread the sight of a single and weakly female. For
me she can have no terrors, since I am out of the power and
reach of her allurements. I will undertake the charge of this for-
midable creature at the risk of my honour, at the risk of my life,
and more than all, at the risk of the favour of Cyrus.
Cyrus had long loved the person, and contemplated and admired
the virtues of this youth. He therefore, with joy and confidence,
committed the precious deposit to his trust ; in full assurance that
the person and honour of Panthea could nowhere be so safe as in
the protection of Araspes.
The young hero had in reality all the virtues that he boasted.
His education under so beloved and respectable a master ; his early
and long habit of opposing and rejecting the smallest incitement to
vice ; and the delights which he was accustomed to feel in the
sentiments and practice of what his judgment approved had in a
manner so wholly lulled his naughty self to sleep, that he did not
so much as dream that he had an enemy within him.
This, my Harry, was his heavy misfortune, and the sad occasion
of his fall. For, not knowing that his evil Esau was still alive in
his bosom ; not knowing that he had any one to oppose or to
struggle with he kept neither watch nor guard, and so lay naked
and open to the mischief that came upon him, as I am going to tell
you.
On his seeing the lady who was committed to his trust, he felt
no emotion nor sentiment save that of wonder, as in beholding the
most perfect of the works of his Creator ; and he took a pleasure
in providing that she should be treated and accommodated with
all possible attention and respect, as due to so accomplished and
pre-eminent a being.
As the nature of his commission gave him frequent occasion of
being near and about the person of his amiable ward, new beauties
grew daily visible and open to his eyes. But, above all, in con-
versing with her, the music of her accents and the elegance of her
sentiments fell insensibly on his soul, that drank them up as a dry
ground drinks up the invisible dew of the evening.
His occasions for attending her, and doing little offices and ser-
vices about her, now daily increased without seeming to do so.
"When he was called, and intended to go elsewhere, his feet imper-
ceptibly carried him to the presence of Panthea. His slumbers
were short, uneasy, and broken; and at meals he knew not
whether or on what he fed.
At length his eyes opened to the calamity of his condition. But
THE FOOL OF QUALITY. 167
at the moment wherein he perceived his love, he found himself
too far gone for the possibility of a return. He was as a mariner
who had haled his boat upon land, and, thinking himself secure,
had fallen asleep therein ; but while he slept, a spring-tide came
silently on and covered the shore, and gained upon the beach,
and swelled under the boat, and heaved it from land, and turning,
bore it farther and farther to sea. Then awakened the helpless
mariner, unprovided of sail or oar, or of any means to effect or
attempt a return. He saw his lost estatehe stretched his arms
towards the land ; but while he reached it with his eyes, he found
himself carried by an irresistible power still more and more distant
from the sight.
Thus fared it with the wretched, lost, fallen away Araspes. He
awakened to his condition he looked around, but found himself
helpless. He would have struggled he wished his return to
virtue ; but his wishes were sickly as feeble as a dream ; and he
felt himself borne away, by a secret and subtile force, from that
honour of which he now barely retained a distant prospect.
The imbosomed fire that preyed upon him at length became
insufferable, and he desperately determined to seek relief. He
threw himself at the feet of the object of his love, avowed the
ardour of his passion, and besought her pity.
The princess replied in a mild but resolute accent I do pity
you, Araspes ; I pity you the more, as it is all that my power can
ever do for you. Two insurmountable barriers oppose your desires
the one is my honour, the other my inclination. I am already
married to a young hero the prince and patron of his people the
most accomplished of his sex and an honour to human nature ;
he is my first and last love he possesses my heart wholly; but
were it emptied of him, it would not be emptied of its virtue,
and the thoughts of any other would be an offence to my soul.
Be advised then, Araspes, depart from temptation, and seek in
absence a cure for the indiscretion of your love.
Confused, astonished, speechless, Araspes lost at once the little
that remained to him of virtue and reason. He knew not what he
did he would have proceeded to violence, when the princess sud-
denly drew a poniard and pointed it at her bosom ; whereat
Araspes straight withdrew, overwhelmed with shame, disappoint-
ment, and despair.
As soon as he had retired, the princess took a little tablet,
whereon she inscribed the following words :
"To CYBUS.
" Your favourite has betrayed his trust ; he would have offered
violence. Think what is due to your own honour, as well as
that of "PANTHEA."
This she despatched to the monarch by one of her faithful
mutes. As soon as Cyrus had perused it, he sighed, and dropped
a tear, as over the departed virtue of his best beloved friend. He
instantly sent for Araspes. Araspes durst not disobey. He came,
indeed, but then he did not dare to look upward.
168 THE FOOL OF QUALITY.
After a silence on both sides, Cyrus cried out Whoever thou
art, account to me for my friend, account to me for his virtue a
virtue that I deemed to be impassible, unassailable. Whereupon
Araspes made the following most memorable of answers.
As you are but lately entered on your Greek, my Harry, I will
first read the passage to you, and then give you the sense of it,
word for word :
Avo, & Kt)pe (ra(pa>s e^o> ^v^as. Ov yap $rj ^ila ye ovaa, ap.a dyadrj
re can KOL KaKrj, ov8' a/ia KaXuv re KCU alvxpav epyow epa, KCU ravra.
a.fj,a /3ou\erai re KOI ov /SouXertu TrpdrTtiv. *AXXa drjXov on dvo ecrrov
^/v^a, KOI orav p.ev f) dyaOrj XP^ T H> Ka ^a irpa.TTf.rai, orav de f) Trovrjpa,
TO. alfT
" O Cyrus ! it is manifest that I have two souls ; for if I had
but one soul it could not be at once both good and evil not a
lover at the same time of what is honest and dishonest ; it could
not at once desire and be averse to the same thing. It is, there-
fore, most evident that we have two souls; and when the good
soul hath the dominion, good works are performed ; but evil works
when the evil soul predominates."
Here, Harry, you see there were two men in one man, which is
the same thing as there being two boys in you. For the soul is
the man, Harry ; and the body is but as a sign, to give notice to
others that such a man dwells within.
But, sir, says Harry, since, as you say and as I find, I have two
different boys or souls within me; pray, how came they to be
different? did the same God that desired to make the one soul
good, desire also to make the other soul evil?
Your question, my darling, is very proper, though very deep. I
will however endeavour, to the best of my power, to accommodate
my answers to the weakness of your capacity.
God, who is nothing but goodness, cannot possibly desire any
kind of evil; and therefore cannot be, immediately, the author
thereof. But he can make or create such poor little insignificant
beings as you and I are, Harry ; though all that God himself can
do in our behalf cannot possibly make us good, or excellent, or
perfect, any otherwise than by informing us with his own goodness
and perfections.
This would lead me, my love, to the unfolding that capital secret
of which you are not yet susceptible ; a secret upon which this
world, sun, moon, and stars, with all the worlds upon worlds that
lie beyond them, depend and hang, as your hat would hang upon
yonder nail.
The angels that are now in heaven are great, good, perfect, and
glorious beings ; because they are filled with the greatness, good-
ness, glory, and perfection of God. For they know that of them-
selves they are nothing ; and that in themselves they are no other
than empty and dark creatures, mere sensible capacities prepared
for the reception, the feeling, and enjoyment of the light, virtue,
and blessedness of their bountiful Creator.
How the spirit of man came to be, in itself, so much worse than
THE FOOL OF QUALITY. 169
an empty and dark creature ; how it came to be filled and polluted
with all manner of evil, with selfishness, pride, covetousness,
abominable lusts, envy, hatred, malice, revengefulness, and wrath-
fulness ; how it further came to have a different spirit begotten
within it, informing its heart and turning the chords thereof to
sentiments of humility, charity, purity, love, patience, and peace
this, Harry, is the great secret, of which you are not yet capable ;
the secret, as I told you, whereon the world now hangs, whereby
it has been changed, and whereby it will be renewed.
In the meantime, let it suffice for you to feel and to know, that
your dark spirit, so filled as I said with evil, is yourself, my Harry
is all that you have of the creature within you ; and that the
good spirit, which is begotten within your evil spirit, is breathed
into you by the power and spirit of God himself, in order to
oppose and conquer the evil, and enlighten the darkness, and
purify the foulness of your selfish or creaturely spirit, that you
may finally become as the angels that are in heaven, filled with
the purity, glory, and blessedness of your God.
Know therefore from henceforward, and let the sense of it sink
into your soul, my darling, that all the evil which is in you belongs
to yourself, and that all^the good which is in you belongs to your
God : that you cannot, in or of yourself, so much as think a good
thought, or form a good wish, or oppose a single temptation or evil
motion within you. From hence learn to be humble, and to think
meanly of yourself, and not ascribe to yourself any kind of goodness
or virtue, for that would be sacrilege ; it would be to rob God of his
peculiar property of goodness. From hence further learn, never to
prefer yourself to others, or to think better of yourself than of any
one living ; for, so far as you are a creature, no one can be viler or
faultier than you are, however God may be pleased, through his
mercy and bounty to you, to be better in you than in others.
Never exalt yourself, my Harry; neither in company nor conversa-
tion of any kind say, I did this or I did that, or, I said this, or I
said that ; for in exalting yourself, you exalt your own proud and
evil spirit above the good and meek spirit of God that is in you.
Let all praise mortify and be a reproach to your conscience, but take
blame with patience and pleasure ; in so doing you will approve your-
self a lover of justice, as well as a lover of your own reformation.
Lastly, my love, turn your whole will and affections from your
own evil spirit, to the spirit of God that is in you ; for that is the
utmost that any man can do toward his own salvation. Eeject,
ppurn, and detest every motion to evil ; embrace, cherish, and take
to your heart every motion of good ; you will thereby acquire the
never-ending glory of having joined with God in the combat and
conquest that he is desirous of obtaining over all the guilt, unclean-
ness, and depravity, into which your nature is fallen.
Here Andrew came up with notice to his master that the Earl of
Mansfield was below, and requested to speak with him. At this
Harry coloured up, and cried Did not I tell you, sir, what trouble
I should bring upon you ? Do not be alarmed, my dear, says Mr,
Fenton ; do you stay here. If there is a necessity for your ap-
pearance, I will send you word.
170 THE FOOL OF QUALITY.
The father of young Lord Bottom was in every respect the
reverse of his son. He had come on foot without attendants, was
dressed in a plain napped coat, and had the mien and appearance
of an honest country grazier.
My lord, says Mr. Fenton, I should think myself greatly honoured
by this visit, if I was not so much concerned at the occasion of it.
I am truly grieved that my son should have done such great offence
to young Lord Bottom. Sir, says the earl, I find you have quite
mistaken the intent of my visit ; I am come to thank your son for
the just and noble lesson which he gave to mine : and which he
has so forcibly impressed upon his memory, as will not, I trust,
permit him to forget it in a hurry. My lord, replied Mr. Fenton,
my little fellow is very sensible of his misbehaviour in this buisness.
He was the first to chide himself: and he told me the story, very
much, I assure your lordship, to his own disadvantage.
Mr. Fenton, rejoined the earl, after what I have heard of your boy
from one Jack Freeman, a very faithful and intelligent servant of
mine, I am quite impatient to see him, and there is nothing
generous which I am not willing to believe concerning him. My
wife, indeed, is not at all times in my way of thinking. She has
taken her young lord with her to town, to the doctor's ; and I am
concerned at the violence of the resentment which she expressed on
this occasion, as it may be a means of deferring that acquaintance
and intimacy which I heartily wish to cultivate with the family of
Mr. Fenton. But where is this wonderful boy? I request to
see him.
Harry, hereupon, was immediately called down. As he appre-
hended that he was sent for to be severely chidden, a little resentful
haughtiness arose in his mind, and strengthened it against the
violence of the reproofs that he expected. He therefore entered
with an air that no way favoured of mortification, and made but a
cold though solemn bow to the earl.
Bless me, exclaimed my lord, what a striking resemblance! I
never saw two faces or persons so much alike. There is no dif-
ference, Mr. Fenton, between you and your son, except what age
has made. Mr. Fenton smiled, and my lord continued. I always
had a notion that your heroes were huge fellows ; but here I think
we have got heroism quite in miniature. Can this be the one who,
as I am told, with a trip or a blow, overthrows and demolishes all
before him? Come to me, my dear, and give me leave to salute
you.
Harry respectfully approached ; and my lord, taking him in his
arms and warmly kissing him, said I thank you, my little man,
for the generous lesson which you gave to my very naughty boy ;
and for the difference which you taught him to make for the
future, between the sauciness of a lord and the sentiments of a
gentleman.
Harry felt himself at once disconcerted, abased, and wholly cut
down, by this compliment from his lordship. At length recovering
himself he answered You mean, to be sure, sir, to reprove me the
more by what you have said ; but, if you are in earnest, I am sure
it is a very bad lesson which you teach me, sir, when you praise me
THE FOOL OF QUALITY. 171
for my faults, and so encourage me in them. Faults ! my dear,
cried the earl, I heard of none such ; what do you mean by your
faults ? I mean, sir, that when I told your son as much as that he
was not a gentleman, it showed that I was still less of the gentle-
man myself ; and I very well deserved the blow which he gave me
for such an affront ; and I am ready to ask his pardon whenever
you please, my lord. No, no, my man, cried Lord Mansfield, you
shall never disgrace yourself so much as to make any submissions to
my naughty boy. I shall think it no disgrace, quick and affect-
ingly replied Harry, to make submissions to any one who is son to
such a gentleman as my Lord Mansfield.
My lord for some time looked with astonishment at the child ;
when, eagerly catching and pressing him to his bosom, he cried out
On my honour you are the sweetest as well as the noblest fellow
I was ever acquainted with ; and, sir, I shall think it an honour to
be admitted among your friends, and that's what I would not say to
many in Old England. Mr. Fenton, continued the earl, if you will
give yourself the trouble to inquire out my little lodge on the hill
you will oblige me ; though I envy your character, I shall be glad
of your acquaintance. So saying, Lord Mansfield got up after his
blunt manner, and precipitately withdrew.
On the following evening Mr. Fenton took Harry and Mr.
Clement into his study ; and taking from his pocket-book a number
of bank-bills Mr. Clement, says he, I here make my Harry a
present of fifteen hundred pounds, reserving only to myself the
privilege of advising how it may be laid out and secured for him to
the best advantage.
To-morrow morning you and he are to set out on foot for London,
and there to take lodgings as near to the Fleet-prison as you can
conveniently be accommodated. You are then to apply to the keeper,
and to give him a gratuity for making out a written list of all the
prisoners under his custody, with their quality and condition
annexed, as also the sums respectively due, and the terms during
which they have been in confinement.
You are then to inquire from him the several characters, dis-
tresses, and merits of all the prisoners of note, and to make an
entry thereof in a separate paper ; but then you are not to depend
altogether on his report. You are to go from room to room, to
converse with the prisoners apart, and to inquire from each the
characters, fortunes, and disasters of the others.
This inquisition, in all likelihood, will take you up above a fort-
night. But, above all, remember that those among them who are
most affected by the distresses of their fellows, ought to be the
principal objects of your own charity and relief.
Let five hundred pounds of this money be appropriated to the
enlargement of such prisoners as are under duresse for sums not
amounting to ten pounds. You will thereby free the captive ; give
means of bread to the hungry ; and restore to your country many
members that are worse than useless, that are also a dead-weight
and encumbrance upon her. Let the remaining thousand pounds
be applied to the enfranchisement or relief of those prisoners of
note, whose cases and calamities call for singular compassion. And
172 THE FOOL OF QUALITY.
be sure to keep an account where your money may fall short of
such valuable purposes ; and, as far as five hundred pounds more
will reach, we will supply the defect.
Hereupon Harry caught his patron about the neck, and re-
peatedly kissing him, cried sir, how happy, how very happy
you make me ! O, that we had money enough to employ every
fortnight the year round like this sweet fortnight !
The very next morning our travellers set out on their generous
expedition. But we forbear to say any thing relative thereto till
their return; as they themselves are the best qualified, and in
truth have the best right, to give the particulars of their own
extraordinary adventures.
Our Harry and his friend Clement had not been gone above an
hour, when Mr. Fenton received a card from the Countess of Mait-
land, requesting his company to coffee in the evening. She was
widow to the late earl, a very lovely woman, had taken the most
sumptuous house on the hill, and was resorted to by numbers of
the first figure, from among whom she was perfectly qualified to
make a selection, exceedingly entertaining to herself, of the sensible,
the elegant, and the ludicrous.
Mr. Fenton attended my lady precisely at the time appointed.
"When he entered, she was writing a note at her desk. On turning
her eye to the door, she was suddenly struck with the grace of his
figure, the sweetness of his aspect, and the ease of his deportment.
She was further struck with a recollection as of something very
interesting, but which had happened at a vast distance, or of which
she had dreamed. Her heart was affected; she coloured up, and
again turned pale, without being yet able to move from her chair.
At length recovering, and rising and advancing toward him Mr.
Fenton, says she, this is a very singular favour a favour for which
I have long wished. This, sir, you know, is my third time of asking,
but my two former cards were not so happy as to bring you.
Madam, said he carelessly, I am but a very poor visitor ; however,
I could not refuse myself the honour of attending your ladyship's
summons, at least for once. I have been now, said the countess,
three months on the hill. Within that time I have applied to all
my acquaintance, in order to get some of them to introduce me to
you ; but none of them were so fortunate as to know your name.
To be known, madam, replied Mr. Fenton, a person must have been
in some way considerable ; indeed it is no way disagreeable to my
own inclinations to pass the short remnant of an insignificant life as
little noticed as possible. Much company then came in, and the
evening was spent in agreeable conversation; and, on the party
breaking up, each member of it gave distinct pressing invitations to
Mr. Fenton, which he as politely excused himself from attending
to at present.
On the following morning, as he sat in his study, some one tapped
at the door ; and, on being desired to walk in, who should enter
but Lady Maitland in an agreeable dishabille.
Mr. Fenton, said she (deeply blushing and hesitating), I, I you
must think it very odd I say, sir, 1 should not have intruded upon
you, thus out of all form, perhaps indecently, unseasonably. Please
THE FOOL OF QUALITY. 173
to toe seated, madam. The business I come upon, sir, is so very
interesting-, so concerning to my peace, that 1 could not refuse
myself this opportunity of breaking in upon you. Be assured, my
dear madam, that the greatest pleasure you can do me is to let
me know, as soon as possible, \vherein I can serve you.
Here the countess, looking eagerly and inquisitively on him, put
her hand in her bosom, took out a picture, and alternately surveying
the one and the other Yes, she cried, it is, it must certainly
be so. Then, reaching out the picture, Can you tell me, sir, said
she, for whom this was drawn, or rather do you remember to whom
you gave it?
Mr. Fenton took the picture, looked at it, and started ; when,
recollecting ideas and passages as from afar off, he exclaimed
Good God ! is it possible, can you be my little Fanny Goodall ?
Yes, my dearest cousin, answered the countess, as surely as you
are the still too amiable Harry Clinton.
Hereupon they both rose suddenly, and Mr. Fenton, catching
his quondam Fanny in his arms, pressed her to his bosom with
warm and kindred affection. But the agitation of the countess was
too big for utterance ; till, resuming her chair, she gave scope to
her passion, and burst into a violent flood of tears.
After a mutual and affecting silence Ah ! cries Mr. Fenton, in
a voice expressive of much emotion, how am I, my lovely cousin,
to interpret these tears? Am I to consider them as further proofs
of your ancient aversion to me, or as kindly and dear instances
of your returning affection? The countess answered not, and
Mr. Fenton continued:
You may remember, my cousin, that I had very few relations.
My only brother ever continued to behave himself towards me as
an alien and an enemy ; and my only uncle and guardian, who in
his later years became your father, was no way agreeable to my
taste or disposition. In you, therefore, from your infancy in
you alone, my amiable cousin I had centred all my sensations
of fatherhood, brotherhood, all the affections and tender feelings
that naturally arise from kindred and consanguinity. How have
I been delighted with your infantine prattle ! how have I exulted
in your opening charms ! On the death of my first wife you were
my only consolation ; and in your innocent caresses and attractive
endearments I felt a sweetness of emotion that I never felt before.
On my return from France, with what transports did you receive
me ! we grew, as it were, in our embracements to each other. You
were then, as I apprehend, about ten years of age. But on my next
visit you refused to be seen by me. Soon after you were taken ill.
I daily went with an aching heart to inquire after your health ; but
your mamma peremptorily refused me admission to your presence,
till, on your recovery, you were conveyed from me, and secreted
into the country.
Though this unkindness went near my heart, it did not alter my
affections ; I still continued to inquire after you, I still continued
to be interested in you, and I preferred my ardent wishes and
prayers to heaven for your prosperity.
Mr. Fenton, said Lady Maitland (you have unquestionably your
174 THE FOOL OF QUALITY.
reasons for choosing to be so called), I am very sensible, sir, I say,
of your extraordinary partiality to me from my earliest years. Your
tenderness, as you mentioned, was that of the fondest of fathers
or brothers. You knew the degree and kind of affection that was
suitable between such relations, and you kept yourself precisely
within the limits. But, alas! for my part I knew no such dis-
tinctions. I was as a piece of virgin wax, warmed and willingly
yielding to the first kindly impression. You made that impression,
my cousin you made it deep and entire. As I had but the one
heart, so I had but the one love ; and that love was all your own,
without distinction or degree.
Gracious heaven ! exclaimed Mr. Fenton, what is this you tell
me, madam ? Is it possible that, at your years, you should actually
conceive a passion for one who might almost have been your grand-
father ? Ah ! if that be the case, what have I not to answer for
indulging you and myself in those innocent caresses, which at that
time fondly constituted the most pleasing sensations of my life.
Alas! replied the countess, if you have any thing to answer
for on that account, the charge indeed is very weighty which
I have to bring against you.
I was not eight years old when I begged this picture from you,
which you generously enriched with this circlet of diamonds.
Soon after, you went to France ; and during your absence this
picture was my constant companion, whom I caressed, whom I
talked to, and to whom alone I made my complaints in all my little
matters of grievance.
I know not by what instinct or kind of cunning it was, that I
endeavoured to conceal my affection for this your resemblance, and
never made my court to it but when I was alone.
The morning after your visit, on your return from Paris, as I was
carelessly performing the business of my little toilette before the
glass, I took out your picture, and surveyed it with new and
increasing delight. In the mean time I did not know that my
mamma stood behind me, attentive to all my motions, that were
reflected to her by the mirror. She heard me talk to your picture,
she saw me kiss it, and eagerly press it to my bosom. At last I
turned my eye to the glass, and perceived a piece of her image ;
whereon I started, coloured, and trembled, and was thrown, I knew
not why, into the utmost confusion.
Ah, Fanny ! cried my mother, what is this that I see ? your
young heart, my child, is certainly affected. Unquestionably you
love your cousin Clinton.
Ought I not to love him, madam? does he not love me as well
as I love him ? No, no, my darling ! said my mother, I would to
heaven that he did. Your cousin Clinton indeed is worthy of all
love, but then he has lately given away his heart to another. He
is married, my Fanny And cannot he love me still, for all
that, madam? By no means, my sweet innocent. When once a
man marries, he vows, and swears, and obliges himself to love
nobody living but his wife; and what is more, my Fanny, it is
accounted very naughty in any girl to think of loving such a one
afterwards.
THE FOOL OF QUALITY. 175
What emotions did I then feel ! what a conflict of opposing
passions ! but resentment, for the time got the upper hand. I had
yet formed no idea of the relations of sex, or matrimony, or any
conjugal obligation save that of love alone. But then it was suffi-
cient to me that I had given you my whole heart ; that nothing
less than your whole heart could satisfy me in return ; and I felt
myself offended and outraged to the last degree, by your having
imparted a share thereof to another.
The day following, as I sat languid and much discomposed, as
well by my passion as want of rest the night before, my mamma
came up to tell me that you were below, and inquired for me. No,
no, my dearest mamma, said I, it does not signify, I will not see
him. Let him go to whomever he loves best. But what shall
I say to him, my Fanny ; what excuse shall I make ? No matter
for excuse, madam; tell him that I never desire to see his face
any more.
As something informed me that you could not help still loving
me a little, T laid hold of that little love to pique, and disoblige, and
be revenged of you for your perfidy ; and, as long as you stayed,
the thoughts of the pain and uneasiness I presumed you were under,
gave me vast delight. But as soon as I was told you were gone,
my heart sunk down, as from a mount of triumph, into a depth
of desolation.
My mamma came up to console me. She highly applauded my
spirit, and the resentment I had showed ; and she blamed you for
marrying another, at a time that you pretended so much fondness
to me. She further endeavoured to set me against your age.
She told me that you must soon be old and ugly and wrinkled,
and that you were much fitter to be my father than my lover.
She also spoke to me of my vast fortune, of my beauty, and so
forth, and that I might have my pick and choice of all the
young and handsome earls and dukes in the nation. She opened
to me, in a variety of glittering prospects, all the pleasures and
advantages of wealth, title, state, equipage, with the respects and
admiration of crowds bending around me. As she represented
them to my imagination, I catched at each of them for comfort ;
but, alas ! I did not find you among them, and all to me became
empty.
That night my tender mamma forsook her own bed, and came to
lie in mine. I saw that she had been afflicted ; so, for fear of
adding to her trouble, I suppressed my own emotions, and pre-
tended to be asleep. I lay quiet by her side till toward morning,
when I was seized with a violent fever. During my illness, I was
told that you came daily to inquire about me ; and that, I believe,
above all things, contributed to my recovery. One day my mamma
came and informed me that you sat below in tears, and earnestly
requested to be permitted to see me. O how sweet and comforting
did those tears seem to drop upon my heart ! but, mustering all
my little pride and remaining dignity No, no, my mamma, I
cried, I will die first ! If he does not first unmarry himself, I will
never see him any more.
When I had gotten strength enough to walk about the chamber,
176 THE FOOL OF QUALITY.
my mamma and I being alone, I went to my drawer, and taking
out your picture, and turning my head aside, I reached it to her,
saying Here, madam, take this and lock it up from me ; for, while
I love it and hate it so much, it troubles me to look at it. My
mamma thereupon took it from me, and catched me to her bosom ;
but without saying a word, she burst into tears, and straight
quitted the room.
As soon as it was judged that I was able to travel, my parents,
by the advice of their doctors, took me far into the country. My
mother in the mean time had unquestionably confided my secret to
my father ; for, though he was naturally of a severe and backward
temper, he became extremely tender and indulgent toward me.
As I was the only child they ever had, their whole care and
solicitude was affectionately employed in procuring me a variety
of gratifications and amusements. When I was in spirits, they
were in a kind of triumph; but my dejection was to them the
most grievous of all oppressions. They took down my French
mistress and music-master with them, and they collected from all
parts the most agreeable set of misses and masters that they could
muster; so that my time was portioned put the most happily
that could be, between business and recreations that were equally
pleasing. They had taken care that your name should never be
mentioned before me ; and though at times my soul was athirst,
and my ear opened and turned to hear tidings concerning you, yet
a certain native bashfulness and fear of offending against decency,
did not permit me to inquire after you.
Thus a length of absence and a variety of dissipations, by degrees
greatly abated the ardour of my passion, insomuch that I did not
seem to feel any more for you. When any occasion, however, re-
newed in me the impression of former scenes, a thrilling sort of
chillness would run through my blood. And at other times, when
alone and thinking of you, a swimming kind of stupor would fall
sadly upon my soul.
On our return to London, after five years' absence, the great
number of people, with the novelty and variety of objects that
crowded upon my view, amused and engaged my whole attention.
But, when we entered the old mansion when I turned my eyes
on the places where you sat, where you walked, where you talked
and used to caress me you became as it were actually visible to
my eyes ; something seemed to wring my heart ; and I was seized
with a sickness near to fainting. I took hold of my maid by the
arm, and with her help walked into the garden for fresh air ; but
there too you had got before me. On the terrace, in the walks and
alleys, where you used to run feigned races with me, and to gather
fruit for me, and to play with me at bob-cherry, and afterwards to
press the lips that had gained the prize. I then turned away from
a place that afforded me no asylum from you. My mother met, and
eagerly asked what ailed me ? Let us go, mamma, I cried ; let us
go somewhere else, I am not able to stay in this place any longer.
Accordingly, that very evening we removed to lodgings ; and, in
a few days, my father took and furnished a new house.
I shall not dwell, my dear sir, on a trivial detail of the many
THE FOOL OF QUALITY. 177
circumstances and little incidents that happened during the space
of four succeeding years. An infinity of suitors paid their addresses
to me or my fortune, I neither knew nor cared to which, for I con-
tinued alike insensible to all. It is true, that during such a number
of years, having neither seen nor heard from you, I dropped all
thoughts of you, and scarce retained the traces or lineaments of
your person or aspect. From the impression, however, which you
left in my mind, I had formed to myself a dear, though confused
image of the lovely, of the desirable, and this I looked for every-
where, but could nowhere find any resemblance thereof.
In the mean time my parents urged me strongly to matrimony.
They affectingly represented that they should not die in peace, if I
did not afford them the prospect of perpetuating themselves in my
offspring ; such is the fond succedaneum which short-lived creatures
propose for eking out their existence, and supplying the lot of an
inevitable mortality, by the flattering though poor substitute of a
name or bare remembrance !
At length I told my parents that, as I could not form any choice
of my own, I would trust wholly to their judgment, and take up
with whomsoever they should be pleased to appoint. Hereupon
they recommended the Earl of Maitland to me. I kept to my
promise, and we were consequently married.
My husband was comely in his person, easy and affable in his
temper, and a man of singular sense and letters for a lord. He loved
me with passion; and, as I could not pay him in specie, I en-
deavoured to supply my want of affection to him by my attention
and assiduities.
On the fifth year of my marriage my father died of a good old
age ; and in four years more my dearest mother left me desolate.
In her I lost the only object of fond affections that I had upon
earth, and my looks tacitly reproached my husband for his want of
power to console me.
I believe it was equally unhappy for my lord as myself that we
were not blessed with children. The dear and tender attachments
that bind parents to their offspring, serve also as a subsequent and
more affecting nuptial band for uniting those parents more in-
timately to each other. It draws about them a new circle of in-
terests and amities ; and, by creating a mutual confidence, forbids
the intrusion of those jealousies that must at all times pre-suppose
an ah'enation of regard. This, however, was not the case between
Lord Maitland and me. We never had a child. Perhaps, in some
constitutions, an union of souls as well as persons may be requisite
for such an effect.
During the two years succeeding the death of my dear mother,
I conceived a disgust against company and entertainments. I took
a religious turn. I looked upon this world, and all that it contained,
as quite unworthy the regard of an immortal being. The principal
part of my time was taken up in books and offices of devotion ; in
which employment I alternately sunk under the most gloomy de-
pression of spirits, and again was elevated above myself into a new
world of joys and inexpressible openings.
At length I was taken exceedingly ill of what the physicians
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178 THE FOOL OF QUALITY.
called a fever upon the nerves, which confined me to my bed above
six weeks. During my illness, my husband was the most constant
and assiduous of all my attendants. The affectionate sadness, the
painful distress, the tender solicitude that was visible in all his looks
and actions, made way into my soul with an obliging impression ;
and, while I reproached myself for my ungrateful defect of sensibility
toward him, love, or something tender and very like to love, took
place in my bosom.
As soon as I was on the recovery, my husband disappeared, with-
out taking leave or giving me any notice ; and for three weeks I
knew not what was become of him. At length he returned, pale
and greatly emaciated. I had yet lost none of the tenderness which
I conceived for him during my illness. I took him affectionately by
the hand, which glowed like a coal of fire. Ah ! I cried, where
have you been ? what looks are these, my lord? what is the meaning
of all this ? He answered not ; but withdrawing his hand, and
scarce deigning to look towards me I am not well, he faintly said ;
I must go to my bed.
While his servants undressed him, I stood in silent astonishment,
vainly guessing at the cause of this extraordinary behaviour : but
as soon as he had lain down, I took a seat by his side, and seizing
and pressing one of his hands between mine. I broke into tears.
After a sad and mutual silence Ah, madam ! cried my husband,
what am I to understand by these tears ? I am willing to consider
them as proofs of your humanity, but I cannot consider them as
instances of your affection. You love me not, madam ; you never
did love me. All the constancy and complacence of the most ardent
passion, all my endeavours and assiduities, have not been able to
procure me the smallest interest in your heart. I blame you not,
madam ; alas ! we are not the masters of our own affections. I am
sensible that I never deserved your love. That was a blessing re-
served for a more amiable object. But then the tenderness and
truth of my attachment to you, might surely have laid claim to a
share of your confidence. Ah, how precious had such a confidence
been to my heart ! it had stood to me in the place of your love,
and I should not have reproached you for irresistible propensities ;
yes, madam, I say irresistible, for I know you are virtuous. Perhaps
it was not in your power to refuse another your love ; but then you
might have admitted your husband to a share of your friendship.
You have my friendship, I cried ; my tender est friendship, my
most affectionate regards. If my love is not so ardent as you could
wish, you however have all the love of which I am capable, and
you possess it entire and undivided.
What is this you tell me, madam ? I would to heaven you could
still deceive me that I had still continued in ignorance ! But that
is past ; it is over, madam ; my eyes are opened to my wretched-
ness, and I die in the double want of your faith and your affection.
I have seen your lover, lady ; I saw him four days ago from an op-
posite window. He stood before this house in converse with an-
other. I expected every moment, that, taking advantage of my
absence, he would have gained admission to you. I held my sword
ready to follow, to pierce his heart, and sacrifice him to the claima
THE FOOL OF QUALITY. 179
of my honour and my love. But he suddenly disappeared, and
disappointed my vengeance.
Gracious heaven ! I exclaimed, what madness is this ? Do you
dream, or who is it that has thus cruelly imposed upon you ? You
shall see the impostor, madam, replied my lord. So saying-, he sud-
denly put his hand back, and taking your picture from under the
pillow, he indignantly demanded Do you know the original of this
portrait, lady ? Ah, I screamed, I confess it, I do know him, I did
know him indeed : he was the idol of my heart ; I delighted in him,
I doated upon him ! You then acknowledge, you avow it, rejoined
my husband ; and at length you deign to make me the confidant of
a passion which I suppose, in your favour, to have been involuntary.
Ah ! had I been earlier apprised of my unhappiness, I might not
have sunk under the unexpected and sudden pressure as I do at
this day. But say who and what is this formidable rival, who robs
me of my peace, who tears my life from me ?
First tell me, my lord, said I, how you came by this picture ?
I found it in your cabinet during your illness, said he, when I
searched for your essences to relieve you from a fainting fit. I
flatter myself that I am not of a jealous disposition. Curiosity first
incited me to hurry it into my pocket. 1 afterwards surveyed it
more at leisure, and some startling doubts arose. I endeavoured to
suppress them ; I argued with myself that it might be a family
picture, the representative of a brother or dear relation deceased.
But then some enemy of my peace again whispered to my spirit,
that, if this had been the case, you would not be so solicitous to
conceal it from me ; you would rather have boasted of such an
ornament of your lineage ; you would have been proud to exhibit
it before all people this staggered me I confess ; and additional
doubts and suggestions were impelled upon my soul. She reserves
this, said I to myself, for her own eye and inspection ; to revive it,
to gaze and dwell upon it in secret, and to please her sight with the
favourite image that is impressed upon her heart. At each of these
reflections I felt a sting in my bosom ; and the more I revolved and
debated on these uncertainties, the greater strength they gained,
and drew nearer to demonstration. Ah ! I cried, her real coldness
and feigned regards are now equally accounted for. She deceives
me, she imposes upon me ; and I will counterfeit in my turn till
this mystery is detected. I then attempted, and would have con-
strained myself, to look at you with my accustomed tenderness, but
I found it impossible. I therefore withdrew suddenly, and without
any notice. If ever she had a tincture of friendship for me, thought
I, the apprehension of my loss will awake in her a sense thereof.
I disguised myself; and, as a stranger, took lodgings over against
you. I took my station at the window. I was on the watch from
morn till noon, to make a thorough inquisition into your conduct
during my absence. I shall discover her disposition, said I, by the
visitants whom she receives ; but, during a fortnight of observation,
I could not perceive that, of the numbers who called, any one was
admitted. My jealous passions abated, and I began to reproach
myself for having ever conceived them ; when, to my utter con-
fusion, there stood full to my view, in dress, aspect, mien, attitude,
N2
480 THE FOOL OF QUALITY.
the distinguished original of the portrait which I had in my
pocket.
Here I passionately broke in upon my husband's narration. God
be praised ! I exclaimed ; he then lives, he still lives, my most dear
and amiable cousin, though I never wish to behold his face any
more ! My only relation, perhaps now my only friend, you are still
living, and I trust you are happy ; and that is enough !
Your relation your only relation, madam cried my lord ! Is he
so near ? Is he no nearer, no dearer to you, than consanguinity will
warrant ? Proceed, my lord, I said ; I will then tell you all with-
out disguise or palliation.
I confess to you, answered my husband, that the sight of him
struck my soul with the fullest conviction of my being betrayed.
My jealous pangs returned with double poignancy. I was en-
kindled ; I was set on fire ; my heart was rent several ways. A
violent fever seized upon me, but my fury and thirst of vengeance
supported me under it. For four days longer I held up in the
impatient expectation of once more beholding your lover, that I
might pierce him in a thousand places, in every seducing part
about him. But nature at length gave way; I sunk under the
oppression ; and I returned, once for all, to behold, to reproach,
and to expire before you.
O, my husband, my friend, my true lover ! I cried ; how I pity,
how I feel for you ! I excuse your suspicions, however injurious to
my honour, since your jealousy perhaps is not wholly without
foundation. I did indeed love the person for whom that portrait
was drawn, with tenderness, with passion ; but, believe me, when I
assure you that I have not set my eyes either on the original or
picture these twenty years.
What is this you tell me ? exclaimed my lord. You are not yet,
as I take it, thirty years of age. Could you love, even to passion,
at so very early a period ?
Here I found myself under the necessity of discovering to my
husband the little adventures, impressions, and sentiments of my
infancy, wherewith you are already acquainted. When I had
finished my short narrative, he seized my hand, and pressing it
passionately to his lips, and then to his burning bosom, he melted
into tears. O, my Fanny ! he cried ; my most noble, my adorable
creature ! What a combat have you fought ; what a conquest have
you gained, of grace over nature of virtue against passion ! Can
you excuse me ? Will you forgive me ? May I hope that you will
restore me to the blessings of your friendship ? May I flatter my-
self that you gave me as much as you could of your affections ?
That, if you had been able, you would have loved me with a love
like mine?
I will not distress you, my cousin, by a description of the affecting
scenes that ensued. My husband left me vastly rich, but still more
forlorn. During the first years of widowhood, I looked upon myself
as a friendless and unnecessary burden upon earth. Though I
thought of you at times, it was not without a resentment and a
tincture of aversion, for your never having deigned to inquire or
find out whether any such person as your too affectionate Fanny
TEE FOOL OF QUALITY. 181
Goodall was in the land of the living. At length my physicians
and my friends (as they styled themselves) prevailed upon me once
more to enter into the light, and air, and amusements of their
world. I consented. I found my advantage in it. I gradually got
rid of the grievous oppression that lay upon my spirits. Since 'all is
vanity, thought I, let us partake of the dissipation,, and make it as
pleasing as we can ; and accordingly you found me in the engage-
ments which you honoured with your inspection yesterday.
When you entered, I did not know you. The strange name of
Fenton, as well as the alteration which years had made in you, shut
you out almost wholly from my recollection. I felt myself, however,
agitated, I knew not why. Something in your person and manner
renewed in my heart impressions kindred to those which were once
its sole concern. I could not look at you, I could not speak to you.
without emotion. All night I lay disturbed, in vain endeavouring
to remember when or where I had seen you. At morning, a sudden
light darted in upon my mind. I got up and flew to your picture,
which at once laid all open, and detected your disguise.
You are much altered, cousin. Had I first seen you as you now
appear, I think my young heart would not have been so deeply
affected. The ruin, however, is still very noble, and endearingly
renews hi me the idea of what the building once was.
Your abstracted air, and the change of your name, seem to
intimate some distressing situation ; but if fifty thousand pounds, or
that sum doubled, will be of use to you, I shall for once think that
fortune has been of advantage to me.
My most dear and generous cousin, replied Mr. Fenton, I shall never
pardon myself those griefs which the excess of my affection inad-
vertently occasioned you. No brother ever loved a sister, no parent
a child, with fonder passion. The aversion which I thought you
had suddenly taken to me, was one of the most sensible afflictions of
my life ; and my ignorance of what latterly became of you, can only
be accounted for by an abstract of my own story.
Here Mr. Fenton called for chocolate. And, after breakfast, he
gave Lady Maitland the following affecting history of his own life
and adventures.
CHAPTER XIII.
STOBY OF THE HON. MB. CLINTON.
THE world, my lovely cousin the world is to man as his temper
or complexion. The mind constitutes its own prosperity and adver-
sity; winter presents no cloud to a cheerful spirit, neither can
summer find sunshine for the spirit that is in a state of dejection.
In my youth, every object presented me with happiness ; but, alas !
the time came when the universe appeared as a vault wherein joy
was entombed, and the sun himself but as a lamp that served to
show the gloom and the horrors around me.
As my father and mother died before I was taken from nurse, I
knew none of those parental tendernesses and endearments that
182 TEE FOOL OF QUALITY.
serve to humanize the soul, and give it the first impressions of social
attachment ; neither were those sweetnesses in any degree supplied
to me by the behaviour of an imperious brother, or of a magisterial
guardian. As I was naturally, however, of a benevolent cast, I
sought for those affections and amities among strangers which I had
not found in the bosoms or faces of kin. I pass over the immaterial
parts of my life at school and college, and hasten to the more
important period of my apprenticeship.
Your father bound me to Mr. Golding, a very wealthy and
eminent merchant, who lived over against the Exchange. He had
been some years a widower, and his only child, a daughter, was
then at a boarding-school.
Mr. Golding, with a plain understanding, was a man of exceeding
honesty and a susceptible heart. At first sight he conceived a
partial affection for me, whereof he gave me very frequent and very
tender proofs ; and, as he stood to me in the place of a patron and
a father, I felt for him all the fondness and attachment of a child.
In the fourth year of my apprenticeship he called me to his closet,
and taking me kindly by the hand Harry, says he, I love you ;
your interest lies near my heart ; for though you are not the be-
gotten of my body, you are the child of my affections Be quiet,
Harry let me speak I have to talk to you of matters of conse-
quence. I went yesterday to your uncle Goodall, to know how
accounts stood between you ; though he is but a cold kinsman, he is
a very faithful guardian. He has just married a very lovely young
woman, and I would have you go and pay your compliments to
them on the occasion. Your uncle has laid out your little penny to
good advantage, and your 12,000 is now nearly doubled. And
now, Harry, as your father did not behave like a father toward you
in the dividend which he made between you and your brother, I
propose in some measure to supply his place, and I make you a
present of this note of 12,000, which, added to your little patri-
mony, may enable you Oh, sir ! I cried Be quiet, child, I say
again, till you find whether or no you shall have reason to thank me.
I am growing old, my Harry, and by a long course of industry have
earned a kind of title to some little rest ; I would therefore gladly
make a composition between your application and my repose. I
shall not be so often in the counting-house as usual. I propose to
take you into immediate partnership. But, as I also propose that
you shall be at three-fourths of the trouble, it is but just that I
should offer you a proportionable advantage. Now as my capital,
Harry, is more than five times as much as yours of 36,000, I offer
to your acceptance a full moiety of all the profits, in recompense of
your extraordinary attention and application. Hear me out I do
not think that I shall lose by this bargain. The affairs of Potiphar
prospered under the hands of young Joseph ; and I believe that
you, also, are a favourite of your God.
I could not speak. The good man perceived my oppression, and
catching me in his arms, and pressing me to his bosom, he shed a
silent tear of satisfaction upon me, and withdrew without saying
another word.
For several days following, Mr. Golding was employed in advising
THE FOOL OF QUALITY. 183
his correspondents that I was now become his partner and equal in
trade, and I was wearied with congratulations on my being one of
the principal merchants in London before I had attained my
twentieth year.
The obligations and advantages which this good man thus de-
lighted to heap upon me, incited me to double application and
sagacity, and all the eyes of Argus were opened within me for
superintending and guarding the interests of my patron.
I have often thought it somewhat romantic, that I should win
both my wives by a matter of adventure ; so that their partiality
in my favour ought, perhaps, to be ascribed to a sentiment of
gratitude, rather than to any liking which they might take to
my person.
On a day in summer I rode to Barnet to settle accounts with Mr.
Fradgil, a correspondent of my master's, who was said to be in-
disposed at his country-seat. As I approached the town, I observed
an elderly gentlewoman walking leisurely towards me, attended by
an orderly train of young maidens. I observed, at the same time,
two men in glittering apparel who hastily followed, and coming
quickly up, put all the females to a stand, and caused them to
gather in a group as for mutual defence. One of the men, however,
no way daunted by the opposition of so numerous a company, rudely
caught one of the elder misses in his arms, and repeatedly kissed
her. Meanwhile the young lady shrieked and cried aloud for help ;
when, riding suddenly up, I struck the ruffian to the ground with
the heavy end of my whip. His companion hereupon drew his
sword and turned upon me ; but, pushing my horse at him, I cast
hi also to the earth ; then alighting, I broke their swords, and,
leaving my gallants in a plight not suddenly to be dreaded, I
led my horse by the bridle till I saw my fair wards all safe to their
dwelling.
Some months after this incident Mr. Golding called me aside.
Harry, says he, my daughter is now drawing to woman's estate, and
should learn something more substantial than needle-work, and
dancing, and harpsichords, and Frenchified phrases. I therefore
propose to take her home, where, by the help of our cook and
housekeeper, she may be taught how to make a Sunday's pudding
and to superintend a family.
I regularly go to see her once in every month, accompanied by
some male or female acquaintance, but never called you to be of
the party, as we could not so conveniently be both from home.
My child, though a plain girl, is very dutiful and good-natured.
Her fortune, as you are sensible, will entitle her to the first lord
of the land ; yet I know not how it is, I would rather that my
girl should be happy than great. I do not wish to have her a
fine-titled dame. I would rather, I say, see her married to some
honest and tender-hearted man, whose love might induce him to
domesticate with her, and to live peaceably and pleasingly within
his family circle, than to see her mated with a prince of the blood.
Now, Harry, as this affair of all affairs sits nearest at my heart,
it is greatly in your power to oblige me beyond expression. On
my daughter's coming home, I conclude we shall be beset by a
184 THE FOOL OF QUALITY.
number of courtiers ; such an Argo, when freighted with such a
fleece, will unquestionably be held in chase by many a pirate.
Wherefore, my son, I would have you keep a sharp and inquisitive
eye about you, and to take good note of the manners and dis-
positions of such suitors as my daughter shall appear to regard, as
also to inquire minutely into their circumstances and characters.
Your vigilance and penetration may save us from ruin. Should
my child be made unhappy, your friend must be most miserable.
But I depend, my dear Harry, that while I live you will prove a
kind brother to her, and that you will prove a father to her in
case of my mortality. Here the good man, no longer able to
restrain his passion, put his handkerchief to his eyes and quitted
the chamber.
"Within a few days Mr. Golding set out, accompanied by a num-
ber of his city friends, in order to conduct his daughter home.
On their arrival I was deeply engaged in the counting-house, and
it was near the time for supper before I could attend. As I en-
tered, Mr. Golding presented me to his daughter, saying This,
my dear, is Mr. Clinton, my partner, my friend, my son, and your
brother. Hereupon Miss Golding coloured, and drawing back as I
approached to salute her If I am not mistaken, sir, said she, he
is something more to us than all you have mentioned; it would
ill become me to forget that he is the deliverer of your daughter.
Your deliverer, my dear Matty! how, where, when? Why,
pray, papa, did Mr. Clinton never tell you of his adventure at
Barnet? No, indeed, my -fcai. It is not every one who would be
silent where so much was' to be said to their own honour. I remem-
ber that your knights in romance, when too modest to boast of their
own achievements, used to permit some friend or squire to deliver
down to posterity the history of their adventures, and I take the
liberty to be squire to Mr. Clinton on the like occasion.
Here Miss Golding began to give a narrative of the matter
already recited, but in terms of high praise and aggravated en-
comium. While all abashed and confused, I withdrew, saying, that
I did not remember to have heard of any knights who stayed to
hear their own story.
In truth, I was much surprised to hear Miss Golding mention
the adventure of Bamet; for I did not recollect that I had ever
seen her, and had taken much more note of two or three other
misses than I had of her.
Being re-summoned to supper, Mr. Golding met me as I entered,
and clasping me in his arms Oh, my Harry! he cried, how won-
derfully gracious has God been to me, in sending my best friend to
the rescue of my only child ; in sending, at so critical and very
fearful a conjuncture, perhaps the only person who had either
gallantry or humanity enough to preserve her. Indeed, sir, I
replied, you owe me nothing ; I did not even know that the lady
was your daughter ; and I could not pride myself, in any degree,
on an action which I thought incumbent on every man to perform.
During supper, Miss Golding was very cheerful and agreeable. Her
face, indeed, could not be numbered among the beauties ; but her
person was grace and majesty, though in miniature ; her conversa-
THE FOOL OF QUALITY. 185
tion was pleasing ; and when she sung- or touched her instruments,
for she was mistress of several, her mien and motions were music,
each note seemed a sentiment, and we felt her fingers playing on
the cordage of our hearts.
For the first three months after Miss Golding's arrival, all was
crowding and gaiety, assembly and festival, at our house. She was
as a magnet, that drew and grouped all the peerage and gentry of
England together. But, as business happened to be very urgent
at this season, I was not at liberty to partake of their amusements,
and I resigned to Mr. Golding the commission which he had given
me respecting the parties who declared themselves suitors.
As those suitors, in a daily and numerous succession, applied to
Mr. Golding for his consent, his general answer was, that his good-
liking was inseparable from that of his only child ; that he would,
if they pleased, consult her on the occasion, and faithfully report
to them her approbation or dissent. In the like conclusive manner,
when Mr. Golding repeatedly questioned his daughter, she would
take his hand between hers, and kissing it, say Oh no ! my dear
papa, this is not the man.
One day, as I sat alone in the counting-house, Miss Golding en-
tered and presented me with an order from her father for 250.
And pray, madam, said I, why this ceremony, this matter of form ?
Sure Miss Golding may at any time command twenty times this
sum without any order save her own intimation. Indeed ! are you
serious, Mr. Clinton ? I am very proud, I assure you, to have so
much credit with you ; but, Mr. Harry, how comes it to pass that
we have so little of your company? Your father's business,
madam, deprives me of the pleasure I should otherwise have in
attending you. Again, sir, I am quite proud that it is your atten-
tion to my father alone, which prevents your having any attention
for his daughter ; so saying, she vanished.
Immediately I was struck with a glimpse of some uncommon
meaning in the words and behaviour of Miss Golding ; but as I
never had looked toward the way of her affections, I passed it
lightly over, as some matter of whim or caprice in her sex.
Among the brilliant concourse of suitors that frequented our
house, there was one Mr. Spelling, a young gentleman, highly
accomplished in his person and manners, and of a most amiable
countenance and disposition. His father, like Miss Golding's, had
been a merchant, and like him, too, had amassed an excessive
fortune. As he was modest, as I may say, to a degree of shame-
facedness, he did not declare himself a lover till nearly the whole
multitude of competitors had been discarded ; then, with a blush-
ing diffidence, he avowed his passion to Mr. Golding, and earnestly
besought his consent and intercession in his favour. You have not
only my consent, replied the good old man, you have also my best
wishes, and shall have my best endeavours for your success. How-
ever, I must warn you at the same time, Mr. Spelling, that I will
not do any violence to the inclinations of my child, although there
are not two in the world whom I would prefer to you.
I was writing in my closet when Mr. Golding came in, with an
anxious importance in his countenance, and told me what passed
186 TEE FOOL OF QUALITY.
between him and Mr. Spelling, and asked if I did not approve the
match. 1 do not know, sir, said I, that man in England who is so
deserving of your daughter as Mr. Spelling. Then, my dear Harry,
I have a commission to give you. Matilda has a great respect for
your judgment ; I beseech you to make use of your influence with
her, and to exert all your oratory in behalf of this young man.
But, sir, will not Miss Matilda look on this as a matter of high
presumption in one who has no manner of right to advise? No
matter ; you may tell her that you did it by my desire, and that we
are both of a mind with regard to this business. Well, sir, said
I, since you are bent upon it, I will obey you ; but it is the first
time that ever I obeyed you with reluctance.
Soon after Mr. Golding left me his daughter entered, with a
countenance visibly unquiet and confused. My papa, sir, said she,
informs me that you have a business of consequence to impart to
me. I hope, madam pray, be seated a moment. Indeed, my dear
Miss Golding, this office was not of my choosing ; and I hope, I
say, you will be so good as to pardon my presumption, in consider-
ation of my acting by your father's command. You alarm me, Mr.
Clinton ; pray, proceed. Mr. Spelling, madam, at length has had
the assurance to declare his passion for you. Your father highly
approves of Mr. Spelling for a son-in-law ; and indeed, miss, might
I dare to speak my judgment, I know not where you could choose
to better advantage. If that is the case, Mr. Harry, I wish that I
also could be of the same opinion. And are you not, madam?
what objection can you form, what exception can you have, to my
friend Spelling? A very simple one, sir, and no better than this,
that he is not the man who can make me happy. I am sorry for it,
my dear Miss Golding, I am truly sorry for it ; were I to pick from
mankind, were I to choose throughout the world, if any one can
deserve you it is surely this same Spelling. And yet, Mr. Harry,
I remember to have seen the man who, in every grace and merit,
is infinitely preferable to your favourite Spelling. Where, when,
my dear miss ? When I am brought to the torture, I may possibly
be under the necessity of confessing. Pardon, pardon, sweet
madam ! I meant no offence ; and yet I wish to heaven I knew.
But that you never shall know, Mr. Harry. Pray then, madam,
if I may adventure on one question more, has the party so highly
favoured any knowledge of his own happiness? I hope not, Mr.
Harry ; but of what advantage could his knowledge prove to me, I
beseech you? Can you suppose that such a person as I have
described could deign to look with favour on such a one as I am ?
I do not believe, madam, that the man is in England who would
not think himself highly honoured, highly blessed, by your hand.
But then are you assured, miss, that this man is worthy of it?
Ah, there lies my misfortune! he is too worthy, too noble, too
accomplished, too lovely, too much every thing, for my wishes to
leave any thing to my hopes. And now, Mr. Harry, that I have
intrusted you with my secret, I hope you will not betray my con-
fidence, and reveal it to my papa. I rather trust and request that
you will use some other colour for reconciling him to my refusal of
Mr. Spelling : and, to make you some amends for the mortification
THE FOOL OF QUALITY. 187
I have given you, by rejecting your advocation in behalf of your
friend, I here engage never to marry without your approbation,
though I do not promise, sir, that you shall dictate to my choice.
There is one thing further, Mr. Clinton, in which you may oblige
me ; it is to prevail on my father to dismiss these assemblies and
revels that pester our house : indeed, they never were to my taste,
though by their novelty, at first, they might have helped to amuse
a little matter of melancholy that hung upon my mind ; but now
they are grown quite insufferable to me. Here her eye began to
fill, and, heaving a gentle sigh, she curtsied and withdrew.
Immediately my heart was softened and affected. I saw the
child of my friend and patron, the one in whom his hopes and
fortunes and very life were wrapt up I saw that she was unhappy,
that she was very unhappy, at a time that she had forbidden me
to attempt her relief, though I would gladly have parted with half
my fortune to have been enabled to give the object of her wishes
to her arms.
In the mean while, my dearest madam, it was the farthest of all
things from entering into my imagination, that I was the very
person who sat so near her heart. I daily saw the loveliest youths
and titled chiefs of the land attendant on her words and smiles, and
humbly suing for her favour ; I saw also, that her immense fortune
and rare attractions justly entitled her to their homage; and I was
neither vain enough, nor base enough, to attempt a competition.
As in myself I was wholly devoid of passion, I had neither
eyes nor apprehension for the discernment of hers. Though I had
often seen, I seldom had any kind of converse with her ; and where
the head is engaged and in a manner absorbed by business, there
is neither leisure nor room for love to enter the heart. On the
other hand, a person affected can instantly penetrate the bosom of
the party beloved, and there discern a vacant and insensible heart,
as legibly as a priest of Isis could decipher hieroglyphics.
One day, as I happened to pass near her antechamber, I heard the
warble, as I thought, of distant and ethereal music, i approached
toward the sound ; the door was on the jar, and, gently opening
it, I entered and stood behind her unperceived. She sat and sung
to her lute. The words were Shakspeare's, but sweetly set by
herself. They expressed that passage in his play of Twelfth Night,
where it is said of Viola,
" She never told her love,
But let concealment, like a worm i' the bud,
Feed on her damask cheek," &c.
Ah ! how affectingly did her instrument answer to her voice, while
she gently turned her sighs to the soft and melancholy cadences.
My breast was so swelled by a mixture of anguish and compassion,
that I could no longer wholly suppress a rising groan. Hereat
she started and turned ; and rising suddenly, her eyes shot fire, and
her face glowed with indignation and resentment. But, observing
the tears that still trickled down my cheeks, her countenance was
as suddenly changed into kindness, and she cast upon me a look
of inexpressible complacence.
188 THE FOOL OF QUALITY.
Ah, Mr. Harry ! says she, I see, I see that you have a gentle
and a kindred kind of heart ; and that, if ever you happen to love,
you will love with great tenderness. Have you ever loved,
Mr. Harry? Indeed, madam, I cannot say; my commerce has
been very little among the ladies. If I met love on my way, or
even found it in my heart, perhaps I should not rightly know
what to make of it. But, my Matilda, my charming sister (your
father has honoured me with the privilege of calling you by that
dear, that tender name), why will you not intrust your best, your
truest friend with the secret of your disquiet ? Whoever the object
of your esteem may be, I here solemnly engage, at the risk of my
life and the loss of my fortune, to bring him voluntarily to pay his
vows at your feet. O, my sister ! I would to heaven that he had
now been present, as I have been present, to have his soul melted
and minted as mine has been ; his heart must have been harder
than the stones of Thebes, if you did not attract it and move it at
pleasure, by the touch of those fingers, and the bewitchment of
those accents. Ah, you flatterer! she cried, with a voice tuned
to harmony, and a face formed of smiles, you almost tempt me to
tell you what, for the world, I would not wish that any one in the
world should know. But I must snatch myself from the danger.
So saying, and casting at me a vanishing glance, she was out of
sight in an instant.
As our suitors had now been dismissed, and our assemblies dis-
continued, Miss Golding seemed quite pleased with our domestic
quiet ; it gave us frequent occasions of being together ; and I
endeavoured, by a variety of tender offices and little amusements,
to dispel or divert the melancholy under which I thought she
laboured. I was greatly surprised at my own success on this
occasion; her cheerfulness returned; she discovered new and
striking graces in her manners and conversation, and in a little
time did not appear to want any consolation.
One day, being on the Exchange, I was accosted by a Jew, who
told me that he wanted a sum of money, and would either sell or
pawn to me a jewel of great price ; it was a solitaire, composed of
oriental pearls, with a diamond of the first water and magnitude
in the centre. After some chaffering, we agreed for three
thousand pieces, and I put it into my pocket-book. As my
business detained me on the Exchange till it was late, I dined
with two or three acquaintances at the chop-house, and did not
return till the evening was advanced.
On my entering I was told that Mr. Golding was abroad, and
that Miss Matilda had just ordered coffee for some ladies in her
dressing-room. Immediately I ran up and opened the door without
ceremony, but was instantly struck with the look which she turned
towards me a look that at once intimated dejection and disgust.
During coffee I endeavoured to behave with my usual unconcern,
but found it impossible to avoid sharing in that constraint under
which Miss Matilda most evidently laboured; in short, a gloomy
stifihess spread through the whole conversation, and I believe no
two persons in company were rightly satisfied with each other.
As soon as the cups were removed, the fair visitants got up;
THE FOOL OF QUALITY. 189
and as Miss Golding pressed them to stay, in a manner that rather
denoted her desire of their absence, they feigned a further engage-
ment, and very formally took their leave.
When she had seen them to the door, and that I had handed
them into their carriages, she turned without speaking to me, and
withdrew toward her own apartment. I followed, and as she was
about to enter My Matilda, my sister, said I, with a voice of
cordial tenderness, do your Harry the favour to accept this trifle,
as an instance of my regard for the daughter of my friend for the
dearest object upon earth of my esteem and aifection. So saying,
I presented her with my recent purchase. She did not, however,
even deign to look at it ; but, surveying me from head to foot with
an eye of strange passions, she took it and dashed it against the
floor, and, rushing into her chamber, she shut to the door upon me,
without speaking a word.
I stood in an inconceivable astonishment and concern. In vain
I searched and researched my memory for the recollection of some
instance wherein I might have offended her; but not presuming
to obtrude upon her, in order to question or expostulate with
her, I retreated to my apartment under the deepest dejection
of spirits.
Mr. Golding did not return till it was late in the evening. He
immediately sent for me. Harry, says he, what is the matter?
Has any thing happened amiss ? I never saw you look so discom-
posed. Indeed, sir, I am not as well as I could wish. Bless me,
we had better send for a doctor. No, sir, I am in hopes it will
soon be over. Where is Matilda? In her chamber, sir, I believe.
He then called Mrs. Susan, and bid her tell Matilda that he
desired to speak with her; but she answered that her mistress
was gone to bed indisposed, and requested that she might not
be disturbed.
Supper being served up, we sat down in silence ; and as neither
of us offered to take a bit, I rose, wished Mr. Golding a good-night,
and retired to my chamber.
After a sleepless night, my servant entered in a visible alarm,
and told me that Miss Golding was extremely ill, and that almost
all the physicians in London had been sent for.
Very unhappy were many succeeding days. I saw my friend, my
father, the man I loved above the world I saw him in a depth of
distress that bordered on distraction, and I found my heart wrung
with inexpressible anguish.
Though I was constant in my inquiries after Miss Golding, yet
I purposely avoided appearing in her presence, lest the sight of
one so obnoxious should add to her distemper. At length the good
old man came to me, wringing his hands Will you not go, Harry,
says he will you not go and see Matilda before she dies? The
doctors tell me they have tried all the powers of medicine, but that
they do not yet know what to make of her sickness.
My dear sir, said I, it is then no longer time to conceal from you
what I know or conjecture concerning this matter. Miss Matilda
herself intrusted me with the secret, but under the strictest
injunctions of silence ; the extremity of her case, however, ought
190 THE FOOL OF QUALITY.
to dispense with all such engagements. Your daughter loves,
sir she loves with passion ; but who the object of her affection
is, I cannot imagine. Let it be your part to discover what she so
industriously hides from the world ; she will refuse nothing to the
authority, or rather to the tenderness, of such a parent.
Here Mr. Golding left me, but returned in about an hour. His
whole frame seemed to labour with something extraordinary. You
were right, Harry, he cried ; you were right in your conjectures !
My prayers and my tears have at length prevailed ; with difficulty
I have wrung the secret from her. O, my son ! it is greatly in
your power to befriend us. Would you not do something for the
relief of a family who doat upon you as we do ? would you not do
something for your old friend, who loves you as fondly as ever
father loved a child ? Something for you, sir? said I. Yes, every
thing all things that are possible to be done. But pray, sir, do I
know the party ? You do, Harry, you do, he cried ; for, as the
prophet said unto David, Thou art the man !
Me, sir ! I exclaimed. Impossible ! she cannot bear my sight ;
she hates me she detests the ground I go upon. Not so, said
he not so ; she loves the very dust upon which you tread. Some-
thing surely is due in mitigation of the calamities which you have
occasioned. We lie at your mercy, Mr. Clinton, my precious
daughter and myself; it is yours to bid us live or die at your
pleasure ; to crush us into nothing, or to restore us to existence,
to health, to enjoyment. Will it hurt you, my son, to do us these
great benefits ? is it a matter grievous to give happiness to those
whose excessive love to you is their only misfortune ? A princely
fortune attends you. We and all we have are yours, Mr. Clinton.
We are desirous of depending on your bounty alone. Let the
extremeness of my daughter's affection for you excite something
more kindly than hatred in your breast. If not for her sake, yet
for mine, my beloved Harry, let me beseech you to constrain your-
self before her, to affect some little tenderness, some appearance of
regard, that may revive her, awhile at least, from the deplorable
state under which she languishes.
While he spoke, I was agitated by unutterable emotions, and he
might have proceeded much further before 1 should have had the
power to reply. At length, I cast myself on my knee, and catch-
ing his hand to my bosom Ah, my friend, my father, my dear
father! I cried; am I then no better than a barbarian in your
sight? To me would you impute such sentiments of cruelty and
ingratitude ? Take my hand, sir, take my heart, dispose of them
as you please. All that I have, and all I am, is yours and your
daughter's, without any kind of reserve for any other person
breathing.
The good man caught me in his arms, and pressed me to his
breast hi a long and speechless ecstasy; then, taking me by the
hand, he led me in silence to his daughter's apartment.
As we entered she turned her eyes toward the door, and her pale
and languid countenance was straight suffused with a short-lived
red. I was so affected by the condition in which I beheld her, that
I scarcely was able to reach her bedside, where, kneeling down,
THE FOOL OF QUALITY. 191
I gently took one of her hands, and pressing it between mine, 1
bathed it in a silent shower of tears.
Ah, my papa ! she faintly cried, I fear you have betrayed me ;
Mr. Clinton is certainly informed of my weakness. I am informed,
said I, my lovely, my all-beloved sister : I am informed that I am
permitted to hope for a happiness that is infinitely above my merit ;
but it shall be the delightful business of my life to deserve it.
My dear, said Mr. Golding, I perceive you are something
flustered ; your constitution is too weak for such emotions as these.
For the present, your brother Harry must leave you. To-morrow,
I trust, you will be better able to support our company.
Hereupon I took her hand, and, impressing upon it a tender and
warm kiss, I just ventured to look up, and saw her fine eyes
suffused with a glittering tear, and her countenance bent upon me
with a look of indescribable sweetness and delight ; but Mr. Golding,
to prevent the effects of too tender a scene, instantly took me by
the arm and led me away.
As he perceived that my spirits had been much disturbed, he
ordered a bottle to his own chamber, and told me that he requested
some further converse with me. As soon as we had taken our
seats, he looked earnestly upon me, then seized me by the hand, and
looked at me again. But, suddenly getting up, he turned and
stepped to the window, and breaking into tears, he there wept and
sobbed for good part of an hour.
As soon as he was somewhat composed, he resumed his seat.
Mr. Clinton, says he, are you really sincere in your professions with
respect to my daughter? Shall I be rid of my doubts at once?
May I venture to ask you a question on which my own life, as well
as that of my child, may depend ? Should it please the Almighty
to raise her from her present bed of sickness, is it actually your
intention to make her your wife ?
Here I demanded with some warmth Is that a question, sir, at
this time ? What reason have I given you to suspect my honour
or my truth? I do not suspect you, my Harry, I do not suspect
you ; I know you would not deceive me, but you may have deceived
yourself. Your nature is tender and full of pity, and in the de-
plorable state in which my girl lies, your great compassion may
have easily been mistaken by you for love. Your friendship for
me also may have helped to impose upon you, and you may have
construed your regard and attachment to the father into a sentiment
of tenderness and affection for the child. But oh, my Harry ! should
any other woman be preferable in your eyes, or should it not be
in my girl's power to win and wear your affections, I shall then
have been instrumental in making you wretched; and my heart
may as well be broken the one way as the other. No, my father,
no ! I have no foreign Delilahs, no secret amours, no pleasures that
shun the light. My heart is a virgin heart, and my Matilda
possesses it without a rival.
From the time that I was sensible of my father's partiality, a
little matter of ambition, whether laudable or otherwise, incited
me to attempt a distinction that would raise me toward a level with
an only brother, who looked down with neglect and contempt upon
192 THE FOOL OF QUALITY.
me. Thence I became indefatigable in my studies at school and
college, as also in my application under you, sir, during the first
years of my apprenticeship, and this left me no manner of leisure
for female attachments. Indeed, I dreaded the appearance of any
advances from the sex, and turned from them as I would from so
many gins or pitfalls purposely dug for my destruction. My con-
versation, sir, has been very little among the fair ; and, excepting
my natural propensity to the sex, I never, till very lately, conceived
a liking for any woman. In truth, my dear father, that lady is not
alive whom my judgment or inclinations would prefer to your
Matilda. You need not fear my being wretched I think myself
most happy in her affections.
Then, said he, I pronounce her the happiest of women. And
now, my Harry, I will tell you a secret. From the first time that
I beheld you, I wished you for my daughter ; I wished that she
might have charms to attract and fix your heart ; but as I feared,
and was persuaded that this was not the case, I forbore to indulge
myself in such flattering expectations. You know I never took you
with me to see her at the boarding-school ; the true reason was,
that I dreaded exposing her young and inexperienced heart to such
a temptation, lest she should conceive and languish under a hope-
less passion.
On her return to town my apprehensions on your score were
much abated, as I imagined that the great number of her gay and
glistering suitors would divide, or at least divert, her attention
from you, and I purposely laid all the business of our house on your
shoulders, that she might have as little of your company as possible.
I further had the precaution to warn my child against the danger
of any affection for you. Matty, said I one day, among all this
assembly of fair and fortunate youths you are free and welcome to
choose your companion for life ; there is only one who stands ex-
cepted only one whom you must not look upon with an eye of ex-
pectation. Who is that, papa? My younger brother and partner
in trade, said I. He looks much higher, Matty, than to the
daughter of a merchant. His prospects are immense. He is only
brother and heir to the Earl of Moreland, who is now on his travels,
a dissolute young man, whose vices in all likelihood will quickly
carry him off; and in such a case our Harry Clinton would be con-
sidered as the first person in the land.
Ah, sir ! I cried, I may bless your prohibition with regard to me ;
it was certainly the happy, the only, cause of my Matilda's par-
tiality in my favour. The good man smiled and proceeded. Not-
withstanding what I said to Matty, I had not given up all thoughts
of you myself. While she talked or sung in your presence I often
turned my eye upon you, and thought, at times, that I perceived
a growing tenderness in your behaviour, which further acquaintance,
I trusted, might ripen into love. But when, in order to try you,
I proposed your advocation in behalf of Spelling, and that you
appeared to undertake it with readiness and pleasure, I at once
dropped all my fond and flattering hopes concerning you, and I
heartily wished that my child had accepted that modest and worthy
young man. Blessed, however, be the favouring hand of thai
THE FOOL OF QUALITY. 193
Providence who, so unexpectedly, hath conducted matters to the issue
of this hour, and fulfilled the capital wish of my life. But I will
no longer delay carrying to my dear child the glad tidings of your
affections : it will prove the best of balms to her wounded mind,
and will close her eyes for this night in rest and peace of heart.
I was scarce dressed the next morning when Matilda's favourite
maid entered my chamber and bid me good-morrow. Mrs. Susan,
said I, your pleasant countenance bids me presume that Miss
Golding is better. O, vastly better vastly better, sir, I assure
you. She slept sweetly all the night, and did not want for happy
dreams neither, I warrant. Here is something for your good news.
No, sir, no, I never take money from gentlemen ; my mistress's
generosity does not leave me to the temptation. I love my mis-
tress, sir, and I think we ought all rather to join and fee you, as
well for yesterday's visit as for another which I hope you will pay
her to-day. A fiddle for these old doctors ; one pretty young doctor
is better worth than a score of them. Susan, as it should seem, had
been an observer, and did not want for penetration, in such matters.
Mr. Harry, she continued, I would give my last quarter's wages
to know what charm it is that you carry about you to make all the
pretty ladies so fond of you. In truth, Mrs. Susan, I am equally
a stranger to the charm and to the fondness that you talk of.
Don't tell me, sir don't tell me ! The very day of that night on
which my mistress fell sick, here was a lady in her chariot to in-
quire for you ; one of the loveliest young creatures I ever set my
eyes on. I know she asked very particularly and very affectionately
for you ; for, though it was my mistress to whom she spoke, I stood
within hearing. It must, I cried, have been some mistake or some
imposture ; for I assure you, Mrs. Susan, that I know of no such
person. But, pray, be so good as to bear my compliments to your
lady, and tell her I wait her permission to attend her.
I forgot to tell you, madam, that, agreeable to the advice which
Mr. Golding had given me, I went to felicitate my uncle Goodall
on his marriage with your mother. He had already been informed
of my recent admission into partnership, and thereupon received me
with very unusual marks of esteem and affection.
Your mother at that time was exceeding lovely in her person and
manners. At every season of leisure I frequented their house, and
she conceived a very tender and warm friendship for me ; but during
Miss Gol ding's illness I had not been to visit them.
Susan was but just gone when Mr. Golding came and told me that
he believed his Matty would be pleased to see me. I instantly obeyed
the summons. As I entered I observed that she sat up in her bed ;
a morning gown was wrapped about her, and Susan, with the help
of pillows, supported her behind. On my appearing her spirits
again took the alarm. She scarce ventured a glance toward me. I
was greatly pained by the abashment under which I saw she
laboured, and I hastened to relieve myself as well as her from the
distress.
I sat down by the bedside, and gently taking one of her hands,
without looking in her face My dear Miss Golding, said I, I hope
you will not be jealous of your papa's affection for me. He has,
o
194 THE FOOL OF QUALITY.
indeed, been too partial too generous towards me ; and has
approved himself more than a father to me. He is not satisfied
with allowing me to call you by the tender name of sister; he
further gives me leave to hope that I may be united to you by the
nearest and dearest of all ties. Nothing but your consent is
wanting, my sister, to make me the happiest of mankind. You are
silent, my Matilda ; may I venture to call you mine ? Blessed be
your silence, my angel, I will dare then to interpret it in my own
favour. Indeed, I should long since have made the present declara-
tion I should long since have avowed my inclinations, my affec-
tions, my passion for you ; but I did not presume to listen to my
own heart on the occasion I did not suffer it to tell me how much
you were beloved. Amidst so many suitors of the first rank and
merit, who were justly called together by your numberless attrac-
tions, I deemed it a flight by much too high for me to aspire at a
competition for the happiness of your hand.
Here, venturing to look up, I perceived that she had put her
handkerchief to her eyes. Ah, Mr. Clinton! she cried with a trem-
bling voice, you are very delicate, you are sweetly delicate indeed ;
but ought I to take the advantage of this delicacy ? I see that you
would save me from the confusion of an avowal you would save
me from the mortifying sensibility of my own weakness. But, sir,
you ought not to esteem that a weakness in me which I account
my chiefest merit, and which is my chiefest pride. I am proud of
my gratitude, I am proud of my discernment. From the moment
that you preserved me against arms and against odds, at the great
peril of your own life, in you and you alone I saw every thing that
was amiable, every thing that was excellent. But then I dreaded
lest all women should behold you with my eyes ; and, above all,
I doubly dreaded and was fearfully assured that you never would
have any eyes or attention for me. You have at length seen, or
are rather informed, concerning my malady. You pity me, you
wish to relieve me, and you would love me if you could. It is
enough, Mr. Harry ; even this, perhaps, is quite as much of happi-
ness as I can bear.
Here, again, I began to profess and to protest the sincerity and
ardour of my affections ; but she cut me short and said I know
your sincerity, sir ; you are persuaded that you love me, because as
yet you know not what love is. True love, Mr. Harry, by its own
light sees into and throughout the bosom of the party beloved ; I
am very sensible of the tenderness of your friendship for me, and
that sensibility constitutes the whole of my happiness. I trust, also,
that it is all the happiness I shall ever desire. To see you, to hear
you, to have you with me, to gaze upon you while you are looking
another way, to be permitted to attend, to serve you, to conduce to
your satisfactions, it is a lot that will lift me above that of
mortality, that will cause me to account myself the first among
women.
Ah ! I cried, can I say nothing, can I do nothing to convince you
how dear, how exceedingly dear, you are to me ? I certainly loved
you long before I knew what it was to be a lover. I now feel the
united force of those imperceptible degrees by which the pleasing
TEE FOOL OF QUALITY. 195
intruder daily stole and grew upon me. Believe me, my Matilda,
when I presumed to present you with this as a token of my affec-
tion, I held it for a trifle altogether unworthy of you ; accept it,
however, I beseech you, for the sake of the giver.
And is this the gem, says she, which I cast from me with such
disdain ? Forgive me, my brother ; it is just so that the world
casts from them the pearl of much mightier price. I would to
heaven that I could reject all the pomps, pleasures, and vanities of
this transitory world, with the same aversion that I spurned from
me this estimable jewel ; but there is very little hope of that, Mr.
Harry, while you yourself may be partly numbered among transitory
things.
Here I was quite overcome by the affection of the dear girl, and,
urged on by a sudden transport, I caught her to my bosom with a
force that was something too much for her weakness. On recollec-
tion, I attempted to apologize for my indiscretion, but she sweetly
cried Ah, Mr. Harry! never repent of such faults; may I often,
may I daily tempt you to be guilty of them. But tell me, and tell
me truly, Mr. Clinton ; these gems, when you first purchased them,
were they actually intended for me ? were they not rather intended
for your Fanny, for your own Fanny, Mr. Clinton ? What can you
mean? I exclaimed. I know of no Fanny in the universe with
whom I have any acquaintance. That is strange ! she replied ;
very extraordinary, indeed ! But, lest you should think me of a
jealous or whimsical temper, I will relate the aftair to you precisely
as it happened.
On the day in which I took to my bed, I was looking out at the
parlour window, when a chariot and four horses whirled up to our
door. I observed a single lady in it, whom I supposed of my
acquaintance, and instantly sent Susan to request her to walk in.
On her entering, I was greatly struck by the beauty of her figure,
and eyed her very inquisitively from head to foot. Having curtsied
gracefully to me Can you tell me, miss, said she, is Mr. Clinton at
home ? No, indeed, madam, said I ; but if you will be pleased to
intrust me with your commands It is only, miss, that I request
to see him as soon as possible. And pray, madam, where shall he
attend you? 0, he will know that instantly, when you tell him it
was Fanny Goodall his own Fanny Gfoodall, who was here to
wait upon him. Good heaven! I cried out; my aunt, my aunt,
my aunt Goodall ; my very aunt, I assure you ! What do you say,
what do you tell me ; your aunt, sir, can it be ? Ah ! she is too
young and too lovely to be an aunt, Mr. Harry. The very same
indeed, madam ; there is no other Fanny Goodall. I admit, as you
say, that she is young and exceedingly lovely ; but still she is a
wife, and likely soon, as I think, to be a mother. Alas ! says my
Matilda, what a doleful jest is this ! A cruel aunt she has been to
me, I am sure ; what days of sighs and nights of tears she has cost
me ! Ah, that heart-breaking term, " his own, his own Fanny ; " I
think I shall never be able to forgive her that expression !
As Mr. Golding just then entered, we dropped the subject we
were upon. Why, Matty, says he, you are quite another creature
I think I never saw yow wear so happy a face. I know you are
02
196 TEE FOOL OF QUALITY.
come to chide me, says she, for keeping your partner from business ;
but pay me down the portion you intended for me, papa, and I will
reimburse you the damage of every hour of his absence. Yes, my
love, cries the tender father, if wealth might serve for wages to a
heart like that of my Harry, he shall be very amply paid for every
act and instance of his affection and attention to you. Every
hour of my life, I cried, is already her due ; she has nothing to pay
to one who is her debtor beyond account.
During several following days, Miss Golding recovered with
amazing rapidity. In less than five weeks she looked plumper and
fairer than ever ; peace smiled in her countenance ; joy laughed in
her eyes ; her whole frame appeared as actuated by some internal
music. And thus, all lovely and beloved, she was given up to my
arms in the presence of my uncle and aunt and a few city friends.
Friend. As I wish that none of your faults should pass by me
unnoticed, so I am willing to allow you all your just praises. Your
story of your old friend is, hitherto, very simple, natural, and domes-
tic ; and to a mind yet undebauched, exceedingly interesting and
affecting ; for it opens and investigates a number of little passages
and mazes in the heart, which are quite closed, or imperceptible to
persons of hard nerves and callous conceptions. I am free, how-
ever, to tell you that I felt myself offended by the compliments
which Mr. Clinton pays to himself through the mouth of your
Matilda. It is, indeed, a very rare matter for people to speak of
themselves with due decency and delicacy. I wish you could have
procured some other conduit for conveying to us the history of
your knight. Csesar, I think, is the only person who, with an easy
though modest confidence, has successfully adventured on a detail
of his own exploits.
Author. I have not a word to say in Mr. Clinton's defence;
perhaps ho may offer something for himself on the occasion.
CHAPTER XIV.
HEBE the countess, for the first time, broke in upon her cousin's
narration. Happy Matilda, she cried, how distinguished was thy
destiny ! were it but for a year, were it but for a day ; for that
day thou didst yet enjoy the consummation of all thy wishes, a
lot rarely allowed to any daughter of Adam ! I was not then born
to envy her state. Sweet girl ! she deserved you ; she was after
my own heart ; the excess of her passion for you made her truly
worthy of you. But tell me, my cousin, how could you be so long
ignorant of the dear girl's affection for you ? The language of love
is so very intelligible, so expressive through every motion and
every organ, as must with sufficient clearness have opened your
eyes to the object. Indeed, madam, replied Mr. Clinton, she her-
self led me away from any such apprehensions, by drawing so
many pictures of the man whom she said she loved, all copied from
the creature of her own brain, and covered and disguised with such
THE FOOL OF QUALITY. 197
imaginary excellences, as must have prevented myself, as well as
every one living, from perceiving therein the smallest trace of my
own resemblance. Do not tell me, cried Lady Maitland ; she was
a true and a sweet painter, and I should have known you by her
portrait in the midst of a million. But proceed, I beseech you,
my whole soul is in your story.
Within a few months after my marriage, continued Mr. Clinton,
you, my cousin, first opened your fair eyes to the light, and my
Matty and I had the honour of being your sponsors.
Within the first year of my marriage, my girl also brought a son
into the world, and within two years following was delivered
of a daughter.
The joy of the grandfather, on those events, was indescribable.
Alas, good man! he thought that he perceived in their infant
aspects a thousand happy promises and opening prospects. He
saw himself, as it were, perpetuated in a descending and widening
progeny, who, like their native Thames, should roll down in a tide
of expanding wealth and prosperity. He wanted that all the
world should participate of his happiness, and our house once more
became the house of festivity.
A number of external successes also assisted to persuade us in
those days that felicity was to be attained and ascertained upon
earth. The regency of Cromwell was administered with the
strictest justice at home, while at the same time it became re-
vered and formidable abroad, and extended its influence to regions
the most remote. Under the protection of the British flag we
sent our ships out to the east and to the west, and wealth came
pouring in upon us from all quarters of the globe.
In the mean while, my wife and I lived together in perfect
harmony. Though my commerce and acquaintance was greatly
extended, I had yet formed no friendships from home that par-
took of heartfelt tenderness, except for your mamma. All my
pleasures and desires all my world was, in a manner, confined
and absorbed within the compass of my own walls. In the good
old man and his daughter, and in the pledges of their endearing
attachment to me, every wish that my soul could form was
centred. Mutual joy sat round our board mutual peace pre-
pared our pillows; and, during a swimming period of six years,
I scarce remember to have experienced the smallest discontent,
save what arose from the inordinancy of my wife's affection for me.
While she continued to bless my arms, I thought that no one
had ever loved with greater warmth than I loved her ; and yet,
at times, I remarked a very striking difference between the manner
and effects of our feelings for each other. If business detained
me an hour extraordinary abroad, the panting of her bosom, that
eagerness of look with which she received me, was to me a painful
evidence of her anxiety during my absence. One evening I found
her in fainting fits, merely because she was told that a duel had
just happened between Lord Mohun and a person who had much
the resemblance of her Clinton. In short, if my head or my finger
ached I found myself under the necessity of concealing my ailment,
and of assuming a cheerfulness disagreeable to the occasion, to
198 THE FOOL OF QUALITY.
prevent the worse consequences of her ready alarms. On the
other hand, my affection was tranquil and serene ; it was tender
and fervent, indeed, but without tumult or disturbance a species
of love which I afterwards found to be by far the most eligible ;
for every kind of passion is unquestionably a kind of suffering;
love in God, therefore, must be wholly an action it acts infinitely
upon others without any possibility of being acted upon.
Thus the years of my life moved onward upon down, when the
small-pox, that capital enemy to youth and beauty, became epi-
demical in the city. Our children caught the contagion. All
possible care was taken, and all possible art employed. A number
of physicians was kept constantly about them. Fifteen days of
their illness were already elapsed, and the doctors pronounced
them out of danger, when the distemper took a sudden and ma-
lignant turn, and in one and the same minute both my babes ex-
pired in the arms of their mother.
I was in the room at the time, and as I knew the extreme
tenderness of my Matty's nature, all my concern as well as
attention was turned upon her. I took her fondly by the hand,
and, looking up to her face, I was instantly alarmed and shocked
by that placid serenity which appeared in her countenance, and
which I expected to be quickly changed into some frantic eruption.
But first dropping a smiling tear on her infants, and then lifting
her glistening eyes to heaven I thank thee I thank thee, my
Master ! she cried ; thou hast made me of some use ; I have not
been born in vain; thou hast ordained me the humble vehicle
of two safe and certain angels living attendants on thy throne
and sweet singers of thy praises in the kingdom of little children
for ever and for ever. I have yet sufficient left more blessings re-
maining than suit the lot of mortality take me from them, I
beseech thee, whenever it is thy good pleasure ; for I fear there
are some of them which I could not bear to have taken away from
me ! So prayed the dear saint, and looking eagerly at me No, my
Harry, she cried out, I fear, I fear I could not bear it ! So saying,
she suddenly cast herself into my bosom, and grasping at my neck,
and gushing into a flood of anguish, we mingled our sobs and our
tears together till no more were left to be shed.
You are affected, my dearest cousin: I had better stop here.
If you are moved by small matters, how would your heart be
wrung by some ensuing distresses ? I must not venture to proceed.
Go on, cried the countess ; go on I insist upon it ! I love to
weep I joy to grieve it is my happiness, my delight, to have per-
fect sympathy in your sorrows.
We were both of us much relieved by the vent of our mutual
passion ; for though my wife still continued to keep to me, and
cling about me, she yet seemed to be sweetly composed, and sunk
within my arms as into a bed and depth of peace.
At length I listened to a kind of murmur and bustle in the hall,
and I heard some one distinctly cry O my master, my master !
We started up at the instant. Mr. Goldins: had been from home
at the time of the deadly crisis of my two darling little ones ; and
had quieted all his fears, and renewed all his prospects, in the view
THE FOOL OF QUALITY. 199
and full assurance of their life and quick recovery. We had been
too much engaged and occupied in our own personal griefs, to give
to our servants the seasonable precaution of breaking the matter to
our father by unal arming degrees ; and a rude fellow, at his en-
trance, bluntly told him that the children were both dead ; where-
upon he clapped his hands together, and, casting himself into a
chair, remained without sense or motion.
When we ran out, we were greatly terrified by the manner of
his aspect : though his eyes were closed, his brows were gloomy
and contracted, while the nether part of his face looked quiet and
composed.
I instantly sent for a surgeon, and recalled the physicians who
had but lately left us ; while my Matty stood motionless, with her
hands closed together, and her eyes fixed upon her father. At
length she cried out My papa, my papa, my dear papa ! I would,
I would I had died before I came to this hour ! But blessed be thy
will, since it is thy will, God ! When all other props are sapped
and plucked from under me, I trust to fall into thee, my Father
which art in heaven !
Being put to bed and bled, he recovered motion and speech,, and
we got him to swallow a composing draught, though he did not
yet recollect any person or thing about him.
Notwithstanding our late fatigues, Matty and I sat up with him
most of the night ; and then ordering a pallet to be brought
into the room, we lay down to take a little rest toward morning.
Alas, said I to myself, how rich was I yesterday, and how is my
world abridged ! These narrow walls now contain all that is left
me of all the possessions that I value upon earth.
Poor Mr. Golding was but ill qualified to bear calamity. His
life had been a life of sound health and successes ; and he never
had been acquainted with sickness or with affliction, save on the
death of his wife, whom he had married for money, and on the ill-
ness of his daughter, as already related.
As he had taken an opiate, he did not awaken till it was late in
the day. Turning his head towards me Is it you, Harry? says
he. How do you find yourself, sir? said I. Why, has anything
been the matter with me ? Indeed, I do not feel myself right ;
but send my children to me : send my Jacky and my little Harriet ;
the sight of them will be a restorative beyond all the cordials in the
world. You are silent, Harry ; what is the meaning ? Oh, now I
begin to remember my sweet babies, my little playfellows, I shall
never see you any more !
Here he burst into the most violent gust of passion. He groaned,
he wept, he cried aloud with heart-piercing exclamations ; while I
caught up Matty in my arms, and running with her to a distant
apartment, catched a kiss, and locked her in.
I returned, but found him in the same violence of agitation. I
spoke to him, I would have comforted him; but he cried Be
quiet, Harry, I will not be comforted. I will go to my children ;
they shall not be torn from me ; we will die, we will be buried, we
will lie in the same grave together !
As I found myself sick, and ready to faint under the oppression
200 THE FOOL OF QUALITY.
of his lamentations, I withdrew to the next chamber, and there
plentifully vented my woe in weeping.
After some time I listened, and perceived that all was quiet, and
returning, I found him in a kind of troubled doze, from whence he
fell into a deep and peaceful sleep. Thus he continued for three
days, wailing and slumbering by fits, without tasting any matter of
nourishment, though his daughter and I implored him on our knees,
and with tears. No reasonings^ no entreaties, could avail for appeas-
ing hhn ; it was from the association of our sorrows alone that he
appeared to admit of any consolation.
At length his passion subsided into a sullen and silent calm ; he
would speak to nobody, he would answer none of us except by
monosyllables.
Within a few following weeks, news was brought me that our
ship the Phoenix was arrived in the Downs, safe and richly laden
from the East Indies.
Immediately I carried the tidings to the old man, in the pleasing
expectation that they would serve to divert, or at least to amuse,
his melancholy. But, fixing his look upon me Wherefore, Harry,
dost thou tell me of ships and Indies ? he cried. Both Indies are
poor to me ; they have nothing that they can send me. I have no
road to go upon earth; no way upon sea to navigate. I am
already become a wild and wasted Babylon, \dierein the voice
of music shall never more be heard. O ye old and unblessed
knees! where are now your precious babes who were wont to
play about ye, and to cling and climb upon ye? Gone, gone!
gone, gone never, never to return !
Here, breaking into tears, I cried We are both young yet, my
father ; we may yet have many children to be the comfort of
your age. No, my Harry no, he replied; you may indeed have
many children, but you will never have any children like my
darling children.
Mr. Golding from this time no more entered his counting-house,
nor paid nor received visits, nor kept up any correspondence.
Even my company, and that of his daughter, appeared to oppress
him ; and he rarely left his apartment, where an old folio Bible
was his only companion.
Hereupon I began to withdraw our effects from trade, and,
having called in the best part of them, I lodged near half a million
in the Dutch funds. When I went to advise with my father on
the occasion What, my child, said he what have I to say to the
world, or to the things of the world ? Do just as you please with
the one and with the other ; and never consult a person on any
affair wherein the party consulted has no interest or concern.
One morning, as I lay in bed, Matty threw her arms about me,
and hiding her blushing face in my bosom My Harry, says she, if
you could handsomely bring it about to my poor papa, perhaps it
would be some matter of consolation to him to know that I am
with child.
When I broke the matter to him, he did not at first appear to be
sensibly affected ; in time, however, the weight of his affliction
seemed considerably lightened, and, as my wife advanced in her
THE FOOL OF QUALITY. 201
pregnancy, he began to look us in the face, he sat with us at one
table, and became conversable as formerly.
One day I went to dine with Mr. Settle, a hardware merchant,
who had appointed to pay me a large sum of money. On my
return in the evening through Moorfields, attended only by my
favourite Irishman, a very faithful and active fellow, though it was
yet fair day, I was suddenly set upon by a posse of robbers, who
rushed on me from behind a cover. The first of them, running up,
fired directly in my face, but did me no further damage than by
carrying away a small piece of the upper part of my left ear. Had
the fools demanded my money, I would have given it to them at a
word; but, finding them bent on murder, I resolved that they
should have my life at as dear a rate as possible. I instantly drew
my sword, and run the first through the body ; and then, rushing
on the second assailant, I laid him also on the ground before he
had time to take his aim, so that his pistol went harmlessly off
in his fall.
In the mean while my brave and loving companion was not idle ;
with two strokes of his oaken cudgel he had levelled two more of
them with the earth. Hereupon the remainder halted, retreated
into a group, and then stood and fired upon us altogether ; but, ob-
serving that we did not drop, they cast their arms to the ground,
and run ofl several ways as fast as they could. My good friend,
Tirlah O'Donnoh, then turned affectionately to me Are you hurt,
my dear master? says he. I believe I am, Tirlah; let us make
home the best we can. O, cried the noble creature, if nobody was
hurt but Tirlah, Tirlah wouldn't be hurt at all !
Here, taking me under the arm, we walked slowly to the city,
till, coming to a hackney-coach, he put me tenderly into it ; and,
sitting beside me, supported me, as I began to grow weak through
much effusion of blood.
As soon as we got home, the coachman, as is their practice,
thundered at the door ; and my Matty, according to custom
whenever I was abroad, was the readiest of all our domestics to
open.
By this time I had fainted, and was quite insensible ; but when
my tender and true mate saw me borne by two men into her pre-
sence, all pale and bloody, she, who thought she had fortitude to
support the wreck of the world, gave a shriek that w r as enough to
alarm the neighbourhood, and, instantly falling backward, got a
violent contusion in the hinder part of her head.
Immediately we were conveyed to separate beds, and all requisite
help was provided. It was found that I had received six or seven
flesh wounds, but none of them proved dangerous, as they were
given at a distance, and by pistol shot. But, alas ! my Matty's case
was very different; she fell into sudden and premature labour,
and having suffered extreme anguish all the night, during which
she ceased not to inquire after me, she was with difficulty delivered
of a male infant, who was suffocated in the birth.
In the mean while, the good and tender-hearted old gentleman
hurried about incessantly from one of us to the other, wringing his
hands, and scarcely retaining his senses.
202 THE FOOL OF QUALITY.
As soon as my wounds were dressed, and I had recovered my
memory, I looked about and hastily inquired for my wife ; but they
cautiously answered me that she was something indisposed with the
fright which she got at seeing me bloody, and that her father had
insisted on her going to bed.
On the second dressing of my wounds I was pronounced out of
danger, and then they ventured to tell me of my Matty's miscar-
riage, and of the bruise which she had got in her fall when she
fainted. On hearing this my heart was cleft, as it were, in twain.
I accused myself of the murder of my wife and infant; and I
accused all, without exception, of their indiscretion in not con-
cealing my disaster from her.
At times I began to fear that my wife was either dead, or much
worse than they represented. On my third dressing, therefore, I
peremptorily insisted on my being carried into her chamber. I
sent her notice of my visit, and on entering the room He lives,
then, she cried ; my husband, my Harry lives ! It is enough ; I
shall die happy, I shall now depart in peace.
Here I ordered myself to be laid by her side, when taking a
hand which she had feebly reached out, and pressing it to my lips
You would forsake me then, my Matty ? You die, you say ; and
you die happy, in leaving me the most wretched, the most desolate
of men. You die, my love you die ; and I, who would have
fostered you and your babe with my vitals, it is I who has dug
a grave for the one and for the other. But you must not forsake
me, my Matty. I will not be forsaken by you ; since we cannot
live asunder, let us die let us die together !
Here a passionate silence ensued on either part ; but my wounds
growing painful, and beginning to bleed afresh, I was obliged to be
carried back to my own apartment.
Within a few days more I was so well recovered as to be able to
walk about ; from which time I was a constant attendant on my
beloved, and became her most tender and assiduous nursekeeper.
You must have heard, my cousin, that the customs and manners
of those times were altogether the reverse of what they are at
present. Hypocrisy is no longer a fault among men; all now is
avowed libertinism and open profaneness; and children scoff at
the name and profession of that religion which their fathers
revered. On the contrary, in those days all men were either real
or pretended zealots ; every mechanic professed, like Aaron, to
carry a Urim and Thummim about him ; and no man would
engage in any business or bargain, though with an intent to over-
reach his neighbour, without going apart, as he said, to consult the
Lord.
My Matty, at the same time, was the humblest of all saints, with-
out any parade of sanctification. Hers was a religion, of whose
value she had the daily and hourly experience ; it was indeed a
religion of power. It held her, as on a rock, in the midst of a
turbulent and fluctuating world : it gave her a peace of spirit that
smiled at provocation ; it gave her comfort in affliction, patience in
anguish, exaltation in humiliation, and triumph in death.
In about five weeks after her unhappy miscarriage, she appeared
THE FOOL OF QUALITY. 203
on the recovery, though by very slow degrees, and, with assist-
ance, at times sat up in her bed ; when her oldest physician one
morning called me apart I am loth, sir, said he, very loth to
acquaint you with my apprehensions. I wish I may be mistaken ;
but I fear greatly for you I fear that your dear lady cannot re-
cover. By the symptoms, I conjecture that an abscess, or im-
posthume, is forming within her ; but a few days will ascertain
matters either for us or against us.
Had all sorts of evil tidings come crowding one upon another, I
should not have been affected as I then was affected. I could not
rise from my seat to bid the doctor adieu. My knees trembled
under me ; a swimming came before my eyes ; and a sudden sick-
ness relaxed and reversed my whole frame. Alas ! I had not at
that time the resource of my Matty ; I had not on the armour with
which she was armed to all issues and events. I however raised
my thoughts to heaven, in a kind of helpless acquiescence rather
than confident resignation. I struggled not to appear weaker than
became my manhood ; and I said to myself, doctors have often
been mistaken.
Having recollected my strength and spirits the best I could, I
adventured to enter my wife's apartment. She was just raised in
her bed, from whence her pale and emaciated countenance looked
forth, as the sun, toward his setting, looks through a sickly atmo-
sphere, in confidence of his arising in the fulness of morning glory.
Having cautiously and dejectedly seated myself beside her, she
reached out both her hands, and, pressing one of mine between
them I love you no longer, my Harry, she cried ; I love you no
longer. Your rival at length has conquered ; I am the bride of
another. And yet I love you in a measure, since in you I love
all that is him, or that is his : and that I think is much, a great
deal, indeed, of all that is lovely. O, my dear, my sweet, mine
only enemy, as I may say ! riches were nothing unto me, pleasures
were nothing unto me, the world was nothing unto me ! You, and
you only, Harry stood between me and my heaven, between me
and my God. Long, and often, and vainly, have I strove and
struggled against you; but my bridegroom at length is become
jealous of you ; my true owner calls me from you, and takes me
all to himself ! Be not alarmed then, my Harry, when I tell you that
I must leave you. You will grieve for me you will grieve greatly
for me, my beloved ; but give way to the kindly shower that your
Lord shed for his Lazarus, and let the tears of humanity alleviate
and lighten the weight of your affliction. Ah, my Harry ! I tremble
for you ; what a course you have to run ! what perils ! what
temptations! Deliver him from them, my Master, deliver him
from them all! Again, what blissful prospects they are gone,
they are vanished ! I sink, I die under the weight and length of
succeeding misery ! Again it opens ; all is cleared ; and his end,
like that of Job, is more blessed than his beginning. Ah, my
Harry, my Harry ! your heart must be wrung by many engines ;
it shall be tried in many fires ; but I trust it is a golden heart, and
will come forth with all its weight.
You have been dreaming, my love, I said you have been
204 TEE FOOL OF QUALITY.
dreaming; and the impression still lies heavy and melancholy on
your memory.
Yes, she replied, I have been dreaming, indeed ; but then my
dreams are much more real than my waking visions. When all
things sensible are shut out, it is then that the spirit enlarges,
grows conscious of its own activity, its own power and prescience,
and sees by a light whose evidence is beyond that of the sun.
O, my angel! I cried, should anything happen to you But, I
dare not look that way ; for I know, I find, I feel that I could not
survive you!
You must survive me, my Harry ! nay, you will once more be
married. I beheld your bride last night. Even now she stands
before me, the sister of my spirit, and one of the loveliest composi-
tions of sin and death that ever was framed for dissolution. Her
also you will lose ; and you will think, nay, you will assure your-
self, that no powers in heaven or earth can avail for a ray of
comfort. In this life, however, you will finally, unexpectedly, and
most wonderfully be blessed ; and soon after we shall all meet, and
be more intimately and more endearingly wedded than ever, where
yet there is neither marrying nor giving in marriage.
"While yet she spoke, her pains, as the pains of labour, again came
upon her, and went off, and again returned, after intermitting
swoonings.
0, my cousin ! what a solemn, what a fearful thing is death ! All
our inlets of knowledge and sensation closed at once ! the sound of
cheer, and the voice of friendship, and the comfort of light, shut
out from us for ever ! Nothing before us but a blackness and depth
of oblivion ; or, beyond it, a doubtful and alarming sensibility !
strange scenes and strange worlds, strange associates and strange
perceptions, perhaps of horrid realities, infinitely worse than non-
entity ! Such are the brightest prospects of infidelity in death !
Where, at that time, are your scoffers, your defiers of futurity?
where your merry companions, who turn their own eternity into
matter of laugh and ridicule ? Dejected and aghast, their counten-
ance wholly fallen, and their heart sunk within them, they all
tremble and wish to believe, in this the hour of dissolution. They
feel their existence sapped and sinking from under them; and
nature compels them, in the drowning of their souls, to cry out to
some thing, to any thing, Save, save, or I perish !
Far different was the state of my little and lowly Matty, my saint
of saints, at that tremendous period ! Where all others would have
sunk, there she soared aloft ; and she dropped the world and its
wealth, with her body and all the sensible affections thereof, with
the same satisfaction that a poor man, just come to a great estate,
would drop his tattered garb to put on gorgeous apparel.
O, my beloved ! she would cry in the midst of her pains, I have
been weakly through life, I have been weakness itself, and therefore
not able to take up thy cross ; but be thou strong in my weakness,
shew thy mightiness in me, and then lay it upon me with all its
weight.
Again, after a swoon, and when her pangs became excessive I
refuse not thy process, my Master ! she cried. Thy cross and thorny
TEE FOOL OF QUALITY. 205
crown, they are all my ambition! Point thy thorns, twist them
harder, let them pierce into my soul ; so thou suffer me not to fail or
fall from thee, I care not !
Think, my cousin, what I endured upon that occasion; my
rending heart shared her sufferings, and felt pang for pang. Nay,
I was not far from murmuring and questioning with my God, on
his putting to such tortures the most guiltless of his creatures. If
the lambs of thy flock, I secretly said if thy lambs are appointed
to such excruciating sensations, what must be the portion of such
sinners as I am !
When she drew near the goal of her blessed course upon earth
O my almighty Samson ! she faintly cried, thou shakest the two
pillars of my frail and sinful fabric ; finish then thy conquest in me ;
down, down with the whole building appointed to ruin ! Let no
one, O Lord ! of mine enemies or of thine enemies, escape thy
victorious arm ; but slay all those by my death with whom I have
been vainly combating during my lifetime. So saying, her pains in
an instant forsook her. The form of her countenance was suddenly
changed from the expression of agony into that of ecstasy. She
raised her hands on high, and exerting herself to follow them, she
cried I come, I come ! then sighed and dropped over. The
muscles of her face still retained the stamp of the last sentiment of
her soul ; and, while the body hastened to be mingled with earth,
it seemed to partake of that heaven to which its spirit had been
exalted.
You may think it odd, dearest madam, that for some time past I
have taken no note of the man to whom I was tied by every
possible band of duty, gratitude, and affection. The fact is, that,
during the latter part of my wife's illness, and for some weeks after
her death, Mr. Golding was confined to his chamber by a severe
fit of the gout; and the acuteness of his pains scarce permitted
him to attend to any other concern. While my Matty lived, there-
fore, I divided my time and assiduities as equally as I could between
the daughter and father ; and at any intervals of ease I used to
read to him favourite passages in the Bible.
As soon as my saint had expired, I charged the servants not to
give any intimation of her death to their master. But, alas ! our
silence and our looks were too sure indicators of the fatal tidings ;
for, from the highest to the least, my Matty had been the idol of
the whole house, and her death appeared to them as the loss of
every earthly possession.
Having looked several times intently and inquisitively in my face
Well, Harry, says Mr. Golding, all is over then, I see ; we must
go to her, but my child shall no more return to us. You are silent,
my Harry. O thou fell glutton, Death ! I had but one morsel left
for the whole of my sustenance, and that, too, thou hast devoured.
Here he gave a deep groan, and sunk into a state of insensibility,
from which, however, he was soon recovered by the return of an
anguishing fit of the gout.
When I look back, my fair cousin, on the passages of my life, it
is a matter of amazement to me, that a creature so frail, so feebly
and so delicately constituted as man, with nerves so apt to be racked,
206 THE FOOL OF QUALITY.
and a heart to be wrung with anguish, can possibly endure under
the weights of calamity that at times are laid upon him.
I had not yet dropped a tear. I was in a state of half stupid and
half flighty insensibility ; as one who, having lost every thing, had
nothing further to look for, and therefore nothing to regard.
But when I saw my dear old man, my best friend, my father,
whelmed under such a depth of affliction, all the sluices of my soul
and inmost affections were laid open, and I broke into an avowed
passion of tears and exclamations, till, like David in his strife of
love with Jonathan, I exceeded. I accused myself of all the evils
that had happened to his house ; and I devoted the day to dark-
ness, and the night to desolation, wherein, by my presence and
connections, I had brought those mischiefs upon him. The good
man was greatly struck, and I think partly consoled, by the excess
of my sorrows ; and, all desolate as he was, he attempted to ad-
minister that comfort to me, which he himself wanted more than
any who had life.
Break not your heart, my Harry break not your heart, my child!
he cried. Deprive me not of the only consolation that is left me ;
you are now my only trust, my only stay upon earth. A wretched
merchant I am, whose whole wealth is cast away, save thee, thou
precious casket, thou only remnant of all my possessions ! My girl,
indeed, was thy true lover, the tenderest of all mates ; her love to
thee, my son, was passing the love of woman ; but we have lost her,
we have lost her, and wailing is all the portion that is left us below.
As soon as the family heard the voice of our mourning, they too
gave a loose to the impatience of their griefs, and all the house was
filled with the sound of lamentation.
On the following day I summoned the chief medical artists, and
got the precious remains of my angel embalmed. She was laid
under a sumptuous canopy with a silver coffin at her bed's foot, and
every night when the house was at rest I stole secretly from my bed
and stretched myself beside her. I pressed her cold lips to mine ;
I clasped her corpse to my warm bosom, as though I expected to
restore it to life by transfusing my soul into it. I spoke to her as
when living : I reminded her of the several tender and endearing
passages of our loves ; and I reminded her also of the loss of our
little ones, by whom we became essentially one, inseparably united
in soul and body for ever.
There is surely, my cousin, a species of pleasure in grief, a kind of
soothing and deep delight, that arises with the tears which are
pushed from the fountain of God in the soul, from the charities and
sensibilities of the human heart divine.
True, true, my precious cousin, replied the countess, giving a
fresh loose to her tears. O Matilda ! I would I were with thee !
True, my cousin, I say ; even now I sink under the weight of the
sentiment of your story.
Upon the ninth night, continued Mr. Clinton, as I lay by the side
of all that remained of my Matty, overtoiled and overwatched, I
fell into a deep sleep. My mind notwithstanding, at the time,
seemed more awake and more alive to objects than ever. In an
instant she stood visible and confessed before me. I saw her
THE FOOL OF QUALITY. 207
clearer than at noonday, by the light which she cast with profusion
abroad. Every feature and former trace seemed heightened into a
lustre, without a loss of the least similitude. She smiled ineffable
sweetness and blessedness upon me ; and, stooping down, I felt her
embrace about my heart and about my spirit ; while, at the same
time, I saw her bent in complacence before me. After a length of
ecstatic pleasure, which I felt from her communion and infusion into
my soul My Harry, says she, grieve not for me ! All the delights
that your world could sum up in an age, would not amount to my
bliss, no, not for an hour : it is a weight of enjoyment that, in an
instant, would crush to nothing the whole frame of your mortality.
Grieve not then for me, my Harry, but resign my beggarly spoils to
their beggarly parent ; ashes to ashes, and dust to dust ! In my
inordinate fondness for you, I have at length obtained a promise
that my master and your master, my beloved and your lover, shall
finally bear you triumphant through all the enemies that are set in
fearful array against you. Having so said, I felt myself, as it were,
compressed within an engine of love ; and again losing the remem-
brance of all that had passed, I sunk as into a state of oblivion.
Toward the dawning, I was awakened by the clapping of hands and
cries of lamentation. Starting up, I perceived Mr. Golding at the
bedside, suspended over his Matty and me, and pouring forth his
complaints.
There was a favoured domestic of his, a little old man, who had
always kept a careful and inquisitive eye over every thing that was
in or concerned our household. This Argus, it seems, at length
suspected my nightly visits to the dead, and, lurking in a corner,
saw me open and enter the chamber where the corpse was de-
posited. As he lay in his master's apartment, he took the first
opportunity of his being awake to impart what he thought a matter
of extraordinary intelligence to him. Sir, says he, if I am not
greatly deceived, my young master is this moment in bed with his
dead lady. What is this you tell me? cried Mr. Golding. No,
John, no! what you say is impossible. All who live, love that
which is living alone ; whatever savours of death is detestable to
all men. As I am here, replied John, I am almost assured that
what I tell you is fact. Peace, peace, you old fool! said Mr.
Golding; think you that our Harry is more loving than father
Abraham, and yet Abraham desired to bury his dead out of his
sight. I know not how that may be, said trusty John ; but, if you
are able to stir, I will help you to go and see. I am sure the
thought of it melts the very heart within me.
Accordingly Mr. Golding, like old Jacob, strengthened himself,
and arose, and, pained as he was, he came with the help of his John
to the place where I lay.
Having for some time looked upon me, as I slept with his Matty
fast folded in my arms, he could no longer contain his emotions,
but he and John broke forth into tears and exclamations. O my
children, my children, my dearest children ! he cried ; why did ye
exalt me to such a pitch of blessedness ? Was it only to cast me
down into the deeper gulf of misery a gulf that has neither bank
nor bottom?
208 THE FOOL OF QUALITY.
As I arose, all ashamed to be detected in that manner, the good
man caught me in his arms. My Harry, my Harry, says he, what
shall I pay you, my son, for your superabundant love to me and
to mine ? Could my wretchedness give you bliss, I should almost
think myself blessed in being wretched, my Harry.
I now prepared to execute the late comman<l of my angel, and
to consign to earth the little that was earthly in her. But when
our domestics understood that all that was left of their loved mis-
tress was now going to be taken away from them for ever, they
broke into tears anew, and set no bounds to their lamentations.
Her desolate father was desirous of attending the funeral, but on
my knees I dissuaded him from it, as I was assured it would burst
in twain the already overstretched thread of his age and infirmities.
He then insisted on having the lid of the coffin removed, and,
bending over, he cast his old body on the corpse ; again he rose and
gazed upon it, and clapping his hands, with a shout Is this my
world? he cried; the whole of my possessions? Are you the one
that was once my little prattling Matty the playfellow of my
knees the laugher away of care who brought cheer to my heart
and warmth to my bosom? Are you the one for whom alone I
spent my nights in thought and my days in application ? Is this
all that is left, then, of my length of labours ? O, my spark of life
is quenched in thee, my Matty, my Matty ! the flowing fountain
of my existence is dried up for ever !
There is something exceedingly solemn and affecting, my cousin,
in the circumstances and apparatus of our funerals; they are op-
pressive even to minds that are no way concerned or interested in
the death of the party lamented. Though I grieved no more for
my Matty though I was as assured of her bliss as I was of my own
being ; yet, when the gloom of the procession was gathered around
me when I heard the wailing of the many families whom her
charity had sustained when I heard the bitter sobbings of the
servants, whom her sweetness had so endearingly attached to her
person when all joined to bewail themselves as lost in her loss,
my heart died, as it were, within me, and I should have been
suffocated on the spot had I not given -instant way to the swell of
my sorrows.
The tempest of the soul, madam, like that of the elements, can
endure but for a season. The passion of Mr. Golding, on the in-
terment of every joy and of every hope that he could look for upon
earth, within a few weeks subsided, or rather sunk into a solid but
sullen peace ; a kind of peace that seemed to say There is nothing
in this universe that can disturb me.
Harry, said he one evening, I have been thinking of the vision
that I have had. Vision, sir, said I ; has my Matty then appeared
to you ? Yes, he answered, she was the principal part of my vision
for these twenty years past. The vision that I mean, my Harry, is
the dream of a very long and laborious life. Here have I, by the
toil of fifty years' application, scraped together and accumulated as
much as in these times would set kings at contention, and be
accounted a worthy cause for spilling the blood of thousands ; and
yet what are these things to me, or of what value in themselves,
THE FOOL OF QUALITY. 209
more than the stones and rubbish that make our pavement before
the door ? I have been hungering and thirsting after the goods of
this world ; I have acquired all that it could give me ; and now my
soul, like a sick stomach, disgorges the whole. I then took one of
his hands, and pressing it tenderly between mine O my father !
I cried ; my dear, dear father ! O that 1 might be made sons and
daughters, and every sort of kindred to you ! All that I am and
have should gladly be spent in bringing any kind of comfort to you,
my father.
In about a fortnight after, as I entered his apartment to bid him
good-morrow, I observed that his countenance had much altered
from what it was the evening before that he looked deeply de-
jected and seemed to breathe with difficulty.
Are not you well, sir? No, says he, my spirits are greatly
oppressed. I find that I must leave you shortly ; I believe that I
must go suddenly ; but where to ? That is the question the very
terrible question the only question of any importance in heaven
or on earth. Sure, sir, said I, that can be no question to you, whose
whole life has been a continual course of righteousness, of daily
worship to God, and good-will to all men. If you have any sins to
account for, they must be covered tenfold by the multitude of your
charities.
Talk not, Harry, said he, of the filthy rags of my own righteous-
ness. I am far from the confidence of the boastful Pharisee ; alas !
I have not even that of the poor and humble publican, for I dare
not look up to say, " Lord, be merciful to me, a sinner ! " wherefore,
then, do you speak of having finished my course toward God and
toward man ? It is but lately, very lately, that I set out upon it,
and I am cut short before I have got within sight of the goal.
Yes, Harry, I fear, I know, I feel, that there is no salvation for me.
You amaze me, sir, said I : you terrify me to death ! If there is
not salvation for such as you, what a depth of perdition opens for
the rest of mankind !
I would you could convince me, he cried. I want to be com-
forted ; I desire comfort, any kind of consolation : but I feel my
condemnation within myself. Moreover, I see every text of the
gospel of the words of life terribly marshalled and set in broad
array against me. What text, sir ? said I ; I am sure I know of no
texts that bring terror or condemnation to the just. Ah, Harry !
he replied, justice is of the law and the circumcision, and has
nothing to do with the new covenant or the new man. For what
says the great apostle? "Circumcision availeth nothing, neither
uncircumcision, but a new creature." And Christ himself hath
said, " Except a man be born again, he cannot see the kingdom of
God." Again the same apostle saith, "I delight in the law of God
after the inward man ;" and again, " My little children, of whom I
travail in birth again until Christ be formed in you." Now if all
these corresponding expressions of being " born again, a new
creature, a new man, an inward man, Christ formed in us," &c.,
are to be glossed and explained away, as meaning little more than
a state of moral sentiments and moral behaviour, there can be
nothing of real import in the gospel of Christ.
p
210 TEE FOOL OF QUALITY.
Again, hear what the Kedeemer gaith, " Except ye be converted
and become as little children, ye shall not enter into the kingdom
of heaven." Again, " If any man will come after me, let him deny
himself and take up his cross and follow me." Again, " Whosoever
he be of you that forsaketh not all that he hath, he cannot be my
disciple."
If these things, I cried, are to be taken according to the apparent
sense and import of the letter, neither the teachers of the gospel,
nor those who are taught, can be saved.
Therefore, replied he, it is said, that " Many be called, but few
chosen." And again, " Enter ye in at the strait gate ; for wide is
the gate, and broad is the way, that leadeth to destruction, and
many there be which go in thereat ; because strait is the gate, and
narrow is the way, which leadeth unto life, and few there be that
find it." O my Harry, my Harry ! our lives have been employed
in seeking and "loving the world, and the things of the world,"
therefore " the love of the Father could not be in us." that I
had never been born ! O thou God ! whose tribunal at this hour is
set up so tremendously against me, at length I feel the propriety
of thy precepts, in rejecting the world and all that is therein ; for
what can they yield save a little food and raiment to bodily cor-
ruption, or incitements to that pride which cast Lucifer into a gulf,
that now opens before me without a bottom ?
As I trembled and had nothing to answer, I proposed to bring
some of our clergy to him. No, Harry ! no, says he, I will have
none of their worldly comforts; I will not cast my soul upon
bladdered expectations. Can they persuade me that I am one of
the few that are chosen? can they tell me wherein I have striven
to enter at the strait gate, wherein many shall seek to enter, but
shall not be able ?
Here he sunk into a fit of agonizing desperation, so that a cold
dew broke forth from all parts of his body, and fell, drop after drop,
down his ghastly and fearful countenance. Never, madam, never did
I feel such a kind of anguishing horror as I then felt ; I was af-
frighted and all frozen to my inmost soul. Haste, my dear sir, ex-
claimed Lady Maitland; make haste through this part of your
narration, I beseech you ! I also feel for myself; I am terrified to
the last degree.
At length, continued Mr. Clinton, I recollected myself a little.
My master, I cried ; my father, my dearest father, since you will
not take comfort in your own righteousness, take comfort in that of
Him who was made righteousness for you. Do you not now reject
the world ? do you not now deny yourself ? I do, I do, he said ;
I detest the one and the other. And do you not feel that you are
wholly a compound of sin and death ? Ay, he cried ; there is the
weight, there is the mountain under which I sink for ever. Come
then to Christ, my father, heavy laden as you are, and he will
questionless embrace you, and be rest to you, my father ! I would
come, Harry, he cried ; but I dare not, I am not able. Strive, my
father; do but turn to Him, and he will more than meet you.
Cry out with sinking Peter, " Save, Lord, or I perish ! " and he
will catch you with the hand of his ever ready salvation.
THE FOOL OF QUALITY. 211
Here his countenance began to settle into an earnest composure,
and his eyes Avere turned and fixed upward ; while his old and en-
feebled body continued to labour under the symptoms of near disso-
lution. At length he started, and seized my hand with a dying
pressure There is comfort, Harry ; there is comfort ! he cried, and
expired.
I was now cast once more upon a strange and friendless world.
All the interests of my heart were buried with this family ; and I
seemed to myself as without kindred or connections in the midst of
mankind. Your dear mamma, indeed, sometimes called to condole
with me, and water my losses with her tears ; and in her, and you
my cousin, young as you then were, was locked up and centred the
whole stock that I had left of endearing sensations.
As the scenes of my former happiness served daily and nightly to
render me more wretched by a sad recollection, I determined to quit
my house, and to take private lodgings. For this purpose, I sum-
moned Mr. Golding's domestics ; and, as he had made no will, I first
paid them their wages, and then gave them such pretended legacies
as brought their tears and their blessings in a shower upon me.
As soon as I had discharged all except the two favourite servants
of my master and my Matty, I desired that John, our little old man,
should be sent to me.
John, said I, as he entered, here is a bill for five hundred pounds
which our good old master has left you, in token of his acknowledg-
ment of your true and loving services, and to help, with what you
have saved, to soften and make easy the bed of death in your old
age. Do you mean to part with me, sir? said John, seemingly
thankless and unconcerned about the gift which I had offered him.
Indeed, John, said I, in my present state of dejection, attendance of
any kind would but be an encumbrance to me. Then, sir, you may
keep your bounty to yourself; for I shall break my heart before
five-and-twenty hours are over. Nay, John, said I, I am far from
turning you from me ; stay with me as my friend and welcome, but
not as my servant; and I shall see the comfort of old times in always
seeing you about me. Thank you, thank you, sir, he cried. I will
not disturb you with my tears ; but I should die unblessed if I died
out of your presence ! So saying, he rushed from me in a fit of
restrained passion.
I then sent for my wife's maid, whom I formerly mentioned. She
had just heard of my discharging the other servants, and entered
with a sad and alarmed countenance. Come near, Susan, I am going
to part with you, said I ; come to me, and give me a farewell kiss.
She approached with downcast looks, when, taking her in my arms, I
pressed and kissed her repeatedly, and scarce withheld my tears.
Oh, my girl, my Matty's precious girl ! I cried, I am not forgetful
of your love, your honour, and your disinterestedness toward us.
Here, my Susy, your darling mistress presents you with this bill of
a thousand pounds, and, if you choose, I will give you cash for it
within a quarter of an hour. This, however, does not discharge me
from my regard and attention to you. You are of a helpless sex, my
Susy, that is subject to many impositions and calamities ; wherefore,
when this sum shall fail you, come to me again come to me as to your
P2
212 TEE FOOL OF QUALITY.
friend, as to your debtor, Susy, and I will repeat my remembrance,
and repeat again, as you may happen to have occasion ; for while I
have sixpence left the favourite friend of my Matty shall not want
her proportion.
Here the grateful and amazed creature threw herself on the
floor. She cried aloud, while the family hearol and echoed to her
lamentations. She clasped my knees, she kissed my feet again and
again. I could not disengage myself, I could not force her from
me. Oh, my master ! she cried, my all that is left to me of my
adored, my angel mistress ! must I then be torn from you ? must
you live without the service of the hands and heart of your Susy ?
But I understand your regard and care for me, my master. It is
a cruel and naughty world, and must be complied with.
Here I compelled her to rise, and kissing her again, I turned
hastily to the chamber where my Matty's corpse had been laid ;
and bolting the door, and casting myself on the bed, I broke into
tears, and at length wept myself to sleep.
While I was preparing to leave the once-loved mansion, I found
in Mr. Gplding's cabinet a parchment that much surprised me. On
my marriage, he had proposed to make a settlement of his fortune
upon me, which, however, I obstinately refused to accept ; where-
upon, without my privity, he got this deed perfected, which con-
tained an absolute conveyance to me of all his worldly effects and
possessions ; and this again renewed in me the tender and en-
dearing remembrance of each of those kindnesses and benefits
which he had formerly conferred upon me.
I now found myself in possession of near a million of money,
which, however, in my disposition of mind at the time, appeared no
worthier than so much lumber in a waste room. And I know not
how it was, that, through the subsequent course of my life, although
I was by no means of an economical turn, though I never sued for
a debt, nor gave a denial to the wants of those who asked, nor
turned away from him that desired to borrow of me, yet uncoveted
wealth came pouring in upon me.
It was not without some sighs and a plentiful shower that I
departed from the seat of all my past enjoyments. I took lodgings
within a few doors of your father ; and my little household con-
sisted of my favourite Irishman, my little old man, two footmen,
and an elderly woman who used daily to dress a plain dish of meat
for us.
It was then, my fairest cousin, that your opening graces and
early attractions drew me daily to your house; my heart was
soothed and my griefs cheered by the sweetness of your prattle ;
and I was melted down and minted anew, as it were, by the
unaffected warmth and innocence of your caresses.
As I had no faith in dreams, not even in that of my Matty, I
thought it impossible that I should ever marry again. I therefore
resolved, in my own mind, to make you my heir, and to endow you
in marriage with the best part of my fortune. But you are a little
pale, madam ; you look dejected and fatigued. If you please, I will
suspend my narration for the present, and in the morning, if you
choose it, as early as you will, I shall renew and proceed in my
THE FOOL OF QUALITY. 213
insignificant history. Here he pressed her hand to his lips. She
withdrew with a tearful eye and a heaving heart; and the next
day he resumed his narration, as followeth.
CHAPTER XV.
THOUGH you, my cousin, at that time were a great consolation
to me, and a sweet lightener of my afflictions, yet the griefs of heart
which I had suffered were not without their effect. At length
they fell on my constitution, and affected my nerves or spirits ; I
think our doctors pretty much confound the one with the other.
Accordingly, I was advised to travel for change of air and exercise,
and I was preparing for my journey, when there happened in my
family the most extraordinary instance of an ever-watchful pro-
vidence that occurs to my memory.
My little old man John began to decline apace, and at length
took to his bed, and, having a tender friendship for him, I went to
sit beside him, and to comfort him the best I could. John, said T,
are you afraid to die ? No, sir, not at all, not in the least ; I long
to be dissolved, and to be with our loving Lord. Indeed, John, said
I ; I am inclined to think you have been a very good liver. A dog,
sir a mere dog, desperately wicked, the vilest of sinners ! I am
a murderer too, my master ; there's blood upon my head. Blood !
said I, and started. Yes, sir, replied John; but then the blood
that was shed for me is stronger and more precious than the blood
that was shed by me. Blood, however, John, is a very terrible
thing; are you not afraid to appear before the judgment-seat of
Christ? By no means, my dear master; I have long since laid the
burden of my sins before him, for I had nothing else to bring to
him, nothing else to offer him ; and he has accepted them and me,
and my conscience is at rest in him. Then, John, there may yet
be room for hope. There is assurance, my master, for I have laid
hold upon the rock, and cannot be shaken.
But how do you intend to dispose of your worldly substance ?
All that I have, sir, I got with you and my old master ; and where I
found it, even there I resolve to leave it. Indeed, John, I will not
finger a penny of your money. How much may it amount to ?
Eight hundred and thirty-seven pounds, sir, or thereabout. And
have you no relations of your own ? Not one living that I know
of. Then think of some one else, for no part of it shall lie on my
conscience, I assure you.
I have read, somewhere or other, sir, of a great king who was
advised of God, in a dream, to take the very first man whom he
should meet the next morning, to be his partner in the government.
Now, if it pleases you, my master, I will follow the like counsel ;
and, whosoever shall be the first found before our door, let that
person be the owner and inheritor of my substance. It shall be
even as you say ; I will go and see whom God shall be pleased to
send to us.
Accordingly I went and opened our door, when a woman, who
214 THE FOOL OF QUALITY.
had nearly passed, turned about at the noise, and perceiving me
came up and said A little charity, sir, for the sake of him who
had not where to lay his head.
I was strongly affected by the manner in which she addressed me,
and, eyeing her attentively, I observed that she was clean though
meanly apparelled ; wherefore, to make a further trial whether our
adventure was likely to prove prosperous or not, I slipped a guinea
into her hand, and desired her to go about her business. Accord-
ingly, she curtsied and went from me a few steps, when, looking
into her hand, she turned suddenly back Sir, sir, said she ; here
had like to have been a sad mistake ; you meant to give me a
shilling, and you have given me a whole guinea. It was, says I,
a very great mistake, indeed ; but be pleased to come in, and we
will try to rectify our errors.
Here I took her into the chamber where John lay, and, having
constrained her to sit down, I put my hand in my pocket. Here,
good woman, said I ; here are ten guineas for you, to make you
some amends for the mistake I was guilty of in giving you but one.
The poor creature could scarcely credit her senses, but raising her
eyes in ecstasy, and dropping from the chair upon her knees, she
was proceeding to bless me ; but I peremptorily insisted on her
re-taking her seat. Mistress, said I, be pleased to stay your
prayers for the present ; what I want from you is the story of
your life : tell me who and what you are, without suppressing any
circumstance, or concealing the faults of which you have been
guilty, and I will make you the mistress of twenty guineas, that
shall be added to what you have already received.
Sir, said she, you frighten me ; my story is a very unhappy and
a very foolish story, and cannot be of the smallest consequence to
you. Sure, you are too much of the gentleman to desire to ensnare
me ; and, indeed, I know not of any thing whereby I may be
ensnared. Wherefore, bountiful sir, unto you as unto heaven I will
open my whole soul, without seeking to know why you look into
the concerns of such a worm as I am.
I am the daughter of a farmer in Essex, my maiden name was
Eleanor Darner. I was married, early in life, to a man who kept a
chandler's shop, in a little lane that led to Tower Hill ; his name was
Barnaby Tirrel. Barnaby Tirrel ! exclaimed John; are you very sure
that his name was Barnaby Tirrel ? Peace, John, I cried ; what-
ever you may know of this man, or of any other matter, I com-
mand you not to interrupt the woman till she has finished her
story. She then continued.
I had neither brother nor sister, sir, except one brother a twin-
brother, and we loved one another as though there was nobody else
in the world to be loved.
About three years before my marriage, my brother Tommy, then
a sweet pretty lad, took to a seafaring life, and went from me, I
know not where, upon a voyage that I was told was a very great
way off; and so I cried, day and night, as many tears after him as
would have served me to swim in.
My husband was very fond of me, and when he used to see me
cry while he spoke of my Tommy, he would kiss me and try to
THE FOOL OF QUALITY. 215
comfort me, and say, that he wished for nothing more than his
return to old England, that he might welcome him and love him as
much as I did.
One night, on the ninth month of my marriage, as I sat moping
and alone, my husband being abroad upon some business, I heard a
knocking at the door, which was opened by our little servant-girl.
And then, before you could say this, in leaped my brother, and
catched me fast in his dear arms.
I gave a great shout for joy, you may be sure ; and pushing my
Tommy from roe, and pulling him to me again and again, we
embraced, and cried, and kissed, and embraced and kissed again, as
though we never could be tired.
In the mean while, the door being open, my cruel Barnaby en-
tered, unperceived by either of us ; and seeing a strange man so
fond and familiar with me, he opened a long clasped knife which
he had in his pocket, and rushing up, he gave my darling brother
three stabs in the body before he could speak a word or turn about
to defend himself. Then, casting down the knife, in a minute he
was out of the house, and I never saw him more.
For a time I stood like a stone, and then, giving a great shriek,
I fainted and fell on my brother as he lay weltering in his blood.
Our little Mary, in the while, being frighted almost to death,
ran about like a wild thing, and alarmed the street. Our neigh-
bours crowded in, and sent for the next surgeon. My brother's
wounds were probed and dressed, and he was laid in our spare
bed.
Meantime, being forward with child, I fell into strong and un-
timely labour, and after very grievous travail was delivered of a
boy, who was christened and called James, after my dear and lately
deceased father.
No pains of my own, however, kept me from inquiring after that
dear and lamented brother who had been killed, as I supposed, for
his love to me. But his youth and natural strength carried him
through all dangers. In three months he was up and about, as
well as ever ; and in less than three more he set out on another
voyage, from whence he never, never, O never returned !
Before he went abroad, my dear and sweet fellow had left me a
note of hand for the receipt of his wages. But in five years after I
heard that he was cast away, or killed by the Barbary people : and
though I went and went again in the middle of my wants, and in
the middle of my sorrows, to ask and to petition for his pay from
the Admiralty, I never could get an answer of any profit or any
comfort.
My little Jemmy, however, grew, and throve, and prated apace,
and was my only prop under all my afflictions. My husband, in-
deed, had left me in pretty circumstances ; and, had he but stayed
with me, we should have prospered above our fellows. But what
can a woman do, single, weak, and unprotected? I was imposed
upon by some ; by others I was refused payment for the goods that
I had given ; and at length I was reduced to poverty, and obliged
to shut up shop.
Meantime I had spared no cost on the bringing up of my Jemmy.
216 THE FOOL OF QUALITY.
I had given him school learning:, cond he now was grown a very
towardly and clever boy ; and having taken to messages, my sweet
fellow every night used to bring to me whatever he had earned in
the daytime.
In the loss of my husband and brother, in the loss of my Barnaby,
and in the loss of my Tommy, to be sure I had grief upon grief ;
so that my health went from me, and next my strength went from
me, and I was not able to work at the washing business as before.
But this didn't signify much while my child had his health ; for he
had now got a porter's place in the custom-house, and, young as he
was, he willingly carried heavy burdens to have the pleasure of
bringing home his hard earnings to his mammy. But about six
weeks ago, may it please your honour, my dear boy fell ill of a
quartan ague, as they call it, under which he and his mother's
heart still continue to labour.
As soon as she had ended her short narrative Well, John, said
I, methinks this business will do ; in my opinion you have got a
very worthy inheritor of your fortune ; what say you to it, John ?
First, sir, let me ask her a question or two, if you please.
Honest woman, draw your chair a little nearer to me, I pray you.
And now, tell me the truth. Did you ever love your husband ?
Yes, dearly, indeed very dearly did I love him ; for he had loved
me very dearly till that miserable night, But when, as I thought,
he had killed my brother, I hated him as much as I had ever loved
him before. But then again, when my Tommy had recovered of
his wounds, I sent far and near to inquire after him and find him
out ; and when I could learn no tidings of him, I put it into all the
printed papers that Thomas Darner was well recovered, and that
Barnabas Tirrel, who had wounded him, might return without
danger to his wife and infant.
And he is returned ! shouted John he is returned, my Nelly !
Your barbarous and bloody husband, who stabbed your brother,
and left you and your infant to famish, he is returned to you, my
Nelly ; and, in his death, he shall make you amends for all the
sufferings which he brought upon you during his lifetime ! But,
my master, my dearest master, send immediately for my child, my
Jemmy, I beseech you, that, bad as I am myself, I may give him
a father's blessing before I die.
I was surprised and affected, madam, beyond expression, by inci-
dents that were at once so wonderful and so tender ; and I directly
sent servants and a sedan chair for James, with orders to have him
carefully and warmly wrapped up ; for what his mother told me
of him had already given me a very strong prejudice in his favour.
Meanwhile, Mrs. Tirrel had sunk on her knees by her husband's
bedside, and was plentifully pouring forth her tears upon him ;
partly for joy of having found him, and partly for grief of having
found him in that condition.
O, my Nelly, my Nelly ! cried Barnabas ; had I known who the
person was whose blood I drew that terrible night,! would sooner have
thrust my knife into my own heart, than into any part of the body
of that dear brother of yours. But I was old and ugly, you know ;
and you were young and handsome ; and jealousy is a mad devil
THE FOOL OF QUALITY. 217
that rages in the breast like hell-fire ; it never knew how to spare,
but tears and consumes every thing that comes within its reach.
At length James was brought to us ; and as we were in his father's
apartments, a chamber in no way adorned, James entered without
any respect to persons. lie was a tall and comely youth, but very
pale and lean ; and as it was one of his well days, he walked in
without help. He had barely been told that his mother sent for
him in a hurry; so that he entered with a visible alarm in his
countenance.
What is the matter, my dear mother ? says he. Alas ! I am little
able to help you at present. I hope nothing has happened that is
suddenly distressful. Nothing amiss, my child, more than that your
dear father, for whom I have sought and been sighing this many a
year your father lies dangerously ill in this very bed, my Jemmy.
Am I then so blessed, cried the boy, as to see and embrace a
father ? O my child ! exclaimed the old man, and eagerly stretched
his arms towards him, come to my bosom, thou only offspring of my
bowels ! I may now say, with blessed Jacob, Let me die, let me
die, since I have seen thy face, and thou art alive, my son !
I would at any time give a thousand pounds, my cousin, for a
tenth of the enjoyment that I then had, in the feelings which God
poured into the hearts of this little family, on their so very un-
expected and marvellous a meeting. It appeared to me, however,
that young James even exceeded his parents in love; and this
gave me such a cordial attachment to him, that from that hour
to this we have never been sundered. He never failed nor for-
sook me; and at this very day he is my respected friend, and
the superintendent of my family.
John, otherwise Barnabas, continued to linger for about a fort-
night longer, and then departed quite happy, and without a groan.
During the same space, also, James W 7 as daily attended by my
own physician, and was nearly re-established in his health.
Being then intent on my departure, I sent for Mrs. Tirrell.
Mrs. Tirrell, says I, I should be much inclined to take your James
along with me, if I did not think you would grieve overmuch in
his absence. No, no, sir! said she; I would to heaven I were
myself a young man for your sake. I desire no better either of
him or for him, than that he should live and die faithfully and
lovingly in your service.
When Mr. Clinton came to this part of his story, a messenger
entered in fearful haste, and delivered a letter to Lady Maitland.
As soon as she had run it over My dearest sir, she cried, I must
leave you this instant. I lately made you an offer of a hundred
thousand pounds ; and now I know not that I have so many
shillings upon earth. I am here informed that the trustee of all
my affairs has absconded, and made his escape to France ; but I
must hurry to town, and inquire after this business. So saying,
she curtsied and suddenly withdrew, without giving her cousin
time to make a tender of his services.
The next morning Mr. Ch'nton ordered his chariot to the door,
and hastened to attend her ladyship at her house in London, but
there he was told that she had set out for Dover about an hour
218 TEE FOOL OF QUALITY.
before ; and he returned much dejected and grieved on her
account.
In about three weeks after, Mr. Clement with his young pupil
came home, quite lightened of the money they had ^ken abroad.
Mr. Fenton, for so we shall call him again, gave Clement a friendly
embrace, and took Harry to his caresses, as though he had re-
turned from a long and dangerous voyage.
Well, Clement, said Mr. Fenton, what account have you to give
us of your expedition? An account, sir, that would be extremely
displeasing to any man living except yourself: in short, our young
gentleman here, has plunged you above a thousand pounds in debt,
over the large sums that we carried with us. I hope the objects
were worthy, said Mr. Fenton. Wonderfully worthy, indeed, sir ;
I never saw such tender and affecting scenes. Then I shall be
overpaid and enriched by the narration.
Here, Harry inquired impatiently for Mrs. Clement and his friend
Ned ; and being told that they were on a visit to the Widow
Neighbourly, he took a hasty leave for the present, and away
he flew to embrace them.
As soon as he was gone Sir, said Mr. Clement, I cannot think
that there is in the world such another boy as yours. I will leave
to himself the detail of our adventures hi the several prisons ; they
had such an effect on his heart, that they cannot but have made a
deep impression on his memory ; so I shall only tell you of what
happened in our way to London.
As we were chatting and walking leisurely along the road, a poor
man before us happened to drop in a fit of the falling-sickness.
When Harry saw the writhings and convulsions in which he lay, he
turned pale, and looked vastly frightened, and seizing me under the
arm, he cried Come come away ! and hurried me off as fast as he
could. But we had not gone far till his pace began to abate, and
stopping, and hesitating Let us turn, let us turn, Mr. Clement, he
cried ; let us go back again and help the poor man ! We then
returned hastily, and, raising his head, we kept him from bruising
it against the ground. I then forced open his clenched hands, and
having chafed the palms awhile, he began to recover, and soon came
to himself. Mean while Harry's fright was not yet quite over. He
seemed willing to get away from the object of his terror, and
putting his hand in his pocket, and giving him all the silver he had,
he wished him better health, and away he went.
We had not gone above half a mile further when I saw a little
girl, in a field on the right hand, endeavouring to drive a cow
through a small gate into the road, in order to be milked, as I
suppose, by her mother ; but the cow kicked up her heels, and
proved wanton and refractory, and ran hither and thither, and
would not be guided. The poor child then set up a cry of as bitter
distress as if all that was valuable in the world was going to ruin.
Harry gave a ready ear to the sound of lamentation, and, seeing the
plight that the poor thing was in, he suddenly crossed the road,
above ankle deep in dirt, and leaping the ditch, he proved nimbler
than the cow, and driving her through the pass, he turned her into
the way that the child would have her go.
TEE FOOL OF QUALITY. 219
That morning, indeed, was to Harry a morning of petty adven-
tures. By the time that we approached the suburbs, we had nearly
overtaken a grown girl who carried a basket of eggs on her head.
A great lubberly boy just then passed us by at a smart pace, and
tripping up to the girl, gave the basket a tip with his hand, and
dashed all the eggs into mash against a stony part of the road,
and, again taking to his heels, rim on as before. Immediately
Harry's indignation was kindled, and setting out at top speed,
he soon overtook him, and gave him several smart strokes with
his little cane across the shoulders. The fellow then turned upon
Harry, and gave him a furious blow with his fist over the head,
while I hastened to his relief, as I perceived that the other was
quite an overmatch for him. But before I arrived our hero had
put a quick end to the combat ; for, springing from the ground, he
darted his head full into the nose and moutli of his adversary, who
instantly roared out, and, seeing his own blood come pouring down,
he once more took to flight, while Harry continued to press upon
him, and belaboured him at pleasure, till he judged that he had
beaten him to the full value of the eggs.
Meanwhile the poor girl, wholly unmindful of what passed,
remained wailing and wringing her hands over the wreck of her
merchandise. The voice of a siren could not so powerfuly have
attracted and recalled Harry from the length he had gone ; he
returned with speed to her, and I followed. My poor girl, says he,
where were you going with those eggs ? To market, master, says
she. And what did you expect to get for them? About five
shillings, sir ; and I had promised my daddy and mammy to lay it
out in shoes and stockings for my little brothers and sisters ; and so
I must now bear all the blame of the poor things going barefoot.
Here she again set up her wailings, and her tears poured down
afresh.
Harry then desired me to lend him ten shillings, and turning to
the mourner Hold out your two hands, my poor girl, he cried ; then
putting five shillings into each hand, Here is the payment for your
eggs, said he ; and here are five shillings more, though I fear it is
too little to pay you for all the tears they cost you.
Never did I see so sudden, so great a change in any countenance.
Surprise, gratitude, ecstasy flashed from her eyes, and gave a joyous
flush to the muscling of her aspect. She hurried her money into
her bosom, and dropping on her knees in the dirt, and seizing hold
of Harry's hand, she squeezed and kissed it repeatedly, without
being able to utter a word ; while Harry's eyes began to fill, and,
endeavouring to disengage himself, he made oif as fast as he could
from such thanks as he thought he had no way deserved.
This, sir, was the last of our adventures going to London. But
had you seen us, on our return, about two hours ago, you would
have wondered at the miry plight into which we were put, by
helping passengers up with their bundles that had tumbled into the
dirt, or by assisting to raise cattle that had fallen under their
carriages ; for Master Harry would compel me to be as busy and
active in matters of charity as himself.
However, sir, I am to tell you that Harry, with all his excellences
220 THE FOOL OF QUALITY.
of person, heart, and understanding, will be accounted a mere idiot
among people of distinction, if he is not permitted to enter into some
of the fashionable foibles and fashionable vices of the age.
We were taking a walk in the Mall, when we were met by the
Earl of Mansfield, who expressed great joy at seeing his old
acquaintance, as he called him : and he pressed us so earnestly to
dinner, that we could not, in manners, refuse him.
There was a vast concourse of company, especially of the little
quality of both sexes, who came to pay their respects to young
Lord Bottom and his sister the Lady Louisa.
Harry was received and saluted by Lady Mansfield and the
young lord, without any appearance of the old animosity. Some
time after dinner a large packet of letters was brought in to the
earl, and, making his excuse to Harry alone, he rose from the
table and retired to his closet.
Lord Bottom and his sister then led the young males and females
to an adjoining apartment, where several card-tables were laid ; and
I began to tremble for the credit of my pupil on the occasion, as I
knew him to be a novice in such matters.
In the mean time, the remaining ladies and gentlemen divided
into two or three parties at ombre ; and I sauntered about the room,
admiring the prints of the Ariadne and the Aurora, that were
taken from Guido, as also some capital paintings that the earl had
brought from Italy.
I had spent above an hour in this pleasing amusement, and had
nearly made the tour of the whole dining-room, when, as I stood at
a little distance behind my lady's chair, seeming inattentive to any
thing that passed, Lord Bottom entered on tiptoe, and tripping up
to his mother, and tittering and whispering in her ear What do
you think, mamma? said he ; sure Master Fenton is a fool, a down-
right fool, upon my honour ! He does not know a single card in
the whole pack : he does not know the difference between the ace
of hearts and the nine of clubs. I do not think either that he
knows any thing of the difference or value of coin ; for, as we passed
through the hall to-day, a beggar asked for a halfpenny, and I saw
him slip a shilling into his hand. Indeed, mamma, he is the
greatest fool that ever I knew ; and yet, poor fellow, he does not
seem to know any thing of the matter himself.
During this oration of Lord Bottom on the virtues of his new
friend, I felt my whole body glow and tingle with concern ; and
soon after Harry entered with the rest of the small quality.
Master Fenton, cries my lady, I beg to speak with you. Don't you
know the cards, my dear ? No, indeed, madam. Can't you play at
dice? No, madam. Can you play at draughts, polish, or chess?
Not at all, madam. Why then, my dear, I must tell you that all
your father's fortune will never introduce you among people of any
breeding or of any fashion. Can you play at no kind of game,
Master Harry ? A little at fox and geese, madam. And pray, my
dear, said my lady smiling, which of the parties do you espouse ?
The part of the geese, madam. I thought as much, pertly cried
out my Lord Bottom ; whereupon a loud laugh was echoed through
the room.
THE FOOL OF QUALITY. 221
Here my lady chid the company, and calling Harry to her again,
for he had gone something aloof Tell me, I pray you, said she, why
you espouse the part of the geese. Because, madam, I always wish
that simplicity should get the better of fraud and cunning.
The countess here looked astonished ; and having gazed a while
at him, and caught and kissed him eagerly You are a noble fellow,
she cried, and all must be fools or mad that ever shall take you for
the one or the other.
The elder gentry here laid their cards aside, and desired the
young ones to set about some play. Lady Louisa proposed draw-
gloves, or questions and commands, and to it they went.
Among the females was one Miss Uppish, sole heiress to a vast
fortune. Though her person was deformed, her face was the picture
of confident disdain ; and scarce any one could speak to her, or
look at her, without being told of the contempt she had for them,
by the side glance of her eye, the writhing of her neck, and tossing
up of her head.
In the course of the play, our Harry was commanded to put the
candle into the hand of Miss Uppish, and then to kiss the candle-
stick ; which command he obeyed literally, by giving her the
candle, and kissing the candlestick which he held in his own hand.
Hereupon, a great shout was set up in the young assembly, and
the fool, the senseless creature ; the fool, the fool, the fool ! was
repeated throughout ; while Lord Bottom laughed, and danced about
in the impatience of his joy.
I was amazed that Harry's countenance seemed no way discon-
certed by all this ridicule. At length Lady Mansfield called him to
her. How, my dear, could you be guilty of such an error ? she said ;
did not you know that, when you gave the candle into the hand of
the young lady, she became the candlestick, and it was her you
should have kissed ? Harry then approached to her ladyship's ear,
and in a pretty loud whisper said I did not like the metal, madam,
that the candlestick was made of. Again Lady Mansfield looked
surprised, and said You are a sly rogue, a very sly rogue, upon
my honour ; and have sense enough to dupe the wisest of us all.
Jemmy Bottom, cried my lady aloud, come here ! I can't but
tell you, Jemmy, that you have behaved yourself extremely ill to
your young friend here, who might have improved you by his
example, as much as he has honoured you by his visit. I must
further tell you, Jemmy Bottom, that whenever you pique yourself
on degrading Mr. Fenton, you only pride in your own abasement,
and glory in your shame. Hereupon I got up, and, leaving our
compliments for the earl, I carried off my young charge, for fear
of our falling into any further disgrace.
While Harry is abroad, said Mr. Fenton, be pleased to give me a
general sketch of the manner in which you disposed of your money.
In the first place, sir, answered Clement, you will find by this
list, that, for little more than the five hundred pounds allotted,
we released ninety five prisoners, whose debts amounted from forty
shillings to about twelve pounds per man. These, in the general,
had been journeymen tailors or weavers, or professors of other
inferior crafts ; and, as they wanted means or encouragement for
222 TEE FOOL OF QUALITY.
exercising their respective occupations in jail, they subsisted on
the pence which they got by begging at the grates, or on their
dividends of occasional sums which were sent for their relief by
charitable individuals. Nearly all of them were thin in flesh, and
extremely shabby in clothing ; and yet they could hardly be said
to excite compassion, as they appeared so cheerful and unfeeling
of their own wretchedness. Neither was there one of them, that
I could learn a single circumstance of, whose story was worth
reciting.
Some, however, were of a quality much superior to this class.
Among others, there was a French marquis and a German prince ;
the prince had been put under arrest by his caterer, and the mar-
quis by his tailor ; so that something less than fifty pounds set
them both at liberty.
While the keeper of the Fleet Prison was making out a list
for us of the principal debtors, Harry and I took a turn about the
court, and observed two fellows in liveries bearing several smoking
covers up the stone stairs to a front dining-room. This surprised
me, and gave me the curiosity to inquire what prisoners it could
be who lived in so expensive and superb a manner. Sir, said the
under-keeper, there are few men now at liberty near so wealthy as
this gentleman, who has done us the honour to set up his staff of
rest in our house. His name is Sink. He is an attorney and an old
bachelor, turned of sixty years of age. He is in for several sums,
amounting to upwards of nine thousand pounds, and he is reputed
to be worth above double that money.
During the last twenty years, he behaved himself with the
strictest probity toward all men, and with the strictest appearance
of piety toward God. In the dark, in frost and snow, and all in-
clemencies of weather he never missed attending morning service
at church. He was equally solicitous to be at evening prayer ;
and, whatever company he chanced to have with him, or how im-
portant soever the business in which he was engaged, the moment
he heard the bell ring he would huddle up his papers and break
away without ceremony. He was eager in his inquiries to know
where the sacrament was soonest to be administered, and he never
missed receiving it at least once in the week. Whenever he heard
any profaneness or obscenity in the streets, he would stop to re-
prove and expostulate with the offender. In short, he so perfectly
counterfeited or took off, as they call it, the real Christian, that
many looked to see him, like Enoch or Elijah, taken alive into
heaven.
This perpetual parade of sanctity gave him such an eclat and
immeasurable credit, that he was left trustee and executor in a
multitude of wills ; and numbers also deposited their substance in
his hands, in order to be laid out at interest on securities, and
so forth.
Three months since, about the dawning, as his butcher happened
to pass by his door, he heard it open, and turning saw a number
of porters come out heavy laden. This gave him a kind of sus-
picion. He let them all pass, and, walking softly after, he stepped
up to the hindmost, and offered him half-a-crown on condition of his
THE FOOL OF QUALITY. 223
telling him where they were carrying those parcels. That I will,
said the porter ; for the secret, if such it is, is nothing to me,
you know. In short, we are carrying them to the wharf, to be put
on board a boat that waits to take them in.
The butcher said no more, but hurried away to the baker, and,
as they both run to the office, they met the brewer by the way.
They took out their respective actions, and, taking a constable with
them, they seized on good Mr. Sink, as he was stepping into a
coach and six to make the best of his way to Dover. He would
have paid them their money and discharged their actions on the
spot ; but here the master, in whom he trusted, happened to leave
him in the lurch. As he had turned all his effects into money, and
his money into paper, he had not at hand wherewith to pay his
instant creditors. So they hurried him to jail, and before the
banks were open the matter was blown, and action after action
came pouring fast upon him.
When he found himself thus at bay, he cast aside his disguise,
and set them all at defiance. His creditors have since offered to
accept ten shillings, and some of them to accept five shillings, in
the pound ; but he swears that he will never pay them a groat ; for
he is now as liberal of his oaths and impious execrations, as he was
lately of his more impious profanation of gospel phrases. And
thus he daily revels in the sensual consumption of those wretches
whom he hath so inhumanly defrauded; while hundreds of
orphans and widows, and other miserables, perish for want of the
sustenance which one infernal appetite devours without remorse.
Nay, several of his creditors are, at this very time, famishing in this
prison, while they see him feasting so lavishly upon their spoils.
The gorge of my soul, cried Mr. Fentpn, the very gorge of my
soul rises against this demon ! Can nothing be done to bring him
to punishment? Our parliament will surely interfere in such a
calling exigence ; they will send to the several banks and take up
all the deposits that have been made in his name. Alas, sir ! said
Clement, he was already aware of such possibilities, and has entered
all his lodgments in feigned names, and to bearer upon demand.
Indeed, continued Clement, I heartily wished at the time that
the laws of the Grecians and Komans had been in force among us,
by which the debtor was given up to be set to labour, whipped, or
tortured, at the pleasure of the creditor.
God forbid ! God forbid ! exclaimed Mr. Fenton.
When we see mankind divided into the rich and the poor, the
strong and the weak, the sound and the sickly, we are apt to
imagine that health, strength, or opulence was given to those, and
infirmity, want, and weakness appointed to these, as marks of the
peculiar favour or disfavour of Providence.
God, however, knows that there is nothing permanently good or
evil in any of these things. He sees that nothing is a good but
virtue, and that nothing is a virtue save some quality of bene-
volence. On benevolence, therefore, he builds the happiness of
all his intelligent creatures ; and in this our mortal state (our
short apparatus for a long futurity), he has ordained the relative
differences of rich and poor, strong and weak, sound and sickly, &c ,
224 TEE FOOL OF QUALITY.
to exercise us in the offices of that charity and those affections,
which, reflecting and reflected, like mutual light and warmth, can
alone make our good to all eternity.
Benevolence produces and constitutes the heaven or beatitude
of God himself. He is no other than an infinite and eternal Good
Will. Benevolence must, therefore, constitute the beatitude or
heaven of all dependent beings, however infinitely diversified
through several departments and subordinations, agreeable to the
several natures and capacities of creatures.
God has appointed human power and human wealth, as a ready
and sufficient fund for human want and weakness ; to which fund,
therefore, they have as good a right to resort as any other cre-
ditors have to respective trusts or deposits ; for though poverty and
weakness are not creditors by the laws of man, they are creditors
by the eternal laws of nature and equity, and must here, or here-
after, bring their debtors to account.
Every man, when he becomes a member of this or that society,
makes a deposit of three several sorts of trusts, that of his LIFE,
that of his LIBERTY, and that of his PROPERTY.
Now as every man, in his separate or independent state, has by
nature the absolute disposal of his property, he can convey the dis-
posal thereof to society, as amply and absolutely as he was, in his
separate right, entitled thereto.
This, however, cannot be said of his life, or of his liberty. He
has no manner of right to take away his own life, neither to depart
from his own liberty : he cannot therefore convey to others a right
and authority which he hath not in himself.
The question then occurs, by what right it is that the legislative
and executive powers of community appoint some persons to death,
and others to imprisonment ? My answer is short, and follows :
It is the right, perhaps the duty, of every man, to defend his life,
liberty, and property, and to kill or bind the attempters. This
right he can, therefore, convey ; and on such conveyance it becomes
the right and duty of the trustees of society to put to death or im-
prison all who take away, or attempt the life, liberty, or property of
any of its members.
This right, however, extends to criminal matters only; and it
does not yet appear to me upon what reason, or right rule, founded
in nature or policy, the several societies of mankind have agreed to
deliver up their members to slavery, to stripes, tortures, or im-
prisonment, for matters merely civil, such as debts.
Several of the states of Greece, though accounting the rest of the
world as barbarians, and even the Koman republic, during the times
of its most boasted policy and freedom, gave up insolvent debtors
(without inquiring into the causes or occasions of such insolvency)
as slaves, or absolute property, into the hands of their creditors, to
be sold at will, or put to labour, or starved, macerated, or tortured,
in order to qive value in vengeance, which they could not give in
coin or other equivalent commodities.
The Jewi-h or Mosaic law, though allowing sufficiently, as Christ
says, for " the hardness of that people's hearts," yet gave perfect
enlargement to all Jews who were bondmen, and perfect remission
THE FOOL OF QUALITY. 225
to all Jews who were personal debtors, on every seventh or sab-
batical year, and on every seventh or sabbatical year, or jubilee, all
prisons were thrown open ; all slaves, though foreigners or aliens,
set at liberty, and even the lands were enfranchised, however
mortgaged, or labouring under debt and execution ; that all things,
animate or inanimate, might have an earnest of that immunity and
perfect freedom which God originally intended, and keeps in store
for all his creatures.
The laws of Egypt permitted no member to deprive the public
of the life, liberty, or labour of any other member, except he were
a criminal not fitting to live, or to be suffered to walk at large. In
all cases of debtor and creditor, they equitably appointed value
for value, as far as the substance of the debtor could reach ; and,
in case of insufficiency, the insolvent party was obliged to leave
in pledge the mummies, or preserved bodies, of his deceased an-
cestors, till, by industry or good fortune, either he or his posterity
should be enabled to redeem them a matter of refined as well as
charitable policy ; as nothing was held more infamous among the
Egyptians than their inability to produce the mummies of their
forefathers.
The laws of Holland, by their late qualifications, seem to ac-
knowledge the iniquity, or inadequateness, of depriving a man of
the possibility of earning, merely because he has not an immediate
ability to pay. Sensible, therefore, that all men are debtors to God,
and reciprocally debtors and creditors to each other, they have
ordained that he who imprisons an insolvent debtor shall pay the
proper penalty of his malevolence or indiscretion, by maintaining
the party from whom he takes the ability of maintaining himself.
It must be admitted that, were our laws less severe with respect
to debtors, were people less afraid of the jail on failure of payment,
there would be less credit, and consequently less dealing in this so
wondrously wealthy and trading a nation. But if our credit were
less, would not our extravagance lessen also ? Should we see such
princely tables among people of the lower class ? would so much
claret, spirits, and ale intoxicate a kingdom? should we see the
value of a German prince's ransom gorgeously attiring each of our
belle-dames, if neither merchant, butcher, brewer, laceman, mercer,
milliner, nor tailor would trust ?
Many of our poor city dealers are yearly undone, with their
families, by crediting persons who are privileged not to pay, or
whose remoteness or power places them beyond the reach of the
law. For by the return of non-invent. generally made upon writs,
one would be apt to imagine that no single sub-sheriff knew of any
such thing as a man of fortune, within his respective county,
throughout the kingdom of Great Britain.
Before money became the medium of commerce, the simple
business of the world was carried on by truck, or the commutation
of one commodity for another. But when men consented to fix
certain rateable values upon money, as a ready and portable equiva-
lent for all sorts of effects, credit was consequently introduced, by
the engagements of some to pay so much money in lieu of such
commodities, or to deliver such or such commodities on the
Q
226 THE FOOL OF QUALITY.
advance of so much money; and states found it their interest to
support such public credit by enforcing the performance of such
engagements.
By the common law of England, no person except the king could
take the body of another in execution for debt ; neither was this
prerogative of the crown extended to the subject till the statute of
Marlbridge, chap. 23, in the reign of Henry III.
Many contract debts through vanity or intemperance ; or borrow
money, or take up goods, with the intention of thieves and robbers,
never to make return. When such suffer, they suffer deservedly
in expiation of their guilt. But there are unavoidable damages
by water, by tire, the crush of power, oppressive landlords, and
more oppressive lawsuits, death of cattle, failure of crop, failure of
payment in others ; with thousands of such-like casualties, whereby
men may become bankrupt, and yet continue blameless. And in all
such cases one would think that the present ruin was sufficient
calamity, without the exertion of law to make that ruin irreparable.
As all the members of a community are interested in the life,
liberty, and labours of each other, he who puts the rigour of pur
laws in execution, by detaining an insolvent brother in jail, is guilty
of a fourfold injury : first, he robs the community of the labours of
their brother; secondly, he robs his brother of all means of
retrieving his shattered fortune ; thirdly, he deprives himself of the
possibility of payment ; and lastly, he lays an unnecessary burden
on the public, who, in charity, must maintain the member whom he
in his cruelty confines.
However, since the severity of law is such, that he whose mis-
fortunes have rendered him insolvent must "make satisfaction,"
(for so the savages esteem it,) by surrendering his body to durance
tor life, it is surely incumbent on our legislators and governors to
make the condition of the unhappy sufferers as little grievous as
may be.
But this most Christian duty, this most humane of all cares, is yet
to come. "When a debtor is delivered up into the fangs of his jailer,
he is consigned to absolute and arbitrary slavery ; and woe be to the
wretch whose poverty may not have left him a sop for Cerberus.
How more than miserable must be the state of those unhappy men,
who are shut in from all possible redress or appeal against the
despotic treatment of their savage keepers, whose hearts are
habitually hardened to all sense of remorse, and whose ears are
rendered callous by incessant groans !
We are credibly informed that it is usual with such keepers to
amass considerable fortunes from the wrecks of the wretched : to
squeeze them by exorbitant charges and illicit demands, as grapes
are squeezed in a vine-press while one drop remains; and then
to huddle them together into naked walls and windowless rooms ;
having got all they can, and nothing further to regard, save the
return of their lifeless bodies to their creditors.
How many of these keepers exact from their distressed prisoners
seven and eight shillings per week, for rooms that would not rent
at a third of that sum in any other part of this city ! At times,
nine of those wretched prisoners are driven to kennel together in a
THE FOOL OF QUALITY. 227
hovel, fit only to stable a pair of horses, while many unoccupied
apartments are locked up from use. Even a sufficiency of the
common element of water is refused to their necessities, an advan-
tage which the felons in Newgate enjoy. Public or private bene-
factions are dissipated or disposed of at the pleasure of the keepers,
regardless of the intention or order of the donors. And the apart-
ments appointed to these miserable men are generally damp or
shattered in the flooring, and exposed, by breach or want of
windows, to the inclemency of night-air, and all the rigour of the
season.
But what avail their complaints if the legislature have not
authorized, or made it the duty, of some especial magistrates to
examine into and redress these crying abuses?
But tell me, continued Mr. Fenton, were there any prisoners of
consideration among the confined debtors ? A few, sir, of note, and
many who had been well to pass in the world. Among these,
indeed, it was that every scene and species of misery was displayed.
There you might see, as you have said, numerous families of
wretches, whose thin and tattered garments but ill defended their
shivering bodies from the inclemency of the elements, that blew
through shattered windows or came pouring from unstanched roofs.
These people fared incomparably worse than those of the vulgar
herd ; for, being ashamed to beg at the grates, they had nothing to
subsist on save their scanty portions of such charities as happened
to be sent in from time to time, and this scarcely supplied them with
a sufiiciency of water, black bread, and offal ; while the recollection
of their former affluence added sharp and bitter poignancy to the
sense of their present wants. But here comes my pupil ; he will be
more particular on scenes with which his heart was so meltingly
affected.
Harry then entered, with Mrs. Clement caressing him on the
one side, and his old dependant Ned hanging about him on the
other.
As soon as Clement and his Arabella had embraced, and all were
settled and seated Well, Harry, said Mr. Fenton, will you favour
us with some account of your expedition? Have you ever a pretty
story for me, my Harry ? Several stories, sir, said Harry, that were
sweet pretty stories when I heard them; but Mr. Clement had
better tell them, they would be sadly bungled if they came through
my hands, sir. The company will make allowances, replied Mr.
Fenton ; let us have these stories in your own way, Harry, just as
your memory may happen to serve you.
On the second day, sir, as my tutor and I were walking in the
court-yard of the Fleet Prison, whom should I spy but my old
master, Mr. Vindex, walking very sad to and again by the wall.
He was so pale and shabby, and so fallen away, that I did not
rightly know him till I looked at him very earnestly. My heart
then began to soften and warm toward the poor man ; for it told
me that something very sorrowful must have happened before he
could have been brought to that condition. So I went up to him
with a face, I believe, as melancholy as his own.
How do you do, good Mr. Vindex? said I. I should be glad to
228 THE FOOL OF QUALITY.
see you, if I did not see you look so sad. He then stared at me
for some time, and at length remembering me, he looked concerned,
and turned away to shun me ; but I took him lovingly by the hand,
and said You must not leave me, Mr. Vindex ; won't you know
your old scholar, Harry Fenton? Yes, said he, casting down his
mournful eyes, I know you now, master ; I know I used you basely,
and I know why you are come ; but reproach me and insult me as
much as you please, all is welcome now since I cannot lie lower
till I am laid in the earth.
I do not mean to insult you ; this tear will witness for me that I
do not mean to insult you, my clear Mr. Vindex ; and so I wiped my
eye. Here are twenty guineas, to put warm clothes upon you in
this cold weather. Little and low as I am myself, I will try to
do something better for you ; and so give me one Mss in token that
we are friends.
The poor dear man then opened his broad eyes in a wild stare
upon me, with a look that was made up half of joy and half of shame.
He then kneeled down, as I supposed, that I might reach to kiss
him, and taking me into his arms You are not born of woman ; you
are an angel, an angel ! he cried; and so he fell a-crying, and cried
so sadly, that I could not for my heart but keep him company.
I did all I could to pacify and make him cheerful, and getting
him up at last You must not part with me, Mr. Vindex, said I ;
we must dine and spend the day together. Here is Mr. Clement,
my tutor ; you and he too must be friends.
I then led him by the hand into a large ground room that Mr.
Close, the chief keeper, had appointed for us ; and I ordered dinner
to be hastened and brought up. As soon as we were all seated, I
began to laugh and joke, after my foolish way, in order to make
poor Mr. Vindex merry. When I found that it would not do Mr.
Vindex, said I, be so kind as to let me know what the money may
come to for which you are confined? A terrible sum, indeed, my
darling, said he ; no less than a hundred and fifty-two pounds. I
then put my hand in my pocket, and taking out two bills and a
little matter of money that made up the sum, I put it into his
hand, saying, My friend shall never lie in jail for such a trifle
as this.
Having looked for some time at the bills with amazement, he turned
to my tutor with a doubtful and shamed face Is this young gentle-
man, sir, said he, duly authorized to dispose of such vast matters as
these ? He is, says Mr. Clement ; he is the carver and disposer of
his father's fortune at pleasure ; and I am confident that his father
will think himself doubly paid, in the use that his noble son has
made of his privilege this day.
A gleam then, like that of sunshine, broke through his sad
countenance, as through the clouds of a dark day. And are you
the one, he cried are you the one, Master Harry, whom I treated
so barbarously ? You may forgive me, my little cherubim ; you
indeed may forgive me ; but I never I never shall forgive myself!
O Mr. Vindex ! said I, I would very nearly undergo the same
whipping again to do you twice the kindness, and make you love
me twice as much as you now love me.
THE FOOL OF QUALITY. 229
Dinner was now served, and, calling for wine, I filled him a
bumper in a large glass, which he drank to the health of my
glorious dada, as he called you, sir. Upon this we grew very
merry and friendly among one another; and, when dinner was
over, I begged him to tell me how he came to be put into con-
finement.
O, Master Harry! he cried, I have suffered all that I have
suffered very justly very justly, for my harsh and cruel usage of
you, Master Harry.
After the affair of the hobgoblins, as you know, the shame to
which I was put by my fright and by my scourging began to be whis-
pered, and then to be noised about the town. The boys at length
catched the rumour, and began to hoot at me ; and the more I
chastised them the more they gathered about me, and shouted
after me A rod for the fiogger ; a rod for the flogger !
No disease is so deadly, no blasting so baneful, as contemprt to a
man in the way of his profession. My boys grew disorderly, and
behaved themselves in school without respect to my person, or
regard to my government. Even my intimates shunned me, and
would cast at me a side glance of smiling scorn as they passed.
My school then melted from me like snow in a fog. Even my
boarders forsook me. I stood at a high rent; my effects were
seized by the landlord. It was in vain that I solicited payment
from the parents of my scholars. No one who was indebted to
me would give me a penny ; while all that I owed came like a
tumbling house upon me, and so I was cast into this prison, from
whence your bounty has set me free.
My poor broken-hearted wife would have accompanied me to
jail ; but, as I had not wherewithal to give her a morsel of
bread, I sent her to an old aunt, who had the humanity to take
her in.
Alas, alas! poor Mr. Vinclex, said I; had I guessed any part
of the mischiefs that our unlucky pranks have brought upon
you, I would have put both my hands into the furnace of Nebu-
chadnezzar rather than have had art or part in such a wickedness ;
for herein we acted the fable of the frogs and the boys that
wliich was play to us was death to you, Mr. Vindex.
In conscience, now we are indebted to you for every misfortune
we caused you ; and, as you are not yet paid for the half of your
sufferings, I here give you my hand and word to make up a
hundred and fifty pounds more for you ; and for this I will not
accept the smallest thanks, as I think it is no more than an act of
common honesty. And I, cried Mr. Fenton, I hold myself indebted
to you a thousand pounds, my noble Harry, for that single senti-
ment. That's well that's well, sir ! cried Harry, leaping up and
clapping his hands ; I shall now be clear in the world with all my
poor creditors !
Thus, sir, continued he, it rejoiced my heart greatly to send poor
Mr. Vindex away in such triumph ; while my tutor and I went
two or three doors off to see a mighty pretty young creature, who
was said to be confined with her ancient father. And I will tell
you their story, with two or three other stories more, on account
230 THE FOOL OF QUALITY.
of the incidents that happened while we were there, than of any
thing else that was wonderful or uncommon in them.
On tapping at the door, we were desired to walk in, and saw
a female with her back to us, weaving bone lace on a cushion,
while an elderly man, with spectacles on, read to her in Thomas a
Kempis. They both rose to salute us. Mr. Clement then stepped
up, and seeing what they were about, cried God cannot but
prosper your work, good people, since you employ your time to
his purposes, both on earth and in heaven. As an earnest of his
kindness to you, he sends you by us a considerable charity, which
you shall receive as soon as you inform us who and what you are,
and how you came here. Blessed be the messengers of my God !
cried out the father, whether they come with happy or with heavy
tidings! I say, with old Eli "It is the Lord, let him do what
seemeth him good."
father! I was quite charmed when the daughter turned to
me ; there was such a sweetness, such a heavenly harmlessness,
in her face, that I could have kissed her, and kissed her, again and
again.
As I had brought a glass and the remainder of our bottle with
me, we all got about a board that was half stool and half table,
and, after a round or two, the good man began his story.
My father's name was Samuel Stern. He had a clear estate of
nine hundred and fifty pounds a-year in Sussex ; and had by my
mother three daughters and four sons, of whom I was the second.
My father, unhappily, was a loyalist ; and when the troubles
broke out between King Charles and the parliament, he took up
all the money he could at any interest, and raised a company at his
own cost, which he headed on the part of his royal master.
After some successful skirmishes, his head was split in two by
the broadsword of a trooper at the battle of Naseby. Immediately
all our servants forsook us, each carrying away with him whatever
came to hand ; and quickly after the soldiers of the Commonwealth
came, carried off all the cattle, and left nothing of our house except
the bare walls.
In the mean time, we poor children huddled together into the
garden, and there separating, ran and crept under bushes and
hedges, as so many chickens endeavouring to gain shelter from
the kite.
As soon as the noise of the tumult was over, we rose and looked
about fearfully ; and, getting together again, we helped one another
through the garden hedge, and made as fast as we could to the
cottage of a neighbouring farmer, who had been our father's tenant.
Here we were received coldly, and fared but very hardly for that
night. On the next day, however, in order to get quit of us, as I
suppose, the man went among our relations, and prevailed on one
to take a son, and on another to take a daughter, till we were all
divided among them; and so we entered on a kind of service to our
kindred a service, as I believe, that is found on experience to be
much harder and more insulting than any service to a stranger.
1 forgot to tell you, gentlemen, that our mother deceased before
our father engaged in arms, insomuch that we became orphans in
THE FOOL OF QUALITY. 231
all respects. I fell to the share of an uncle by my mother's side.
He had a small estate of about a hundred and twenty pounds
yearly income, with one son, and a daughter whom I thought very
lovely.
My uncle appointed me overseer of his labourers, as also his
occasional clerk, for casting accounts and inditing his letters, &c. ;
but when it was intimated to him that there was a secret liking
between his daughter and me, he called me aside, and, taking up a
book of profane poems, he kissed it, and swore by the contents
thereof, that if ever I married his daughter he would not give us a
groat.
If you ever knew what love was, said he to Mr. Clement, you
must know that it breaks over stronger fences than these. In
short, we were wedded, and turned out of the house without any
thing to live upon except about the value of twenty pounds in
small matters, which had been given to my wife from time to time,
by Lady Goodly, her godmother.
We made the best of our way to London. My wife understood
needlework, and as I knew that my father-in-law was quite irre-
concilable, I joined myself to a house-painter, to whom I gave my
time for nothing, on condition of his giving me a sight into his
business.
In the third year my dear wife brought this poor creature into
the world ; but happily, she did not encumber mankind with any
more of our wretched and depending progeny.
All our care and delight was fixed on this our little daughter,
and we thought nothing of any pains or labour that might serve
to introduce her, like herself, into the world.
As soon as Charles II. had ascended the throne, our relations
were fully assured that we should be restored to our ancient rights
and possessions ; and they contributed, as it were for their own
credit, to set us forth in a suitable manner for appearing at court.
There, accordingly, we attended, from time to time, for the space of
twelve months, and got a number of woful memorials presented to
his majesty ; but his majesty was so deeply engaged in his pleasures,
or so fearful of offending the enemies of his house, that he gave no
attention to our wrongs. There may be also something in the
breasts of the great that excites them to acts of bounty rather
than acts of justice ; for these, as they apprehend, might be ac-
cepted as matter of debt and not as matter of favour.
Being tired of a fruitless suit, I returned to my former employ-
ment, and, by industry and frugality, I lived with my little family
quite happy and contented.
About ten months ago, two men came to our lodgings. The one
was in a rich livery, and, having inquired for my daughter, pre-
sented her with a note to this effect: "Lady Diana Templar
sends Diana Stern, the enclosed bill of twenty-five pounds, in order
to put her into some little way of livelihood." As my poor dear
child had no cause to suspect any fraud or evil intention in the case,
she desired the men to return her most humble thanks and duty to
her ladyship, and away they went.
As this lady was a distant relation of my wife's father, my
232 THE FOOL OF QUALITY.
daughter in a few days dressed herself in her best, and went to
return thanks to her ladyship in person, but was told that she was
gone to her seat in the country.
In the mean time she laid out her supposed bounty in furnishing
a little front shop with some millinery wares, and was already
beginning to get some custom, when one evening two bailiffs en-
tered, laid an action upon her, and, taking her up in their arms,
hurried her into a coach that drove up to the door.
My wife and I had rushed out on hearing our child shriek ; and,
seeing a coach set off with her at a great rate, we ran after as
fast as we could, shouting, and screaming, and crying Stop the
coach stop the coach ! At length a bold fellow who was passing
caught one of the horses by the bridle, and, while the coachman
lashed at him, he took out his knife and cut the reins in two. A
mob then began to gather ; whereupon a well-dressed man, who
was in the coach, leaped out and made his escape, but the coach-
man was not so lucky ; the people pulled him from the box, and
having beaten and kicked him, they dragged him through the
kennel.
Mean while we got our child out, and then the mob overturned
the coach, and, jumping upon it, broke and dashed it all to pieces.
We then thought that we had nothing further to apprehend, and,
taking our child between us, we turned back and walked homeward ;
but, alas ! we were not permitted to enter. The two bailiffs met
us, and, producing their writ, again arrested our daughter at the
suit, as they said, of Jonathan Delvil, Esq., for the sum of twenty-
five pounds, which he had lent her on such a day. So they con-
ducted her here, while my wife and I accompanied her, weeping
and sobbing all the way.
I then took these poor apartments to cover us from the weather,
and, as my wife grew suddenly sick and faint, I hastened back to
our lodgings and had our bedding brought hither.
It was now evident that the pretended gift of Lady Templar
was no other than a diabolical scheme of the villain Delvil to get
my darling within his fangs ; and I cursed my own stupidity for
not perceiving it at first ; but blessed be God, however, in all
events, that my lamb was still innocent was still unsullied.
What with grief and with fright together, my dear wife took to
her bed, from whence she never rose, but expired on the fifth day,
blessing and pressing her daughter to her bosom. My poor infant
then fell as dead beside her mother, and could not be recovered
from her fit in many hours ; and indeed it was then the wish and
the prayer of my soul, that we might all be laid and forgotten in
one grave together.
As soon as my darling was recovered, however, I again wished
to live for her sake, that I might not leave her without a com-
forter or protector in the midst of a merciless and wicked world.
In order to pay the nurse-keeper, the doctor, and apothecary, as
also to defray the funeral expenses, I left my child with the nurse-
keeper, and, going to our former lodgings, I sold all her millinery
matters at something under a third of prime cost ; and having dis-
charged the lodgings, and paid my jail debts, I prepared to lay my
THE FOOL OF QUALITY. 233
precious deposit in the womb of that earth which is one day to
render her back incorruptible to eternity.
When the corpse was carrying out at the door my child fell
once more into fits, and I was divided and quite distracted about
what I should do, whether to stay with the living, or pay my duty
to the dead. But I will no longer detain you with melancholy
matters, since all worldly griefs, with all worldly joys also, must
shortly be done away.
As soon as I understood that Lady Templar was returned to
town, I waited upon her, and giving her an abridgment of our
manifold misfortunes, I produced the note that had been written
in her name; but she coldly replied that it was not her hand,
and that she was not answerable for the frauds or villanies of
others.
Mean while, my dear girl accused herself as the cause of all our
calamities, and pined away on that account as pale as the sheet she
lay in. She was also so enfeebled by her faintish and sick fits, that
she was not able to make a third of her usual earnings ; and as I,
on my part, was also disqualified from labouring in my profession,
since I did not dare to leave my child alone and unsheltered, we
were reduced to a state of the greatest extremity.
One day word was brought me that a gentleman, a few doors
off, desired to speak with me ; and as they who are sinking catch
at any thing for their support, my heart fluttered in the hope
of some happy reverse. Accordingly I followed the messenger.
His appearance in dress and person was altogether that of the
gentleman.
He ordered all others out of the room, and requesting me to sit
beside him, in a half whispering voice he began : I am come, Mr.
Stern, from one whom you have great reason to account your
greatest enemy: I come from Mr. Delvil, at whose suit your
daughter now lies in prison. I started. Be patient, sir, he said.
He knows your distresses he knows all your wants he knows
also that he is the author of them ; yet I tell you that he feels
them as if they were his own, and that it was not his enmity, but
his love, that occasioned them.
He depends on his old uncle Dimmock for a vast fortune in ex-
pectation. He saw your daughter, and loved her; he saw her
again, and loved her to madness. He inquired her family, her
character, and found that he had nothing to expect from any
licentious proposal. He feared, however, that all must love her as
he did, and, to prevent other pirates, he made use of the stratagem
which, contrary to his intentions, has brought you here. He never
meant any thing dishonourable by your daughter. Had he carried
her clear off, you might all have been happy together at this day ;
and, if you consent, he will marry her here in the presence of a few
witnesses, who shall be sworn to secresy till his uncle's death;
and he will instantly pay you down three hundred pounds in re-
compense for your sufferings, and will settle one hundred pounds
annuity on your child for life.
I must own that, to one in my circumstances, this proposal had
something very tempting in it. But who is this Mr. Delvil ? said I.
234 THE FOOL OF QUALITY.
I know him not ; I never saw him. I am the man, sir, said he.
I would have discharged my action as I came to this place ; but
I dare not permit your daughter to get out of my custody ; for,
at the loss of my fortune at the loss of my life I am deter-
mined that no other man living shall possess her. I then promised
him that I would make a faithful narration to my child of all that
had passed, but told him, at the same time, that I would wholly
subscribe to her pleasure ; and so we parted.
As soon as I represented this matter to my Diana no ! my
papa, she cried; it is impossible it never can be; I would do
any thing suffer any thing but this, for your relief. Would you
act the marriage of the lamb and the wolf in the fable ? If such
have been the consequences of this gentleman's affection for us,
what have we not to expect from the effects of his aversion? I
would prefer any kind of death to a life with such a man. And
then, my mother, she cried, and burst into tears my dear mother
whom he has murdered! Though he were worth half the world,
and would marry me publicly in the face of the other half; it
will not be it cannot be, indeed, my papa!
Hereupon I writ Mr. Delvil almost a literal account of my daugh-
ter's answer. It is nearly five weeks since this happened, and
we have not heard any thing further of him. In this time, how-
ever, we got acquainted with a family at the next door, whose con-
verse has been a great consolation to us. There is a father and
mother, and seven small children boys and girls ; they are very
worthy people, and of noble descent ; but how they contrive to
live at all I cannot conceive, for they have no visible means of
making a penny. Had we not known them, we should have
thought ourselves the poorest of all creatures. "We must own
them more deserving of your charity than we are.
Here poor Mr. Stern ended ; and you cannot think, dada, how
my heart leapt with love toward him, on his recommending others
as more deserving than himself. So I resolved at once what to do,
and taking two fifty pound notes from my pocket-book You shall
not be under the necessity, Mr. Stern, says I, of marrying your
pretty lamb here to the ugly wolf ; so here is fifty pounds to pay
your action and fees, and other small debts.
On taking the note he looked at it very earnestly ; and when he
saw it was a true note, he opened his eyes and his mouth so wide,
and stood so stiff, without stirring hand or foot, that he put me in
mind of Lot's wife who was turned into a pillar of salt. How-
ever, I did not seem to mind him, but turning to his daughter, and
showing her the other note, Miss Diana, says I, here is fifty pounds
for you also, in order to set you up in your little shop again ; but
you shall not have it without a certain condition. What condition,
master ? said she, smiling. The condition, says I, of putting your
arms about my neck, and giving me one or two sweet kisses.
She then looked earnestly at me with eyes swimming with plea-
sure ; and starting suddenly to me, and catching me to her bosom,
she kissed my lips and my forehead, and my head, again and again ;
and then set up as lamentable and loud a cry as if her father had
lain a corpse before her.
THE FOOL OF QUALITY. 235
Mr. Stern then lifted up his eyes, and dropping on his knees
my God ! he cried, how bountiful art thou to a wretch who is
not worthy the least of all thy mercies ! Hereupon the daughter
turned, and seeing the posture of her father, she fell on her knees
before him, and throwing her arms about him, he folded her in
his also, and they wept plentifully upon each other.
How comes it that crying should be so catching? However it
be, Mr. Clement and I could not contain ; and I shall love him the
better during life for the tears that he shed on that occasion.
On hearing a smart rapping, Mr. Stern rose and opened the door,
where a footman, almost breathless, delivered him a letter. The
letter was to the purpose that Mr. Delvil was ill of a quinsey, that
he had but a few hours to live, and requested Mr. Stern to bring
his daughter to him, that, by marriage, he might give her a law-
ful title to his fortune. No, papa ! cried Diana ; living or dead,
nothing shall ever bribe me to give my hand to a man who has
had a hand in the death of my dearest mother.
Mr. Clement, however, thought it advisable that Mr. Stern
should attend the messenger, to see if Mr. Delvil was really ill, or
whether this might not be some new-contrived treachery.
This was a day of successes to poor Mr. Stern. We had pro-
mised to stay with his Diana until his return; and he had not
been long gone till some one tapped at the door. I opened it,
and saw an exceeding old and reverend man ; he was dressed all
in black, and his white head looked like snow on the feathers of
the raven. Is Tom Stern here? said he. No, sir, said I, he is
gone into town. I thought he was a prisoner. No, sir, it is not
he, but his daughter who is under confinement. Will you give a
feeble old man leave to sit with you, gentlemen? and so down he
sat. Come here to me, child, says he to Diana, are you a daugh-
ter of Tom Stern ? I am, sir, so please you. And what was your
mother's name ? Ann Koche, sir ; but, alas ! she is not living. I
was the cause of her death ; she broke her heart, good sir, on my
being put to jail. I hope, child, said the old gentleman, that you
were not imprisoned for any thing that was naughty. No, sir, no !
cried Mr. Clement, it was her honesty alone that brought and kept
her here; had she been less virtuous she might have been at
liberty, and flaunting about in her coach.
The old man then put on his spectacles, and ordering her to
draw nearer, he took a hand in each of his, and, looking intently
in her face What is your name, my dear? said he. Diana,
honoured sir. That is a pretty and chaste name, for an unchris-
tian name. Indeed, Diana, you are a sweet babe, and the prettiest
little prisoner that ever I saw. I will pay all your debts, and give
you a thousand pounds, over, if you will come along with me,
and be my prisoner, Diana. Ah, sir ! cried the girl, it is too much
to have broken the heart of one parent already ; I would not leave
my dear father for any man with all the money in all the world.
You do not leave your father, he cried, by going with me, Diana.
1 am your true father, the father of Nanny Koche, the father of
her who bore you your own grandfather, my Diana.
Here she sunk on her knees, between his knees, begging anJ
236 THE FOOL OF QUALITY.
beseeching his blessing ; while his hands and eyes were lifted in
prayer over her. He then raised her, and placing her gently on
his knee, clasped her in his aged arms ; while she threw hers
about his neck, and joining her cheek to his, sobbed aloud, and
poured her tears into his bosom. The old gentleman, however, did
not express his concern by word, or sob, or even any change of his
countenance ; and yet his tears fell fast down his reverend and de-
lightful features, upon his grandchild.
This was a very pleasing, though a very affecting sight. As soon
as the height of their passion was something abated, Miss Diana
turned her eye toward me, and said You were pleased, my
grandpapa, to promise that you would pay my debts, but that is
done already. This angel here was sent to prevent all others ;
and he further presented me with this bill of 50, to set me up in
a better shop than I kept before.
I rejoice, cried the old man, I rejoice to find that so much of
heaven is still left upon earth. But you, my Diana, are now in
a condition rather to give charity than receive it from any.
Your dear uncle Jeremy, who traded to the West Indies, lately
died of the smallpox on his passage homeward. You are the
heir of his fortunes, and the heir of my fortune ; you are the
whole and sole lady of all our possessions. But, tell me, how much
did this young gentleman advance in your favour? A hundred
pounds, sir.
He then took out a banker's note of a hundred pounds, and,
having offered it to me, I did not dare to refuse it, for fear of
offending the honour of the respectable old gentleman ; so I held it
in my hand after a doubting manner. My dear Miss Diana, says
I, I will not be put to the pain of taking this back again, but on
the condition of your telling me to whom I shall give it ? O, she
cried out instantly, to the babies, to the sweet babies at the
next door! I wish to heaven I had as much more to add to it
for their sakes.
I then inquired the name of her favourite family at the next
door, and being told that it was Ruth, I looked over my list, and
found that Mr. Ruth was in for above seven hundred pounds. This
grieved me very much, as such a sum nearly amounted to the half
of our whole stock. However, I comforted myself with the hope
that God would send some one else to make up to this poor family
what should be wanting on my part.
Mr. Stern just then returned. I beg pardon, said he, gentlemen,
for detaining you so long, but I could not avoid it. The unhappy
man is actually dying a very terrible death, indeed, in his full
strength, and almost in his full health, stifling and gasping for air,
which the swelling of the glands will not suffer to pass.
As soon as I entered, he beckoned to me, and put this paper
sealed into my hand. And again, observing that I was agitated
and deeply concerned for the state in which he laboured, he reached
out his hand to me, and grasping my right hand, put this ring
upon my finger. This paper contains, under his hand and seal, a
discharge of the action which he laid upon my daughter, as also
a conveyance to us of the cash notes enclosed, amounting to three
THE FOOL OF QUALITY. 237
hundred pounds, in consideration, as he recites, of our losses and
unjust sufferings. And so, my dear Mr. Fenton, I here return you
your 100 with all possible acknowledgments, and a sense of the
obligation that will never leave me during life.
Sir, said I, you must excuse me ; I am already paid. That gen-
tleman yonder compelled me to accept of the very sum you offer.
Mr. Stern then started, and turning, he saw his uncle ; and,
eyeing him inquisitively, at length recollected who he was. He
then stepped up, and falling on his knees before him O, sir ! he
cried, your pardon, your pardon! Tis all I presume to ask; I
dare not hope for your blessing.
Tom, said the old gentleman, I wanted to be even with you ;
I wanted to seduce your daughter, as you seduced mine. But
your daughter, Tom, though come of very rebellious parents, would
not be seduced. However, as I have taken a liking to her, she
must come along with me, whether she will or no. And as Jacob
said to Joseph concerning Ephraim and Manasseh, she shall be mine
and not thine, Tom ; and my name, and the name of my fathers
shall be named upon her, according to her inheritance. But if you
have any affection for this my child, Tom, and are unwilling to
part with her, you may follow her, and welcome.
Soon after we got up, and, having congratulated this happy
family on the blessing of their meeting and reconciliation, I stepped
to the old gentleman, and catching him about the neck, tenderly
took my leave of him, as I did also of Mr. Stern. But when I
went to take leave of the fair Diana, she drew some steps backward,
and her eyes and sweet features beginning to swell, she again run
forward, and catching me in her dear arms 0, my darling, my
darling, my darling ! she cried ; am I then going to lose you, it may
be never to see you more ! were it but once in a week, in a month,
in a year, to behold you, even that would keep me alive for all the
remainder. O my best, my most generous, my first preserver ! it
is you who might be the seducer who might make me and others
run after you barefoot. But if we must part, my little angel, do
but promise to know me in heaven, and there your poor Diana
will meet you, never to part any more.
What could I say or do, sir, in answer to the dear girl ? My
heart swelled almost to bursting while she caressed and wept over
me. At length, with words as well as my tears would give me
leave to pronounce them, I demanded the name of the place to
which she was going, and promised to pay her a visit as soon as
possibly I could. "We then parted very melancholy, notwithstand-
ing all our success ; and, going out, I wiped my eyes, and begged
Mr. Clement to order tea and coffee, with a comfortable entertain-
ment, for the family at the next door, while I should go in and
introduce myself as well as I could.
Having tapped gently at the door, it was opened by a little
ragged boy of about five years old. Mrs. Kuth sat full in my view,
and her three little daughters stood before her, while she examined
them in the Old Testament questions of who was the first man,
and the wisest man, and the strongest man, and the oldest man,
and, above all, the man after God's own heart?
238 THE FOOL OF QVALITY.
Mrs. Kuth was a fine woman, and had a great deal of humble
dignity about her. I bowed to her as I entered, and, going fami-
liarly up, I took her by the hand and kissed it. Allow me, madam,
said I, to introduce a little neighbour to you. I lodge within a
few doors, and shall think myself happy in being acquainted in
your family. Alas! my dear, says she, there are very few who
seek acquaintance with calamity. They who wish to relieve it
seek acquaintance with it, madam.
Having eyed me all over with an earnest kind of surprise You
look, my love, said she, to be very good-natured, and, I dare say,
will be very charitable when you come to have the ability. The
little ability I have, madam, shall be strained for your service. In
the mean time, pray pardon the freedom I have taken in ordering
tea and coffee into your room, with some cakes and sweetmeats
for these pretty misses. I will only trouble you, madam, with one
guest more ; it is Mr. Clement, my tutor, who, good man, has been
no stranger to poverty or distress.
Here she called Mr. Kuth from an inner room. Give me leave,
my dear, says she, to introduce a young stranger to you ; from
what world he comes I know not, but I am sure that he is not
wholly of the world that we have lived in.
Mr. Ruth's countenance spoke at once the meekness of Moses
and the patience of Job. Having saluted, we both sat down.
Mr. Kuth, said I, I have a message to you and your lady from
your sweet, pretty neighbour, Miss Diana Stern. In token of her
respect and affection for you, she presents you with this cash-note
of a hundred pounds. Diana Stern! cried out Mr. Kuth, why,
master, she is nearly as poor as ourselves. By no means, sir, I
assure you ; her grandfather has come to town ; she is worth several
thousands, besides a considerable estate to which she is heiress.
O the dear creature ! the dear angel ! cried Mrs. Ruth, I will
instantly go and pay her my acknowledgments. So up she got,
and out she run, before I could prevent her.
As soon as she was gone Mr. Ruth, says I, my father is much
fonder of me than I deserve. He has given me a little money to
dispose of at pleasure among the confined debtors ; and though I
may not have enough to answer your occasions, yet my father is
so very good and so very generous, that if you give me the sum of
your debts, with the story of your distresses, his heart, I am sure,
will melt, and he will set you clear in the world.
He made no answer, however, to this my offer, but, lifting up
his eyes, he cried Well mightest thou say, great Saviour of
the simple, " Suffer little children to come unto me, for of such
is the kingdom of heaven." thou babe of the manger ! " thou
first-born of many brethren;" here, indeed, is a dear and true
little brother of thine ; but he speaks in his simplicity, and
not according to knowledge ! Then, turning toward me Can
you guess, my darling, said he, what you undertake to do for
me? I question if the charities of all this nation would be
sufficient, when united, to effect my deliverance. Nothing
nothing, but the arm of the Almighty can do it. He will do
it, indeed, in death ; but what then shall become of my wife
THE FOOL OF QUALITY. 239
and seven infants? that truly is terrible is worse than death
to think of !
While we were speaking two sweet little fellows came in, the
eldest very nearly of my size, but both clad in very thin and poor-
looking apparel. Having kneeled for their father's blessing, they
slipped behind us ; and, turning my head to observe them, I was
quite ashamed, and drew it back again, on perceiving that the poor
things were unlading their pockets of old crusts and broken meats,
which I supposed they had begged for the family.
Mrs. Ruth just then returned, and her countenance looked
something dejected. She took her seat by her husband, and,
continuing a while silent, she put her handkerchief before her
eyes, and began in broken words Can you guess, my dear, said
she, what sort of a creature this is whom we have got among us ?
This little heavenly impostor, to lighten our obligation, would have
persuaded us that the hundred pounds was the gift of another ;
but it is all his own bounty it is all his own graciousness.
Come, my daughters come, my children, kneel down and return
your thanks to this your patron, your benefactor, your little
father here !
0, sir, you would have pitied me sadly had you seen me at
this time ! The poor dear things came, all in a cluster, pressing,
and catching, and clasping, and clinging about me, while my love
and my very heart was torn, as it were, to fritters among them.
So I took them one by one in my arms, and kissed and embraced
them very cordially, calling them my brothers and sisters. I then
took out another hundred-pound note, and giving it to the eldest
of the daughters Here, my dear, said I, I always loved the
little misses better than the little masters; here is for yourself
and your sisters, to clothe you in a way more becoming your
family. And then taking a note, of equal value, I gave it to
the eldest son, for himself and his brothers, as I said, to help to
educate them in a manner more agreeable to the house from
whence they came.
Mr. and Mrs. Kuth looked so astonished at me, and at each
other, that for a while they were not able to utter a syllable ;
and, just as they began to make their acknowledgments, I cried
Hush, hush ! here comes my tutor.
Mr. Clement just then entered, followed by several servants,
who carried a tea equipage, cold fowl, baked meats, with pastries,
and some wine.
Having introduced Mr. Clement, we all got round the table, and
after a tea and a further regale, I besought Mr. Kuth to give us
the story of his misfortunes.
My father, said he, was baron of Frankford. He left my brother,
with the title, four thousand five hundred pounds a-year, entailed,
however, upon me in case of his dying without male issue ; and he
left me a small inheritance of four hundred pounds yearly, to
support in some measure the appearance of a gentleman.
As my concern bordered on my brother's estate, we saw one
another every day, and continued for several years ie straight and
tender amity.
240 THE FOOL OF QUALITY.
Being both invited one day to dine with other company, at the
house of a neighbour called Mr. Heartless, a question happened to
be started over the bottle, whether the method of setting an egg
on end was originally the invention of Columbus, or whether it was
communicated to him by some other, and I unhappily espoused
the opinion that was opposite to that of my brother.
Now, though the question was not worth the very shell of the
egg about which we debated, yet we entered as warmly into it as
though a province had lain at stake ; for it is not truth or in-
struction that disputants seek after it is victory alone that is the
object of their contention.
After some warm words and personal retorts had passed between
my brother and me, he started into sudden passion, and gave me
the lie ; whereupon, reaching across the table, I gave him a tap
on the cheek with the flat of my fingers, then rising furiously from
his seat, he swore a fearful oath, and cried I will ruin you, Harry,
though it cost me my estate ; I will rum you, Harry Kuth, with all
who are yours.
The very next day he mustered his tenants and labourers, and,
coming upon me with a little army, he laid most of my fences level
with the earth.
When I complained of this violence to my next neighbours, Mr.
Heartless and Mr. Hollow, they protested they would stand by me
against such outrageous proceedings to the last of their fortunes.
They then advanced me, between them, five hundred pounds for the
purpose. I immediately commenced suit against my lord's tenants.
But, though I cast them all with costs, I unhappily found that
nearly all my money was sunk in the contest.
Meantime, scarce a day passed wherein I was not served with a
subpoena from chancery, to answer such or such a bill, to which my
brother had procured me to be made a party. And he also entered
a suit against me himself, in order to invalidate my father's will,
whereby I claimed my little patrimony.
When I told this to my friend Mr. Hollow, he broke into a loud
laugh. Your title! cried he; the world cannot invalidate your
title, Mr. Kuth ; I will let you have a thousand pounds upon it to-
morrow ; and this I was under the necessity of accepting soon after.
Contention serves, with mutual hands, to shut every door against
reconcilation. The more I had loved my brother, the more I now
detested him. Instead of any submission or overture to appease
him, my lips uttered, in daily invectives, the overflowings ot my
heart ; as I also was assured that, on his part, he wished me nothing
less than eternal perdition. Thus we burned, on both sides, with
unquenchable fire, and the kingdom of Satan was fully opened
within us.
At length my body was imprisoned, at the suit of my neighbour
Heartless, for 750, and my lands were taken under execution, at
the suit of my neighbour Hollow, for the sum of 2000. But I
soon was informed that all this money was my brother's, who had
advanced it from time to time, to those his clandestine correspond-
ents, in order to hasten and deepen my destruction. When I
understood this I raged I was all on fire; and I took a horrid
THE FOOL OF QUALITY. 241
pleasure in the notion of having the fangs of a tiger, that I might
tear my brother piecemeal, and my false friends limb from limb,
and feast my spirit on their pangs, and mine eyes on their carnage.
But when I turned a look on my wife and seven infants, grief
joined with rage to rend me by a double distraction. I cursed the
lot to which I was appointed upon earth, and I should have sought
some desperate means of putting an end to my torments and ex-
istence together, but that I dreaded, by my death, to give pleasure
to my brother, ten times more than I dreaded the pain of death
itself.
O my friends ! had all that ever were sainted come and preached
to me the peace of our Lord Christ at that season, it would have
been no more than beating the air, or striving with so many
sponges to make an impression on a block of marble. It is distress
alone that, by oppression, makes impression that preaches the
internal doctrine of sensible mortification, and humbles a proud
spirit by plucking away all its props.
At first, I was a worm under the foot of my God. I turned and
struggled, and writhed, and fought with all my force against the
crusher. But, alas ! all was in vain ; he was too mighty for me,
and opposition served only to add to my anguish.
At length I was compelled to acquiesce, rather through the
want of power than the want of will to resist. And 1 lay, as it
were, without motion under his dispensations; at the same time
that my heart reproached him in secret.
Having sold all our moveables, and even our wearing apparel
for sustenance, we were reduced to the necessity of sending our
eldest boys to beg fragments of victuals at kitchen-windows, to
keep us from utterly famishing. This I held to be such a further
shame and disgrace as stung my soul to the quick; I therefore
began to kick against these pricks also ; but finding that the more
I spurned, the stronger I was held and pressed into the dust, I
gave up all resistance, and contented myself with grieving and
weeping under the hand of the Almighty.
From hence I gradually sunk into a state of resigned serenity,
which, although without sunshine, was yet without disturbance.
My fury smoothed its crest, my passions subsided, and I felt
nothing more of rancour against my brother, or resistance against
my God.
The activity of the soul will find itself employment. As I had
now no further prospect or concern upon earth, I began to turn
my thoughts and attention toward heaven. I locked myself into
yonder closet. I threw myself into the dust. I have sinned, I
cried I have greatly sinned, O God ! I am nothing I am crushed
even lower than the nothing that I am ; spare, spare me from a
deeper perdition, I beseech thee !
I felt that my prayer was heard : peace descended upon me like
dew upon the night ; the day-star began gradually to dawn to my
soul ; the dark kingdom of Satan gave way before the kingdom
of the Son of light and love ; and I would no more have entertained
any one of my former passions than I would have taken burning
coals and have buttoned them up in my bosom.
B
242 THE FOOL OF QUALITY.
I was greatly delighted, father, with this part, and some more of
Mr. Ruth's story ; and I got him to repeat it over and over, that
I might remember it the better.
I now, continued he I now pitied my brother as much as ever
I had hated him. I grieved for having caused the loss of his peace.
I wished to restore it to him. I wrote a penitential acknowledg-
ment of my faults. I besought his pardon, in the humblest manner,
for the unfortunate blow. I subscribed to the justice of my con-
sequent sufferings ; and I sent my son here, to attend his lordship
with my lowly address.
The triumph which this humiliation gave to my brother, supplied
him with patience to go through my memorial. But then con-
ceiving, as I suppose, that it was dictated by mercenary meanness
and hypocrisy, he tore it to pieces and dashed it into the fire.
Then returning to my child the box which had so inflamed the soul
of his lordship, he kicked my poor little fellow out of his house.
My child came home to me weeping sadly ; but I consoled him
the best I could, and mingled my tears with his ; not in any re-
sentment for the treatment received, but through grief for the
inveteracy of my unhappy brother. O my God! I cried, I no
longer repine at my abasement, at the weight of my sufferings and
mortifications ! I bless thee for them, God ! they have proved my
best friends, my most salutary physicians. Cruel and stern, indeed,
is the porter who stands at the iron gate of pain ; but O, it opens
upon regions of inward delight ; for He who clothed Himself with
the cross is all glorious within.
My happy experience of this truth opened for me a new prospect
into the mystery of God's dispensation to mortals, and threw a
number of shining lights on those very articles of gospel-redemption
which had formerly appeared to me so exceptionable and gloomy.
If God, said I to myself, hath suffered man to fall, he hath also
provided for him every possible means of recovery and restoration.
Wherefore, when sin came into the world, God also sent suffering,
its inseparable attendant, to be a cure and an antidote to the poison
thereof. If sin, therefore, hath thrust the kingdom of heaven from
within us, suffering comes, as God's forerunner; it relaxes and
unfolds the brazen gates of our polluted temple, that Christ, our
righteousness, may enter, the very hem of whose garment is salva-
tion to every soul that lays hold upon it.
Here I took Mr. Ruth about the neck, and kissing him, said, that
I was sure my father would be willing to pay his whole debt, in
return for the sweet instructions which he had given to his Harry.
You speak of your father, my dear, said he, as though he were
the representative of God in the gospel, who forgave to his servant
ten thousand talents. What you have given me already, master,
is beyond any human bounty that ever I heard of. I shall, there-
fore, lay by two of these notes, till I am better informed how far
your good father may be satisfied with the donation.
Soon after we took leave, for the present, of this honourable
family. We then went among the other principal debtors, whose
distresses indeed were great, though their stories, except one, had
little singular in them. In order to make our money go as far as
THE FOOL OF QUALITY. 243
we could, we hurried here and there through the town, com-
pounding with the several creditors, from eight to ten and twelve
and fifteen shillings in the pound ; so that, for about six hundred
pounds, we discharged a number who were indebted to the amount
of a thousand.
On Tuesday about noon, in the last week, I stepped to Mr.
Kuth's, to see if the family had been decently clad, agreeable to
my request. There I found him and his four sons clothed in warm
and clean, though very coarse, apparel ; and he told me that his
wife had gone abroad with her three daughters, in order to put
them also into a suitable condition.
While I sat with him, a young woman came in, of a very genteel
appearance, though in a plain dress. Don't you remember the girl,
sir, said she, to Mr. Kuth, who used to come to you over night, in
a green kerchief and a little red mantle? I should be very un-
grateful, indeed, said he, if any change of dress could conceal from
my remembrance that sweet and charitable countenance. sir !
she cried, the few shillings that I have brought you, from time to
time, came from a very affectionate hand, though from a hand you
would little suspect of any affection toward you ; they came from
your loving niece, Belinda Euth, who has shed many a shower of
tears on your misfortunes. May heaven be her portion, cried out
the good man, since earth has nothing equal to so much goodness !
Indeed, sir, continued the girl, the little that your niece sent
you was procured with much difficulty and danger to herself; for
from the time that, on her knees and with a deluge of tears, she
petitioned her father in your behalf, he kept a watchful eye over
her, and took from her all family trusts, so that she had nothing
wherewith to supply you except the price of some cast gowns, and
of other little matters that she feigned to have lost. Moreover,
my lord swore vehemently, that if ever she furnished you with the
value of a farthing, or kept any kind of correspondence with you
or with yours, he would disown and turn her into the public
streets.
You alarm me greatly, cried out Mr. Euth. Is any thing amiss
has any thing happened to my dear child? She was a lovely
little lamb a little angel from her cradle, though I should not
know her now if she stood erect before me. I hope, I say tell
me proceed, I beseech you !
There was a servant, sir, a man whom your niece thought veiy
faithful, and therefore intrusted with the secret of my coming to
you, that he might attend and see me safe back again. This fellow,
presuming on the confidence that was placed in him, would this
morning have taken liberties with his young mistress. This she
resented in a becoming manner, and threatened to complain of his
insolence to her father. The revengeful villain instantly ran and
told the affair to his lord, with many aggravations, as though his
daughter was robbing him of all his substance. Thereupon she
was hastily called, and having in part confessed the charge, my
lord drew his sword in his fury, whereupon, giving a shriek and a
sudden spring, she got out of his presence, and has sent me to
know, sir, if you will be pleased to receive her?
B2
244 THE FOOL OF QUALITY.
Yes, cried Mr. Ruth, to my bosom, to my heart ! with the same
pleasure and welcome that a convict receives pardon on the hour
of execution.
Just then Mrs. Ruth entered, with her three daughters, who,
running up to their father, dropped together on their knees before
him for a blessing.
While his hands and eyes were raised in prayer over them, the
young stranger stepped earnestly up, and falling on her knees
beside the daughters, she broke into tears, and cried aloud Bless
me, bless me also, O my father! I am your niece, your Belinda.
My father is no more ! Yours, my lord, is the title, yours all the
possession ! I now, in my turn, depend on your bounty for a morsel
of bread. My brother, my brother dead ! exclaimed Mr. Ruth.
He is, my lord, she replied ; he was suffocated by his rising choler,
arid expired on the spot.
While the young lady spoke, Mrs. Ruth looked as quite terrified
by the tidings of such a sudden elevation ; and clapping her hands
together, and lifting her eyes, she cried It cannot be, it is im-
possible ! Ours the title, ours the fortune ! O my God ! my
husband ! my children ! and down she dropped.
CHAPTER XVI.
WHILE Harry was speaking, Ned saw a woman standing before
one of the windows ; and, looking earnestly at her, he gave a sudden
jump, and dancing about, cried sir, sir! my mammy, my
mammy ! there's my mammy, as sure as day !
Run, Ned, instantly, cried Mr. Fenton, and call James to me.
James, yonder's the woman who stole Ned from his parents ; have
an eye to her, do not let her escape ! Order Frank to take a horse
and go with all speed to Mr. and Mrs. Fielding, that they may
come and know, of a surety, whether Ned is their child or not
Stay a moment ; as soon as you have given Frank his orders, take
the rest of the servants and lay hold on this bad woman ; bring
her into the house by force, and confine her in one of the back
rooms till Mr. Fielding arrives. By all Ned's account, she must be
a very sad creature, and deserves no favour.
James went out with alacrity upon his commission ; and, having
executed matters with his accustomed punctuality, he returned to
the company.
O, sir ! cried James, it is impossible that this woman should be
Ned's mammy, as he called her. This is some unhappy decayed
gentlewoman, as innocent of the fact, I dare answer, as the child
unborn. I am sorry, with all my heart, that I had her used so
roughly. Beside, sir, she is so deaf that she can't answer to any
thing of which she may be accused.
When we took her in hand she was terribly frighted. Come,
says I, mistress, you must now give an account of all your wicked-
ness. Ennis, says she, Ennis ? No, but Enfield ; five miles beyond
Enfield, with the Rev. Mr. Catharines. I know nothing, said I
THE FOOL OF QUALITY. 245
aloud, of your Enfields or your Catharines ; but I tell you that you
must now answer for the life that you have led. Dead, dead ! says
she, God forbid ! A dear and good master he was to me, I am sure.
I have lived with him these five years, and he gave me money
enough to bear my charges ; but I fell sick at St. Alban's and
spent all, and I have been these three days creeping along, and
begging wherewithal to keep life in me on the way.
As you say, James, cried Mr. Fenton, this account seems pretty
feasible ; a deaf servant, however, is something uncommon. Go to
her yourself, Ned, and observe her more exactly ; for if what she
says has any truth in it, it is impossible she should be your
mammy.
Ned accordingly went, but returned under evident confusion and
difficulty. I don't know what to think, sir, of this matter, cries
Ned. When I look at the gentlewoman's face, I could swear,
twenty times over, to every feature ; but, when I look at her dress
and manners, I could again almost swear against her face.
Ned's perplexity added greatly to Mr. Fenton's curiosity. He got
up in haste and went in person to inspect the party. When he
entered, he saw a young woman who looked very pale and sickly,
but of a genteel appearance, and neatly though plainly dressed.
She cast upon him a sensible and penetrating look, and curtsying to
him, with downcast eyes Sir, said she, your presence tells me that
you are master here. I know not for what offence your people have
confined me ; but if it is on any suspicion of misbehaviour, I have
here the certificate of a worthy man and a great saint, who vouches
at least for the innocence of my conduct. Here she presented
him with a paper that contained the following words :
" I certify that the bearer hath served me upwards of five years,
in quality of housekeeper and intendant of my family ; and that she
is a young woman of distinguished piety and merit, and departs, at
her own desire, on some business to London. Given under my
hand, &c.
"MAEMADUKE CATHAEINES, 01."
On reading this Mr. Fenton bowed, and made a motion with his
hand for her to sit down. He then took a pen and paper that lay
beside him, and wrote to the purpose, that he requested her to
allow him to detain her certificate for about an hour ; after which
he would return it, and endeavour to make her amends for the
unbecoming treatment which his people had given her.
On casting her eye over the paper, she made a low curtsy, and
said I shall willingly attend, sir, during your pleasure ; but hope,
in the mean time, that your charity will afford me a morsel or two
of the fragments of your last meal.
Mr. Fenton then pulled a bell, and having ordered some cold
meats and wine to be served, he bowed, and withdrew to his
company.
Ned, said he, as he entered, this woman is just as much the
empress of Russia as she is your mammy. Here, Mr. Clement,
look at this certificate ; I have no reason to doubt the truth of the
246 THE FOOL OF QUALITY.
character given in it, for her person and manners are every way
conformable. I am sorry at heart that I sent in such a hurry for
Mr. and Mrs. Fielding ; I have thereby raised a sort of expectation
in them, and it may be very mortifying to have that expectation so
suddenly and so wholly defeated.
Some time after a coach and six frothing horses drove up to the
door, and Mr. and Mrs. Fielding alighted, with a kind of impatience
and trepidation apparent in their countenance. As soon as Mr.
Fenton had duly received and seated them My dear madam, says
he to Mrs. Fielding, I think myself very unhappy in having given
you a deal of unnecessary trouble. My poor Ned here, has been
utterly mistaken in the person of the woman whom he took to be
his mammy. The certificate of her certain residence bears a date
even previous to that in which we found him . and her deportment
is more than a thousand testimonies against her being of the
wandering or dissolute class of people. Be pleased, Mr. Fielding,
to look over this certificate ; I think it has all the marks of its
being genuine.
The moment that Mr. Fielding cast his eye on the paper A well-
known character, indeed! he exclaimed. It is the hand of Mr.
Catharines, my tutor, my friend ; the man of the world, excepting
yourself, Mr. Fenton, for whom I have the dearest respect and affec-
tion. No question can be made of any thing to which he sets his
affirmative.
Alas ! cried Mrs. Fielding, then all the hopes we had conceived
must again be cast aside. Here comes our nurse, too, poor woman,
in great haste; I sent her word that we had found the person
whom we suspected to have stolen our child, and desired that she
would meet me here directly.
While Mrs. Fielding spoke, nurse entered panting, and almost
breathless ; and, without saluting or taking any notice of the
company Where, she hastily cried, where is the boy, madam, whom
you suppose to be your child?
Ah, nurse ! said Mrs. Fielding, we were quite mistaken in the
woman whom we suspected to be the kidnapper, and so that affiair
is all over again.
I have nothing to say, cried nurse, to this woman or t'other
woman ; but you must riot have another body's child put upon you.
If he is indeed your son, I shall know him in an instant ; I should
know him from all the children that ever were born. Why, nurse,
cried Mrs. Fielding eagerly, do you know of any natural mark, or
mole, or spot, by which you could guess at him ? He had no such
spot upon him, madam ; but, if he be a living boy, he has a mark
of my own making that never will out, and that's the reason that
I never dared to tell you of it. What mark, nurse, what mark?
tell me instantly, I beg you.
Why, madam, you must know as how the weather was very cold,
it being twelfth day in Christmas holidays. So you and my master
were from home on visiting, and I had a rousing fire down, and my
child stood by my knee, being just then twelve months nineteen
days old, and as sturdy a fellow of his age and inches as any could
desire to see. So the cat, all at once, threw down some crockery
THE FOOL OF QUALITY. 247
ware behind me. Up I started, to be sure, and run to save the
vessels ; but, hearing my child scream, I turned much nimbler back
again, and found him fallen with his little neck against the upper
bar of the grate. It was well that I didn't die on the spot, for
then he must have died too. So I whipped him up in my arms,
but he shrieked and roared terribly. So I got some softening
cream and spread it over the burn, and I put a plaster upon that
again ; and I covered the place from day to day so well with his
cap, that neither you nor my master knew any thing of the matter.
But the shape of his hurt went so deep into my heart and into my
memory, that, as I was saying, and still say, I should know him by
it again among all the children in all the world.
Go then, my dear nurse, cried Mrs. Fielding ; go immediately,
and examine if this boy has your mark upon him. Is this the
master, madam, whom you suspect to be your son? It is, nurse, it
is ; my heart took a liking to him the first moment I saw him ; he
too was stolen from his parents, and may as well be my son as the
son of another.
Here nurse made a hasty step or two toward Ned, but suddenly
stopping and turning pale Ah, madam! she cried, I wish you
would go and try yourself ; the wound, if he has it, is just under his
right ear ; for if I should find, indeed, that he is my very child, I
shall certainly run mad on the very spot for joy. I dare not tiy,
nurse, I dare not try for the world, said Mrs. Fielding; I am
already all of a tremble, I know not how.
Nurse, then plucking up a little resolution, stepped suddenly to
Ned, and turned up his hair ; when, giving a loud scream, she had
just the power to cry out- My child, my child, my child! and
dropped down in an anguishing fit of hysterics.
Mrs. Fielding, on hearing her nurse cry out, rose hastily from her
chair, and would have gone to embrace her son, but falling instantly
back she fainted away. The poor nurse, however, was not so
happy. She broke forth at times into convulsive peals of laughter,
that made the house ring ; and again she fell into fits of weeping,
so outrageous and bitterly desolate, as no heart under the temper of
adamant could support.
While the family were all in bustle, applying remedies to their
patients, Mrs. Fielding recovered, and hearing the cries of her
nurse, she went and kneeled down by her, and wept with her
and over her, while her tears proved a seasonable restorative to
herself.
As soon as Mr. Fielding found that his lady was well recovered,
he turned to Ned, and lifting his hair, observed the remarkable
seam that the burn had made. It is, it is my child ! he tenderly
cried. O my God! how is this? wherein have I deserved thy
smallest notice or regard, that thou shouldest thus visit me with
thy wonders, and by thy mercies put me to confusion of face?
Here Ned kneeled respectfully down for a blessing, which his
father silently called upon him with lifted hands and eyes. He
then raised him, and sitting down took him fondly to his bosom.
Thou art, thou art my son, my beloved son, he cried ; my first and
my last, the only offspring of my bowels ! thou shalt no more be a
248 THE FOOL OF QUALITY.
wanderer, no more be a beggar, my babe ! Thrice blessed be our
meeting, and tenfold blessed thy future fortune ! O that our lives,
my child, might be made one whole oblation to him from whom
this amazing salvation hath come !
By this time the nurse's distemper was greatly abated, though
she still continued extremely low and feeble, and did not seem to
recollect, except by faint glimmerings, any matter that had passed.
Mr. Fielding then proposed to take her to town to the physicians,
observing that there was room enough for her and Ned in
their carriage ; and as Mrs. Fielding made no exception, the coach
was ordered to turn directly to the door.
Poor Ned, during this time, was as a person who fluctuated
between the dread of leaving known and certain enjoyments, and
the hopes of possessing somewhat that he had not yet tasted.
Mr. Fielding then stepped up, in a kind of quick rapture, to Mr.
Fenton. He caught him in his arms My dearest sir, he cried, I
love, I respect, I revere you, even next to my God ! What can I
return you ? what shall I say to you ? All that I am or have sinks
out of sight from your benefits. I am blessed, my dear sir, I am
blessed beyond expression, replied Mr. Fenton, in being made an
humble instrument of happiness to a worthy man. O sir ! cried
Mr. Fielding, what events next to miraculous ! We came to your
door, but we were not permitted to pass ; our carriage broke for
the purpose ; you then told us of this foundling ; but what likeli-
hood that among millions he should happen to be ours ? You then
proposed an expedient for ascertaining the persons from whom he
was kidnapped. This expedient failed. God, however, would
discover him, and had foreordained the means. He set upon him
an indubitable mark for the purpose ; none knew of this but his
nurse, and she has revealed it. Had any one of these many circum-
stances been wanting, our child must have continued a stranger to
us for ever. Indeed, sir, said Mr. Fenton, they are all concurring
proofs that you are under the especial eye of Providence. But, sir,
I fear we shall have a heavy loss of our friend Ned ; for, though
he does not want his small faults, he is a worthy-hearted child, and
a very pleasant companion. O sir ! cried Mr. Fielding, you and
Master Fenton have a right to command both him and us at all
times. But come, Ned, take leave for the present of your best
friends.
Here Ned, with filling eyes, stepped respectfully to Mr. Fenton,
and, kneeling before him, took each of his hands and kissed them,
crying My father ! my father ! whereupon Mr. Fenton tenderly
raised him, and, pressing him affectionately to his bosom, cried
God be good to you, my son, and make you a blessing to your true
parents, and to all your kin !
Ned then turned to Harry, and taking him by both hands, and
looking him fondly in the face O Master Harry, Master Harry ! he
cried ; I never shall be able to say the word farewell to you, my
Master Harry! I was hungry and you fed me, I was naked and
you clothed me, I was a stranger and you took me in ; the whole
world to me was fatherless and friendless, when you were father
and mother, and a whole world of friends to me, my true lord and
TEE FOOL OF QUALITY. 249
master, Harry ! Are you not my owner ? am I not your property,
your own hard bought bargain ? Did you not purchase me with
your stripes, and with your precious blood, and will you suffer me
to be taken away from you, my heart's master ?
Here Harry, swallowing his passion as well as he was able,
clasped Ned in his arms and cried My brother, my brother, my
friend and brother for ever! Then turning to Mr. and Mrs.
Fielding, and wiping his eyes I hope, madam, I hope, sir, says he,
that you will excuse my young friend here, for his partiality to a
family who have loved him long and very dearly ; in a little time,
to be sure, he will love and respect you both, above all the world,
though put altogether. Though I grieve to part with him, I heartily
rejoice at his being found, and acknowledged to be the child of such
worthy parents ; and I hope, I say, that you will not be offended at
his concern for parting with his old friends.
No, my noble creature, cried Mr. Fielding, we are delighted at
the proof that he gives of his gratitude, and at the strength of his
attachment, where he has been so highly obliged.
Oh, sir ! Oh, madam ! says Ned (kissing the hands of his parents),
did you but know the value of what I lose, when I leave, when 1
leave and here he burst afresh into tears.
Mrs. Fielding then took Ned in her arms, and tenderly embracing
him, cried We do, my love, we do know the value of the family
that you leave ; and it is the first and the dearest wish of my heart,
that we should all become as one family and as one household. This
angel here, as you say, is your rightful owner ; and we owe him
more on that account than our whole fortune can pay, and he shall
have you as long and as often as ever he pleases: but for this
night, my darling, it would be very unkind not to go with your good
nurse, your true and loving mammy, who has suffered so much for
your sake ; and her case requires that we should take her im-
mediately to the doctor's.
Here Ned acquiesced ; and having taken a weeping leave of all the
family, not forgetting the meanest servant in the house, he stepped
slowly into the coach, sat down by his nurse, and away they drove.
As soon as the family of the Fieldings were gone, Harry with-
drew to his chamber and locked himself in, while Mr. Fenton went
to enfranchise his late prisoner.
He first returned the certificate to her, and then presenting her
with twenty guineas, he bowed and made a motion with his hand to
the door, intimating that she was at liberty to depart when she
thought proper.
Having looked several times, with silence and surprise, now at
Mr. Fenton, and again at the money I should be very ill deserving
of your bounty, sir, she said, should I attempt any longer to impose
upon you. I am not deaf, as you supposed ; it was only an artifice
which I made use of, when taken into custody, to avoid answering
questions. But you look so altogether the gentleman and the kind-
hearted Christian, that I think I ought to have no reserve of any
kind toward you.
Be pleased then, said Mr. Fenton, as far as prudence will allow,
to let me know who and what you are.
250 THE FOOL OF QUALITY.
I hope, sir, she replied, that I am very far from being what 1 was,
otherwise I should be the very vilest of the vile. Wherefore, if you
will allow a weakly woman to sit, I will tell you the whole of my
short story, with the same openness that I made confession of my
sins to Him from whom alone I can look for remission.
She then narrated to Mr. Fenton the substance of her history
it was a tale of sorrow, of passion, and of sin. She had been under-
housekeeper in the Fielding family, where she had formed an
attachment to a worthless and profligate young man in the neigh-
bourhood, who had asked her in marriage ; but this union Mr.
Fielding had strenuously opposed on account of the man's character
being so veiy bad ; and her lover soon married another. On this
she left her service full of ire and bent on vengeance ; she had
fallen into poverty through unhappiness and neglect of herself;
and, hovering round the house whose master she conceived had so
injured her, she kidnapped his child in the absence of the nurse,
who had left him on the lawn for a moment. For two years she
had subsisted by soliciting alms, and had taught little Ned to assist
in her evil trade of mendicancy : till one day, the parish officers
coming on her track, she deserted the child near Mr. Fenton's gate,
and escaped. Shortly after, being taken ill near Enfield, she was
carried into the workhouse, where, during a long sickness, she had
been attended by the Kev. Mr. Catharines, an old and pious clergy-
man, who first taught her to see the errors of her hfe, and into
whose service she passed on the recovery of her health, an altered
and a happier character in every respect. To his house she had
been now returning after a visit to a friend near London, when she
had suddenly fallen sick on the way, and spent all her money,
and in that condition she had been seen and recognized by Ned,
and brought into Mr. Fenton's house.
Her story was an ample confirmation of the discovery made by
nurse ; and Mr. Fenton having taken it all down in a certified form,
dismissed her, in a day or two after she was rested and refreshed,
in one of his own carriages, back to her master, Mr. Catharines, to
whom, as well as to the Fieldings, he wrote an account of the whole
matter.
When he had folded and sealed his letters, he took bills from his
pocket to the amount of thirteen hundred pounds, and on Harry's
return from London presented them to him. Here, my dear, said he,
here is what will enable you to be more than just to your engage-
ments it will enable you to be generous also. And I desire, my
Harry, in matters of charity, that you may never stint the sweet
emotions of your heart, for we have enough, my child, and we are
but the stewards of the bounty of our God.
Here Harry's speech was stopped, but his silence was more
eloquent than a thousand harangues. He suddenly threw his arms
about his dear father, and, hiding his face in his bosom, he there
vented the tears of that pleasure, love, and gratitude, with which
he found himself affected.
On the afternoon of the following day, Harry and Arabella went
to drink tea with the Widow Neighbourly, who received them with
a countenance that spoke an uncommon welcome. Some other
THE FOOL OF QUALITY. 251
company had arrived before them, and rose on their entrance.
When all were again seated, Mrs. Neighbourly very affectionately
questioned Harry concerning his father.
On hearing the name of Master Fenton, an elderly gentlewoman
started. Pray, madam, said she eagerly, is this Master Fenton, the
son of that noble gentleman who lives on the hill? He is, madam,
said Mrs. Neighbourly. My God ! exclaimed the stranger, can this
suckling be the father of the orphan and the widow ? Is this he who
goes about turning sorrow into joy ? who wipes the tears from the
afflicted, and heals the broken of heart? Permit me then, thou
beloved child of the Father which is in heaven, permit me to
approach and throw myself at the feet of my preserver !
So saying, she rose with a rapturous motion, and dropping at
Harry's knees, she clasped his legs and kissed his feet, before he
could prevent her.
Poor Harry, much to be pitied, sat astonished, abashed, and
distressed to the last degree. At length, recollecting, and disen-
gaging himself with difficulty My dear madam, he cried, you hurt
me greatly; what have I done that you should put me to so
much pain?
Babe of my heart, she cried, I am the wife of your Yindex
your own Vindex whom you redeemed from beggary and slavery
whom you restored to his wretched partner whom you re-
stored to his infant daughter all pining and perishing apart
from each other, but now united by you, my angel, in joy and
thanksgiving !
Here her words were suffocated, and, throwing herself back in
the chair, she was not ashamed to give way to her tears, and,
putting her handkerchief to her face, she vented her passion aloud.
Harry then rising, and going tenderly to her, put his arms about
her, and kissed her forehead, and then her lips. You owe me
nothing, my dear Mrs. Vindex, said he, I am still greatly in your
debt. I was the very naughty boy who brought your misfortunes
upon you. But I am willing to make you amends, and that will do
me a great pleasure, instead of the punishment which I deserve.
The tea-table was now laid, and Mrs. Vindex grew more com-
posed when her husband entered, leading his daughter by the hand,
a very pretty little girl of about six years old. Harry instantly
sprung up, and running, and throwing himself with a great leap
upon him, he hung about his neck, crying How glad I am to see
you, my dear Mr. Vindex ! Boy of boys, cried Vindex, am I so
blessed as to have you once more in my arms !
The company then rose and saluted Mr. Vindex, and congra-
tulated him on his return to his ancient habitation. But Harry
took him aside, and having cautioned him in a whisper not to take
any notice of what should pass, he stole a bill for one hundred and
sixty pounds into his hand, saying softly It is good first to be
honest, so there is what I owe you. And here also is a small
matter for your daughter ; I did not know till now that we had
such a sweet little charge in our family. So saying, he slipped to
him another bill of fifty pounds, and then, turning from him,
stepped carelessly to his seat, as though nothing had happened.
252 TEE FOOL OF QUALITY.
Meantime the astonished Vindex was greatly oppressed. He did
not dare to offend Harry by any open intimation of his recent
bounty, and yet he could feel no ease till the secret should be
disclosed. He therefore stole softly to the back of our hero's chair,
where, unperceived of Harry, he displayed the bills to the company,
beckoning at the same time in a way that forbade them to take
any notice ; then raising his hand over his head, and lifting his eyes
toward heaven, he blessed his benefactor in a silent, ardent ejacula-
tion, and, taking an empty seat, joined in with the company.
While they were in chat, the little Susanna slipped unnoticed
from beside her mamma, and veering over toward Harry, she went
on one side, and then on the other, and surveyed him all about ; then,
coming closer, she felt his clothes, and next his hands, in the way,
as it were, of claiming acquaintance with him. At length, looking
fondly up to his face, she lisped and said Me voud kiss oo, if oo
voud ask me. Indeed then, said Harry, me vill kiss oo, fedder oo
will or no. And so, catching her upon his knee, he pressed her to
his bosom, and kissed her over and over again.
You all see, cried Mr. Vindex, it is not one of the elders with
whom our Susanna has fallen in love. My sweet babe ! cried Mrs.
Vindex, her little heart instinctively led her to her best friend, to
the one of all living who best deserved her love. Miss Susanna,
said Mrs. Clement, puts me in mind of some very delicate lines in
Milton, respecting our Virgin Mother ; for she also refused to
kiss the loveliest man that ever was created, at least till she was
asked.
"And though divinely brought,
Yet innocence and virgin-modesty,
Her virtue and the conscience of her worth,
That would be woo'd, and not unsought be won ;
Not obvious, nor obtrusive, but retired,
The more desirable."
It is happy, said Mrs. Neighbourly, for our weakly and over
affectionate sex, that God has been pleased to fix a monitor within
us, who struggles against our inclinations, who fights against our
affections, and is, with difficulty, won over to acquiesce in our
desires. I know not else what might become of the most of
womankind.
But then, said Mrs. Vindex, are we not rather to be pitied, that,
even when our propensities are warrantable, we are prohibited
by custom from giving any intimation thereof to the object ; while
the licentious reprobate, man, roves and riots at large, and unre-
proved, beyond the pale over which it is treason for us to look?
I do not pity you, ladies, said Mr. Vindex I do not at all pity
you on account of any restraints that custom has laid you under,
respecting chastity, or its environs called decorum. The chastity
of woman is the only basis upon which the order, honour, and peace
of the world can be built ; it twists the sacred and endearing cord
of society; without it there could be no amity, no brotherhood
upon earth. But then, surely, there is much respect and tender-
ness due to those from whom such advantages are derived. Whereas
I have observed, on the contrary, that the most amiable of your
sex are generally mated to tyrants ; to men who, being born and
THE FOOL OF QUALITY. 253
appointed their protectors, pervert every end of nature and duty,
and treat with injury, contempt, and insult, the gentle saints whom
they should have cherished with their most respectful endearments.
The question yet occurs, said Arabella, whether your devils of
husbands find us angels, or make us such. Tyrants are like files,
they serve to smooth and polish whatever they are applied to. I
was once in company with a man who was called the saint-maker ;
he had married five shrews in succession, and made grizels of every
one of them before they died.
But pray, ladies, said Harry, are there no tyrants among the
wives ? I lately took a walk to Tower-hill, and growing hungry, I
turned in to a little shop of groceries, where a slender, skinny
woman, of about four feet high, stood behind the counter. Taking
out a sixpence, I threw it on the board, and desired her to give me
the value in almonds and raisins. She had scarce weighed my
merchandize when a huge, jolly-looking Quaker came up to the
hatch-door, but seemed fearful of opening it. The moment the
little woman had cast her eye toward him, she exclaimed, in a
shrill and exasperated accent Art thee there, thou rogue, thou
hang-dog, thou gallows-faced vagabond? when, gathering up the
whole dignity and importance of his person, and clapping a hand
on each side, he cried with an undaunted air, " I tell thee, Mary, I
fear thee not ! " Ah, thou villain ! she vociferated, dares thee then
appear in my presence ? Get thee back to thy fellows and husseys
on whom thee spendest my substance ! Still, however, he kept his
ground, and courageously repeated, " I tell thee, Mary, I fear thee
not!"
Not fear me, sirrah ! sirrah, not fear me ! says she ; we shall see
that in a twinkling. So saying, she whipped up the measuring-
yard, and, scudding round the counter, she flew to the door. But
he was already vanished as fast as his fat sides would let him.
And, to tell you the truth, ladies, there was something so authori-
tative and tremendous in the little body's voice and manner, that
I was glad to get out and to scamper after him.
The company laughed heartily, and Mr. Vindex added I forget
the hero's name a great general he was, and I think a Frenchman.
He won every battle abroad, but was sure to be beaten in his
turn also, as often as he returned home to his wife.
Well said Hercules and the distaff, cries Harry. But to the
point ; the bravest man I know is one Peter Patience, a currier,
who lives in the suburbs. My tutor and I were walking one day
through Islington, when we perceived the likelihood of a scuffle at
a distance.
As we approached, we saw one man making up with great fury
to another, who would have avoided him ; and who, retiring back-
ward across the street, parried his blows, and kept him off as well
as he could. His enraged adversary would then have closed in
upon him ; but, grasping his shoulder with a long and very strong
arm, he still held his enemy aloof, who nearly spent all his efforts
and blows in the air.
Never did I see so living a representation of heaven and hell,
as was visible in the faces of those two men. The muscles of the
254 THE FOOL OF QUALITY.
one were frightfully distorted, his eyes shot fire, and his mouth
frothed with madness ; while the countenance of the other was as a
lake in a summer's evening, that shews heaven in its bosom, and
reflects all the beauties of nature around it.
Be quiet, Ben ! he said ; you know that I would not hurt you !
you know that I love you. What a fool the man makes of himself.
Are you not sensible that I could demolish you with a single
blow ? but I cannot find in my heart to do it. Be quiet, Ben !
I say ; I see you want to vex me ; but I won't be vexed by you,
my dear Ben.
While the gentle Peter was thus expostulating with his exas-
perated friend, Mrs. Patience, as it should seem, had seen all that
passed from an upper casement ; and flying down-stairs, and rush-
ing out at the door, she seized her husband behind by the hair of
his head, and tore and cuffed away at a terrible rate.
Poor Peter, finding himself thus between two fires, gave a slight
trip to his male assailant; who instantly fell with his shoulder
against the pavement, and, rising with difficulty, limped homeward,
muttering curses all the way.
Then Peter, turning meekly to the lady mistress of his house
Gatty, my love, says he, what have I done to provoke you ? Oh !
she cried, you mean-spirited, hare-hearted, milk-livered poltroon!
I'll teach you what it is to suffer every fellow to pommel you !
Sirrah, sirrah (and still she cuffed), I'll have you tied down at the
foot of the market cross, with notice on your breast, for all who pass
to spit on you !
Then, quite angry to see the man so abused, to whom I had
taken such a fancy, I rushed in between man and wife, and seized
Mrs. Patience by both her hands; but, wrenching one of them
from me, she gave me a round cuff on the side of my head. I
was, however, too well used to cuffs to matter that much; and
so, catching one of her hands on both of mine, I gave her a pluck
to me, and a foot at the same time, and laid her on the broad of
her back in the kennel.
My friend Peter looked quite astonished at this, and fearing what
might happen to me on the rising up of his wife, he tucked me like
a gizzard under the wing of a turkey, and off he scoured with me
down the street ; while Mr. Clement also made pretty nimbly after
us, for fear, as I suppose, that Mrs. Patience, when on her legs,
might take him for one of our company.
As soon as we had turned a corner, and were out of harm's way,
honest Peter set me down. My friend, says I, if you would be
advised by me, you will not be in a mighty hurry to get back to
your wife. I see a house of entertainment yonder, and I wish
to be further acquainted with you. Adad, said he, you are the
boldest little body that ever I knew ; you performed a feat to-day
that made me tremble for you. Had any other man, though, used
my wife so but I pass that matter over ; I see you are too great
a hero to be threatened by any one, and I should consider that
you did what you did for my sake.
So saying, we all went into a sort of a tavern, and, being shown to
a little parlour, I called for a pint of white wine.
TEE FOOL OF QUALITY. 255
As soon as we were seated, I took my new acquaintance very
lovingly by the hand. My dear friend, said I, I have conceived
a great respect and fondness for yon, and should be glad to know
who and what you are. I am a currier by trade, sir, and my name
is Peter Patience. You are patience itself, indeed, said Mr.
Clement ; but your wife, as I think, has taken the whole trade of
the currier into her own hands.
Peter laughed, and replied She is a dear and a sweet girl as
ever lay by the side of a man, and she loves me as she loves her
own soul. Her blows were sweet blows to me ; they were the
blows of her affection. For, though I did not matter the strokes
of my friend Benjamin a single fillip, yet every one of them went
to her heart, and she wanted to frighten me from ever taking
the like again.
But pray, says I, how happened the quarrel between you and your
friend Benjamin, as you call him? Why, there it is, too, said
Peter; he also beat me out of his downright and true-hearted
kindness to me.
As this is holiday in the afternoon among us trades-folk, Ben
Testy invited me to a share of a can of flip, at the Cat and Bagpipes
over the way. Just as we sat down, Peter, says he, I am told that
your Gatty is with child. I believe it may be so, says I. I am
glad of it, Peter, with all my heart ; and so now remember that I
bespeak myself gossip. Why, that may happen, says I, just as
matters shall turn out. If the child is a boy, you shall be one of
the godfathers, and welcome ; but if it is a girl this cannot be, for
my uncle Geoffry has already engaged himself, and I have some
expectations from him. And so, says he, you refuse to admit me
for your gossip. If it is a girl, says I, you see that I cannot.
Oh ! he cried, I had forgot, I was a rascal for proposing it ; you
are of high blood, have high relations, and so scorn to have con-
nections with a poor tradesman like me. That is not the case,
indeed, my dear Ben, but Confound your dears ! says he, I will
have no more of them. You are a covetous scoundrel, and value
money more than love ! "Well, says I, but will you be patient, will
you hear reason, my friend? Friend, friend, says he, my curse
upon all such friendships! I see into you now. You're an un-
grateful, unloving, cold-hearted villain, and I would sooner be god-
father to a child of the Turk. So saying, he struck at me, and
repeated his blows across the table. But, as I saw that his choler
was inflaming more and more, I got up and retreated, merely
intending to defend myself till his passion should be spent upon
me. But you saw what happened, gentlemen, which I am heartily
sorry for, as I fear that my poor dear fellow is much hurt.
Well, said my tutor, I have heard many definitions and many
disputes concerning the word courage, but I never saw the thing
itself till this day. Pray, Mr. Peter, were you never angiy?
Scarce ever, sir, that I remember, at least on my own account ;
for I do not fear any man that steps upon the earth, and what is
it then that should make me angry? A man may be angry, said
Mr. Clement, from other motives sure besides that of fear. God
himself can be angry, and yet he cannot possibly fear.
256 THE FOOL OF QUALITY.
I am feelingly assured, sir, replied the valiant Peter, that God
was never angry in his whole life ; and that is a long time that
has neither beginning nor ending. Don't you believe the gospel?
says Mr. Clement ; the scripture assures us, in a hundred places, of
the anger of God against impenitent sinners. I am the son of a
clergyman, sir, said Peter, and mayhap could quote scripture as
well as another. The scriptures were written for man ; but how
should man understand them, if they were not written according to
his own language and to his own passions? I will ask you a
question, sir Can you be angry at a mite or a worm, which you
can crush into nothing at pleasure ? I think not, said my tutor.
No, certainly, said Peter, because you cannot fear a thing that has
not power to oifend you. Now, aU the world is but as a worm or
mite to God, and neither man nor angels can disturb or affect him
with any thing, except delight, on their acceptance of that happi-
ness which he desires to give to all his creatures.
Ay, but, says Mr. Clement, you see that God's anger and in-
dignation was so great against sin, that nothing could satisfy for it
save the death of his beloved Son. Ay, but, says Peter, the scrip-
ture which you quote tells you, that it was not his anger but his
love that sent him to us. " For God so loved the world," a very
sinful world indeed ! " that he gave his only begotten Son to take
his death upon the cross." And I am as fully assured as I am of
my own being, that the same gracious God who has already re-
deemed poor sinners, would willingly redeem the poor devils also
if they could but find in their hearts to desire his salvation.
Here, catching and clasping his hand My dear Peter, said I,
I embrace and wish from my heart that your doctrine may be
true. I have many tutors, Mr. Peter, and my father pays them all
with pleasure for the instructions that they give me. Tell me
then, Mr. Peter, what must he give you for the lesson which you
have taught me ? What lesson, my hero ? A very precious lesson,
says I ; a lesson that will always teach me " to despise myself for
a coward whenever I shall be angry."
Peter then sprung up without speaking a word, and hugged, and
clasped, and kissed me with all his affections. Then, plucking a
button from the upper part of my coat I will accept of this token,
my darling, says he ; and will look at it many a time in the day
for your sake.
But, Mr. Peter, said I, I think it would be my advantage to
keep up an acquaintance with you, and this cannot be so well done
while your dear Gatty is angry with me. You must therefore
promise me to carry a token to her also, as an olive-branch of that
peace which I want to be made between us. I will, my love, says
he ; I never refuse to give or accept the favours of a friend. You
must be upon honour,, then, not to reject what I ofier you. I am
upon honour, he said.
I then slipped something into his hand, at which he looked and
looked again ; and then cried out from the overflowings of a good
and grateful heart You are either of the blood-royal, or ought to
be so ! For the man was very poor, though so very sensible and
well descended, and so he looked upon a little as a great matter.
THE FOOL OF QUALITY. 257
Here Harry closed his narration, and all the company gathered
about him, and nearly smothered him with their caresses, in which
little Susannah came in for her full share.
On the following day Harry introduced his friend Vindex and
family to his dear father, who received them with a graciousness
that soon dispelled that awkward diffidence, and humbling sense of
obligations, under which the late unhappy preceptor apparently
sunk.
As soon as it was known abroad that Mr. Vindex enjoyed the
patronage and good countenance of Mr. Fenton and his family, his
former friends resorted to him, his acquaintance was sought by all
the neighbourhood, his credit was restored, his school daily in-
creased, and, like Job, his latter end was far more blessed than
his beginning.
Within a few weeks Mr. and Mrs. Fielding, with their sister
Phoebe, our friend Ned, and a splendid equipage, called and break-
fasted at Mr. Fenton's ; and, soon after, Mr. Fenton and his Harry,
with Mr. and Mrs. Clement, attended their visitants to St. Alban's,
where, all together, they spent the happiest night ; only that this
happiness was blended at times with the affecting consideration of
parting in the morning.
For two succeeding years and upward little interesting happened,
save that our hero increased in stature and all personal accomplish-
ments, and had happily got over the measles and smallpox. He
was now nearly master of the Latin and Greek languages. He
could outrun the reindeer, and outbound the antelope. He was
held in veneration by all masters of the noble science of defence.
His action was vigour, his countenance was loveliness, and his
movement was grace.
Harry by this time was also versed in most of the select and
interesting portions of history. Mr. Clement had instructed him
in the use of the globes and maps ; and, as he there led him from
clime to clime, and country to country, he brought him acquainted
with the different manners, customs, laws, politics, governments,
rise, progress, and revolutions of the several nations through which
they passed. Finally, said Clement, you see, Master Fenton, that
the mightiest states, like men, have the principles of growth, as
likewise of dissolution, within their own frame. Like men, they
are born and die have their commencement and their period.
They arise, like the sun, from the darkness of poverty to tem-
perance, industry, liberty, valour, power, conquest, glory, OPULENCE,
and there is their zenith. From whence they decline to ease,
sensuality, venality, vice, corruption, cowardice, imbecility, infamy,
SLAVEKY. And so, good-night !
Mr. Fenton now judged it full time to give our hero an insight
into the nature of the constitution of his own country ; a constitu-
tion of whose construction, poise, action, and counteraction, the
lettered Mr. Clement had scarcely any notion, and even the learned
in our laws and the leaders in our senate but a very confused
idea.
For this especial purpose he called Harry to his closet. You
are already, my love, said he, a member of the British state, and,
s
258 THE FOOL OF QUALITY.
on that account, have many privileges to claim, and many duties
to perform toward your country in particular, independent of your
general duties to mankind.
Should it please God to bless your friends with the continuance
of your life for eight or ten years longer, you will then be a member
of the legislature of Great Britain, one of the highest and most
important trusts that can be confided by mankind.
Here, my Harry, I have penned, or rather pencilled, for your
use, an abstract in miniature of this wonderful constitution. But,
before I give it for your study and frequent perusal, I would give
you some knowledge of the claims whereon it is founded ; as also
of the nature of man in his present depraved state, and of his
several relations as a subject and as a sovereign.
Man comes into this world the weakest of all creatures, and
while he continues in it is the most dependent. Nature neither
clothes him with the warm fleece of the sheep nor the gay plumage
of the bird ; neither does he come forth in the vigour of the foal
or the fawn, who, on the hour of their birth, frisk about and exult
in the blessing of new existence.
Sacred history seems to intimate that man was originally created
invulnerable and immortal ; that the fire could not burn him, stones
wound, air blast, nor water drown him. That he was the angelic
lord and controller of this earth, and these heavens that roll around
us; with powers to see at once into the essences, natures, pro-
perties,, and distinctions of things ; to unfold all their virtues, to
call forth all their beauties, and to rule, subdue, and moderate
these elements at pleasure.
These, truly, were godlike gifts, illustrious powers and pre-
rogatives, and well becoming an offspring produced in the express
image of an all-potent, all- wise, and all-beneficent Creator.
True, sir, said Harry ; but then we see nothing now of all this
greatness and glory. Man, on the contrary, is himself subjected to
all the elements over which, you say, he was appointed the ruler.
He has everything to fear from every thing about him ; even the
insects and little midges fearlessly attack and sting this boasted
lord of the creation ; and history shows, from the beginning of the
world, that the greatest of all enemies to man is man.
This, replied Mr. Fenton, is continually to remind him of the
depraved and guilty state into which he has fallen. Man, indeed,
is now no better than the remains of man ; but then these remains
are sufficient to prove the lustre and dignity of his original state.
When you behold the ruins of some lofty and spacious palace, you
immediately form an idea of the original beauty and stateliness
of the structure. Even so, in our present feeble and fractured state,
a discerning eye may discover many traces and fragments of man's
magnificent ruin; thoughts that wing infinity, apprehensions that
reach through eternity, a fancy that creates, an imagination that
contains an universe, wishes that a world hath not wherewithal to
gratify, and desires that know neither ending nor bound !
These, however, are but the faint glimmerings of his once glorious
illumination. All his primitive faculties are now lapsed and dark-
ened ; he is become enslaved to his natural subjects ; the world is
THE FOOL OF QUALITY. 259
wrested out of his hands ; he comes as an alien into it, and may
literally be called " a stranger and pilgrim upon earth."
All other animals are gifted with a clear knowledge and instant
discernment of whatever concerns them ; man's utmost wisdom, on
the contrary, is the bare result of comparing and inferring ; a mere
inquirer called reason, a substitute in the want of knowledge, a
groper in the want of light ; he must doubt before he reasons, and
examine before he decides.
Thus ignorant, feeble, deeply depraved, and the least sufficient of
all creatures in a state of independence, man is impelled to derive
succour, strength, and even wisdom, from society. When he turns
a pitying ear and helping hand to the distressed, he is entitled, in
his turn, to be heard and assisted. He is interested in others, others
are interested in him. His affections grow more diffused, his powers
more complicated; and in any society or system of such mutual
benevolence, each would enjoy the strength, virtue, and efficacy of
the whole.
You have, sir, said Harry, here drawn an exceeding swet picture
of society, and you know I am but a fool and a novice in such
matters; but if any other man breathing had given me such a
description, I should, from all my little reading, have withstood
him to the face. Look through all the states and associations that
were ever upon earth ; throughout the republics of Greece, Italy,
Asia Minor, and others, the most renowned for urbanity and virtue ;
and yet what do you find them, save so many bands of public
robbers and murderers, confederated for the destruction of the rest
of mankind ? What desolation, what bloodshed, what carnage from
the beginning ! what a delight in horrors ! what a propensity in all
to inflict misery upon others! The malignity of the fiends can,
I think, pierce no deeper !
Neither is this, sir, as I take it, the extent of their malevolence.
For when any of these bands, or states, as you call them, have
conquered or slaughtered all around them, they never fail, for want
of employment, to fall out among themselves, and cut the throats
of their very confederates ; and this puts me in mind of what is said
by the Prince of Peace, " The prince of this world cometh, and has
no part in me." And again he says to the purpose, that fathers
and sons, and mothers and daughters, shall be divided against each
other; and that "a man's enemies shall be those of his own
household."
I lately met with a fragment of an epic poem that struck me
wonderfully at the time; and I recollect some of the lines that
contain, in my opinion, the most genuine, the truest picture that
ever was drawn of the state of mankind.
" Man comes into this passing world in weakness,
And cries for help to man for feehle is he,
And many are his foes. Thirst, hunger, nakedness ;
Diseases infinite within his frame ;
"Without, inclemency, the wrath of seasons,
Famines, pests, plagues, devouring elements,
Earthquakes heneath, tne thunders rolling o'er him ;
Age and infirmity on either hand ;
And death, who shakes the certain dart behind him!
These, surely, one might deem, were ills sufficient.
82
260 THE FOOL OF QUALITY.
Man thinks not so ; on his own race he turns
The force of all his talents, exquisite
To shorten the short interval, by art,
Which nature left us -Fire and sword are in
His hand, and in his heart are machinations,
For speeding of perdition. Half the world,
Down the steep crulf of dark futurity,
Push off their fellows, pause upon the brink,
And then drop after."
Say then, my dearest father, tell me whence comes this \Merse
than flinty, this cruel-heartedness in man? Why are not all like
you? Why are they not happy in communicating happiness? If
my eyes did not daily see it in fact, as well as in history, I should
think it impossible that any one should derive pleasure from giving
pain to another. Can it be more blessed to destroy than to pre-
serve, to afflict than to gladden, to wound than to heal ? My heart
wrings with regret for being cast into a world where nation against
nation, family against family, and man against man, are perpetually
embattled, grudging, coveting, grasping, tearing every enjoyment,
every property, and life itself, from each other.
Here Harry for a while held his handkerchief to his eyes, while
his fond uncle dropped a silent tear of delight at beholding the
amiable emotion of his beloved.
Take care, my Harry, rejoined Mr. Fenton ; beware of the
smallest tincture of uncharitableness ! You see only the worse
part, the outward shell of this world, while the kernel, the better
part, is concealed from your eyes. There are millions of worthy
people and affectionate saints upon earth ; but they are as a king-
dom within a kingdom, a grain within a husk it requires a kindred
heart and a curious eye to discover them. Evil in man is like evil
in the elements ; earthquakes, hurricanes, thunders, and lightnings
are conspicuous, noisy, glaring ; while goodness, like warmth and
moisture, is silent and unperceived, though productive of all the
beauties and benefits in nature.
I once told you, my darling, that all the evil which is in you
belongs to yourself, and that all the good which is in you belongs to
your God ; that you cannot in or of yourself so much as think a
good thought, or form a good wish, or oppose a single temptation
or evil motion of any kind. And what I then said of you may
equally be said of all men, and of the highest angels now in
bliss.
No creature can be better than a CRAVING AND DARK DESIRE.
No efforts of its own can possibly kindle the smallest portion of
light or of love, till God, by giving himself, gives his light and
love into it.
Here lies the eternal difference between evil and good, between
the creature and the Creator; the spirits who are now in darkness
are there for no other reason but for their desire of a proud and
impossible independence ; for their rejecting the light and love of
that God, in whom, however, they live, and move, and have their
desolate being.
God is already the fulness of all possible things ; he has, there-
fore, all things to give, but nothing to desire. The creature, while
empty of God, is a wanting desire ; it has all things to crave, but
THE FOOL OF QUALITY. 261
nothing to bestow. No two things in the universe can be more
opposite, more contrasted.
Eemember, therefore, this distinction in yourself and all others ;
remember that, when you feel or see any instance of selfishness,
you feel and see the coveting, grudging, and grappling of the
creature ; but that, when you feel or see any instance of benevo-
lence, you feel and see the informing influence of your God. All
possible vice and malignity subsists in the one ; all possible virtue,
all possible beauty, all possible blessedness, subsists in the other.
As God alone is love, and nothing but love, no arguments of our
own can reason love into us, no efforts of our own can possibly
attain it. It must spring up within us, from the divine bottom or
source wherein our existence stands; and it must break through
the dark and narrow womb of self, into sentiments and feelings
of good-will for others, before this child of God can be born into
the world.
Self is wholly a miser it contracts what it possesses, and at the
same time attracts all that it doth not possess. It at once shuts
out others from its own proposed enjoyments, and would draw
into its little whirlpool whatever others enjoy.
Love, on th'j contrary, is a giving, not a craving ; an expansion,
not a contraction ; it breaks in pieces the condensing circle of self,
and goes forth hi the delightfulness of its desire to bless.
Self is a poor, dark, and miserable avariciousness, incapable of
enjoying what it hath, through its grappling and grasping at what
it hath not. The impossibility of its holding all things, makes it
envious of those who are in possession of any thing; and envy
kindles the fire of hell, wrath, and wretchedness, throughout its
existence.
Love, on the other hand, is rich, enlightening, and full of
delight the bounteousness of its wishes makes the infinity of its
wealth ; and, without seeking or requiring, it cannot fail of finding
its own enjoyment and blessedness in its desire to communicate
and diffuse blessing and enjoyment.
But is it not, sir, a very terrible thing, said Harry, for poor
creatures to be evil by the necessity of their nature ?
You mistake this matter, my Harry; you take the emptiness,
darkness, and desire in the creature to be the evil of the creature.
They are, indeed, the only possible cause of evil in or to any
creature ; but they are exceedingly far from being an evil in them-
selves; they are, on the contrary, the only, the necessary, and
indispensable foundation whereon any creaturely benefit can be
built. It is extremely good for the creature to be poor and weak,
and empty, and dark, and desiring; for hereby he becomes a
capacity for being supplied with all the riches, power, glories, and
blessedness of his God.
As God is every where in and of himself, the fulness of all
possible beings and beatitudes, he cannot create any thing inde-
pendent or out of himself; they cannot be but by being both in
him and by him. Could it be otherwise ? Could any creature be
wise, or powerful, or happy, in and of itself? What a poor and
stinted happiness must that have been: its blessedness, in that
262 THE FOOL OF QUALITY.
case, must have been limited like its being ; and how infinitely,
my child, should we then have fallen short of " that eternal weight
of glory " intended for us. But God has been graciously pleased
to provide better things. If we humbly and desirously depend
upon him, we become entitled to all that he has, and that he is.
He will enlighten our darkness with his own illumination ; he will
inform our ignorance with his own wisdom ; his omnipotence will
become the strength of our weakness ; he himself will be our
rectitude and guide from all error ; he will purify our pollution ;
put his own robe on our nakedness ; enrich our poverty with the
heartfelt treasures of himself; and we shall be as so many mirrors
wherein our divine Friend and Father shall delight to behold
the express image of his own person, his own perfections and
beatitudes, represented for ever.
Oh, sir ! exclaimed Harry, how you gladden, how you transport
me ! I shall now no longer repine at my own weakness, or blindness,
or ignorance, or insufficiency of any kind; since all these are
but as so many vessels prepared to contain pearls of infinite
price, even the riches, the enjoyment and fulness of my God.
Never will I seek or desire, never will I accept any thing less
than himself.
You must, my child, said Mr. Fenton : you are still in the flesh,
in a carnal and propertied world ; your old man must be fed, though
not pampered ; it must be mortified, but not slain.
You read in the third chapter of Genesis how our first father
lusted after the sensual fruits of this world ; how he wilfully brake
the sole commandment of his God ; how he added to his apostasy
the guilt of aspiring at independence ; how he trusted to the
promise and virtue of creatures for making him equal in godhead
to the Creator ; how in that day he died the fearfullest of all
deaths, a death to the fountain of life, light, and love within him ;
and how his eyes were opened to perceive the change of his body
into grossness, corruption, diseases, and mortality, conformable to
the world to which he had turned his faith, and into which he had
cast himself.
Now, had man continued in this state, his spirit, which had turned
from God into its own creaturely emptiness, darkness, and desire,
must have so continued for ever, in its own hell and misery,
without the possibility of exciting or acquiring the smallest spark
of benevolence or virtue of any kind. But God, in compassion to
Adam, and more especially in compassion to his yet unsinning
progeny, infused into his undying essence a small embryo or
reconception of that lately forfeited image, which, in creation,
had borne the perfect likeness of the Creator.
From hence arises the only capacity of any goodness in man.
And, according as we suppress, or quench, or encourage and foster,
this heavenly seed, or infant offspring of God within us, in such
proportion we become either evil, malignant, and reprobate ; or
benevolent, and replete with divine propensities and affections.
Now, Harry, let us turn our eyes to our gross and outward man ;
for, as I told you, it must be cared for, and sustained agreeable to
its nature: and it is well deserving of our attention, forasmuch
THE FOOL OF QUALITY. 263
as it is the husk, the habitation, and temple of that godlike
conception, which, when matured, is to break forth into never-
ending glory.
Lastly, this same outward man is further to be regarded by us,
forasmuch as his infirmities, frailties, distemperatures, afflictions,
aches, and anguishes are so intimately felt by his divine inmate,
that they occasionally excite those thousand social charities, rela-
tions, and endearments, that with links of golden love connect the
brotherhood of man.
It is, therefore, worth while to inquire into the claims and rights
of this close, though gross companion ; at least, so far as may be
requisite for his necessary, if not comfortable, subsistence upon
earth.
We find that God has intrusted him with life, liberty, and
strength to acquire property for his sustenance. It is therefore
his duty to preserve all these trusts inviolate; for, as they are
wedded to his nature, " what God hath so joined, let no man put
asunder."
If these were not, my Harry, the natural, inheritable, and in-
defeasible rights of all men, there would be no wrong, no injustice,
in depriving all you should meet of their liberty, their lives, and
properties, at pleasure. For all laws that were ever framed for
the good government of men (even with the divine decalogue),
are no other than faint transcripts of that eternal LAW OF BE-
NEVOLENCE which was written and again retraced in the bosom
of the first man, and which all his posterity ought to observe
without further obligation.
The capital apostle, St. Paul, bears testimony also to the impres-
sion of this law of rights on the consciences and hearts of all men,
where he says, in the second chapter of his epistle to the Komans,
" Not the hearers of the law are just before God, but the doers of
the law shall be justified. For when the Gentiles, which have not
the law, do by nature the things contained in the law, these,
having not the law, are a law unto themselves : which shows the
work of the law written in their hearts; their consciences also
bearing witness, and their thoughts, the meanwhile, accusing or
else excusing one another."
But, sir, interrupted Harry, I am quite astonished at the
falling off of the father of mankind. So infinitely benefited and
obliged as he was, so necessarily dependent also on his omnipotent
benefactor ; how foolish, how base, how ungrateful, how unpardon-
able, as I think, was his wonderful apostasy ! Wretched creatures
that we are! no sound branch, to be sure, could ever spring
from so debased, so cankered a stock.
Let us not be prone to judge of others, my Harry. I am con-
fident, as I am of my being, that had you or I been in the case
and place of Adam, we should have fallen in like manner. He
had an old and a very subtile adversary to deal with. He felt
himself powerful, glorious, and happy. He had no notion that
his present state could change for the worse. He was yet a
novice in existence. He could form no conception of the depravity,
pains, and mortality that afterward ensued. And he was strongly
264 THE FOOL OF QUALITY.
tempted by sensual objects from without, and by the emotions of
his creaturely nature within him. But of this I am assured, Harry,
that, if he was the greatest sinner, he was also the greatest and
most contrite penitent that ever existed; as the comparison of
his first with his latter state must have given him the most
poignant and bitter compunctions, and must have caused him, with
tenfold energy, to cling to that Kock from which he was hewn, but
from whence he had fallen.
I have already shown you, Harry, that every man has a right in
his person and property ; and that his right is natural, inheritable,
and indefeasible. No consent of parties, no institution, can make
any change in this great and fundamental law of right ; it is uni-
versal, invariable, and inalienable, to any men or system of men.
It is only defeasible in particular cases ; as where one man, by
assailing the safety of another, justly forfeits the title which he had
to his own safety.
If human nature had never fallen into a state of inordinate appe-
tence, all laws and legal restraints would have been as needless and
impertinent, as the study and practice of physic in a country
exempted from mortality and disease. But, forasmuch as all
men are tyrants by nature, all prone to covet and grasp at the
rights of others, the great LAW OP SAFETY TO ALL can no other-
wise be assured, than by THE RESTRAINT OP EACH PROM DOING
INJURY TO ANY.
On this lamentable occasion, on this sad necessity of man's calling
for help against man, is founded every intention and end of civil
government. All laws that do not branch from this stem are
cankered or rotten. All political edifices that are not built and
sustained upon this foundation, "of defending the weak against
the oppressor," must tumble into a tyranny even worse than
that anarchy which is called the state of nature, where individuals
are unconnected by any social band. But if such a system could
be framed, whereby wrong should not be permitted or dispensed
within any man, right would consequently ensue, and be enjoyed
by all men, and this would be the perfection of CIVIL LIBERTY.
Sir, says Harry, I have heard some very learned men affirm that
God, in whom is the disposal of all lives and all properties, has given
to some a right of ruling over others; that governors are his
vicegerents and representatives upon earth ; and that he hath
appointed the descendible and hereditary rights of fathers over
families, of patriarchs over tribes, and of kings over nations.
In a qualified sense, my Harry, their affirmation may be just ;
all the agents and instruments and dispensers of beneficence,
whether their sphere be small or great, are God's true representa-
tives and vicegerents upon earth ; he hath given authority to the
tenderness of parents over their progeny ; and he hath invested
patriarchs and kings with the rights of protection. But God never
gave the vulture a right to rule over the dovecot never gave up
the innocent many for a prey to the tyrannous few. God never
can take pleasure in the breaches of the law of his own righteous-
ness and benignity. Arbitrary regents are no further of his ap-
pointment than the evils of earthquakes and hurricanes as, where
THE FOOL OF QUALITY. 265
he is said " to give the wicked a king in his anger, and to set over
the nations the basest of men."
The God of all right cannot will wrong to any : " His service
is perfect freedom." It is his pleasure to deliver from "the land
of slavery and the house of bondage ; " he is the God of equity
and good-will to all his creatures ; he founds his own authority,
not in power but beneficence. The law, therefore, of safety and
well-being to all, is founded in the nature of God himself eternal,
immutable, and indispensable.
One man may abound in strength, authority, possessions ; but no
man may have greater right than another. The beggar has as
much right to his cloak and his scrip, as the king to his ermines
and crown lands.
To fence and establish this divinely inherent right, of security
to the person and property of man, has been the study and attempt
of Hermes, Confucius, Minos, Lycurgus, Solon, Numa, and of all
the legislators and systems of civil polity that ever warmed the
world with a single ray of freedom.
But so strong is the propensity to usurpation in man ; so dan-
gerous is it to tempt trustees with the investiture of power ; so
difficult to watch the watchers to restrain the restrainers from
injustice that, whether the government were committed to the
One, the Few, or the Many, the parties intrusted have generally
proved traitors; and deputed power has almost perpetually been
seized upon as property.
Monarchy has ever been found to rush headlong into tyranny
aristocracy into faction and multiplied usurpation and democracy
into tumult, confusion, and violence. And all these, whether
distinct or compounded with each other, have ended in the supre-
macy of some arbitrary tyrant, enabled by a body of military
mercenaries to rule, oppress, and spoil the people at pleasure.
How England hath come, after the many wrecks and ruins which
you have read of in history, to survive, to recover, to grow sounder
from her wounds, and mightier from her discomfitures, and to rise
superior, as we trust, to all future external and internal attempts
hath been owing to the peculiarity of her constitution.
Her constitution, it is true, is not yet quit, perhaps never ought
to be quit, of some intestine commotions. For, though liberty has
no relation to party dissension or cabal against government, there
is yet a kind of yeast observable in its nature, which may be
necessary to the fermentation and working up of virtue to the
degree that is requisite for the production of patriotism and public
spirit. But when this yeast of liberty happens to light upon weak
or vapid tempers, they are immediately affected like small beer
casks, and rave and boil over in abundance of factious sputter and
turbulence. Party and faction therefore, being the scum and
ebullition of this animating yeast, are sure signs and proofs of the
life of liberty, though they neither partake nor communicate any
portion of its beneficence ; as rank weeds are the proof of a hot snn
and luxuriant soil, though they are the detestable consequence of
the one and the other.
"Salus Populi Public Safety Security to the Persons and
266 THE FOOL OF QUALITY.
Properties of the People "constitutes the whole of England's
polity. Here empire is " Imperium lef/um, the sway of law ; " it
is the dispensation of beneficence, of equal right to all : and this
empire rises supreme over king, lords, and commons, and is
appointed to rule the rulers to the end of time.
Other states before now have been compounded, like ours, of
prince, peers, and people, the one, few, and many united. But the
error and failure of their constitution was this : The People, who
are the Fountain of all Power, either retained in their own hands
an authority which they never were qualified to wield ; or deputed
it to trustees without account, without a provident resource, or
due reserve of potency, when "those instructed with government
should be found to betray their trust."
The people of England, on the contrary, claim no authority in
government ; neither in the framing, administration, or execution
of the laws by which they consent to be governed. They are
themselves imaged, and as it were epitomized, in their three
several estates. The king represents their majesty ; the lords their
nobility; and the commons, more immediately, their legislative
power. The constitution is the inheritance of them and their
posterity ; and theirs is the right and duty, at all times, to watch
over, assert, and reclaim it. Wherefore, as you find in history,
when any of the three estates have usurped upon the others
even when all of them together have dared to violate the frame
of this salutary constitution ; the people, to whom it belongs, have
never failed, as on the other day's revolution, to restore and re-
instate it.
England's three estates, of king, lords, and commons, are parts of
the people, under covenant with the people, and accountable to
the people ; but the people, as a people, make not any of the said
estates. They are as a perpetual fountain, from whence the three
estates arise ; or rather as a sea of waters, in which three exalted
waves should claim pre-eminence, which yet shall not be able to
depart from their fund, but in rotation are dissoluble and resolvable
therein.
Thus, however complicated the system of England's polity may
be, it is all rooted in, and branches from the trust of the people, the
trust of powers which they have granted to be returned in pro-
tection. And, in truth, it makes little difference whether the
powers in such cases be granted or assumed ; whoever either re-
ceives or assumes such powers, save to the ends of beneficence,
is equally guilty of usurpation and tyranny.
Government can have no powers save the powers of the people ;
to wit, the power of their numbers, strength, and courage, in time
of war ; and in peace, of their art and industry, and the wealth
arising therefrom. Whoever assumes to himself these powers, or
any part thereof, without the consent of the proprietors, is a robber,
and should at least be divested of the spoil.
On the other hand, if such powers are granted by the people, the
people cannot grant them for purposes to which they themselves
cannot lawfully apply them. No man, for instance, can arbitrarily
dispose of his own life or liberty, neither of the whole product of his
THE FOOL OF QUALITY. 267
own labours ; forasmuch as the lives of himself and his family should
be first sustained thereby, and his obligations to others fairly and
fully discharged. He cannot, therefore, grant an arbitrary disposal
of what he hath not an arbitrary disposal in himself. Much less
can any man grant a power over the lives, liberties, or properties
of other people, as it would be criminal and highly punishable in
himself to assail them.
Hence it follows, as evident as any object at noon, that " no man,
or body of men, can rightfully assume, or even accept, what no man
or body of men can rightfully grant," to wit, a power that is
arbitrary or injurious to others. And hence it necessarily follows,
that all usurpations of such powers throughout the earth, with all
actual or pretended covenants, trusts, or grants, for the investiture
or conveyance of such illicit powers, are null and void on the exe-
cution ; and that no man, or nations of men, can possibly be bound
by any consents or contracts, eversive of the laws of God and their
own nature, of common sense and general equity, of eternal reason
and truth.
I beg pardon, sir, says Harry, for interrupting you once more ;
but you desire that I should always speak my mind with freedom.
You have delighted me greatly with the account which you gave of
the benefits and sweets of Liberty, and of its being equally the
claim and birthright of all men ; and I wish to heaven that they had
an equal enjoyment thereof. But this you know, sir, is very far from
being the case ; and that this animating fire, which ought to comfort
all who come into the world, is now nearly extinguished throughout
the earth.
sir ! if this divine, golden law of liberty were observed, if all
were restrained from doing injury to any, what a heaven we should
speedily have upon earth ! The habit of such a restraint would in
time suppress every motion to evil. The weak would have the
mightiness of this law for their support ; the poor would have the
benevolence thereof for their riches. Under the light and delight-
some yoke of such a restraint, how would industry be encouraged
to plant and to multiply the vine and the fig-tree! how would
benignity rejoice to call neighbours and strangers to come and
fearlessly partake of the fruits thereof !
How has the sacred name of all-benefiting Liberty been perverted
and profaned by the mouths of madding demagogues, at the head of
their shouting rabble, who mean no other than a licentious un-
muzzling from all restraint, that they may ravage and lay desolate
the works and fruits of peace !
But liberty, in your system, is a real and essential good ; the
only source, indeed, whence any good can arise. I see it, I revere
it ; it shines by its own light in the evidence of your description !
How is it, then, sir, that there are persons so blind or so bigoted
against their own interests and those of their fellows, as to declaim
with much energy and studied argumentation against this divine,
inheritable, and indefeasible right (not of kings, as it should seem),
but of human kind?
1 lately happened in company with a number of discontentedly-
looking gentlemen, whom I supposed to have been abettors of the
268 THE FOOL OF QUALITY.
late King James, and friends to the arrogating family of the
Stewarts. Among them was one of some learning and great clever-
ness, and he paraded and showed away at a vast rate concerning
the divinely inherent right of monarchs, implicit submission, passive
obedience, non-resistance, and what not.
Our God, said he, is one God, and the substitutes of his mightiness
should resemble himself ; their power ought to be absolute, un-
questioned, and undivided. The sun is his glorious representative
in the heavens ; and monarchs are his representatives and mirrors
upon earth, in whom he is pleased to behold the reflection of his
own majesty.
Accordingly we find, that the monarchs over his chosen people
were of his special appointment; and that 'their persons were
rendered sacred and awfully inviolable, by unction or the shedding
of hallowed oil upon them. Many miscarriages and woful defaults
are recorded of Saul as a man ; yet, as a king, he was held perfect
in the eyes of his people. What an unhesitating obedience, what a
speechless submission, do they pay to all his behests I Though he
massacred their whole priesthood, to a man, in one day, yet no
murmur was heard no one dared to wag a tongue, and much less
to lift a finger, against the Lord's anointed.
I own to you, sir, that this last argument staggered me ; such an
express authority of the sacred writings put me wholly to silence.
Say then, my dearest father, give me the benefit of your en-
lightening sentiments on this head, that I may know, on all
occasions, to give to all men an account of the political faith that
is in me.
It is extremely surprising, rejoined Mr. Fenton, that all our lay
and ecclesiastical champions for arbitrary power who have raised
such a dust, and kept such a coil about the divine, hereditary, and
indefeasible right of kings, and the unconditional duty of passive
obedience in the subject, have founded their whole pile of argument
and oratory on the divine appointment of the regal government of
the Jews, as the perfect model and ensample whereby all other
states are, in like manner, required to form their respective
governments.
Now, if these champions had engaged on the opposite side of the
question, and had undertaken the argument against arbitrary power,
they could not have done it more effectually, more conclusively,
more unanswerably, than by showing that arbitrary power was the
very evil so displeasing to the nature of God, that he exhibited his
omnipotence in a series of public and astonishing wonders, in order
to deliver this very people from the grievance thereof; and more
especially to proclaim to all nations and ages the detestation in
which his eternal justice holds all lawless dispensations all acts of
sovereign power that are not acts of protection.
Could these champions, again, have better enforced the argument
against arbitrary power, than by showing that this people so
miraculously enfranchised, but now fat, and wantonly kicking under
the indulgence of their God, had taken a loathing to the righteous-
ness of the dispensations of their deliverer " had rejected him," as
he affirms, " from reigning over them ; " and had required a King,
THE FOOL OF QUALITY. 269
like to the kings of the neighbouring nations ? the very evil from
which God had redeemed their forefathers !
Could these champions, further, have better demonstrated the
miseries, the iniquities, the abominations of such a government,
than by reciting the expostulations, the tender and earnest re-
monstrances, of God himself, on the sufferings that these rebels
were about to bring upon themselves from the enormities of an
arbitrary and unlimited sovereignty? And lastly, could they have
better recommended, to the free and the virtuous, to stand out to
the death against arbitrary oppression, than by showing the obstinacy
of these apostate Jews, when they answered to the compassionating
expostulations of their God" Nay, but we will have a king like all
the nations, to rule over us " ?
Nothing, my Harry, can be more unaccountable, more astonishing,
than the perverseness of that stiff-necked nation.
They daily drank the bitterest dregs of slavery ; they had been
galled by double chains, and had groaned under an unprecedented
tyranny and oppression. They cried out to their God, and he
miraculously delivered them from the land of their misery, and from
the house of their bondage. Yet, on the first cravings of appetite,
these soul-sensualized wretches desired to be returned to their
chains and their flesh-pots, and longed to groan and gormandize in
their old sty.
Hereupon God gave them flesh and bread to the full ; and he
brought them into a land " flowing with milk and honey," and
abounding with all the good things of this life. He made them a
free and sovereign people ; discomfited their enemies before them ;
and informed their judges with his own spirit for the dispensation
of righteousness ; insomuch that " every man sat under his own
vine, and did what was right in his own eyes." And yet they
lasciviously petitioned to be subjected to a state of absolute des-
potism ; and this for no assigned reason, save because it was the
fashion: "Make us a king to judge us, like to all the nations
around us."
Here God, in the same act, approves his attributes of mercy
and reluctant justice to his erring creatures. He punishes their
rebellion by no greater a severity than the grant of their request.
" And the Lord said unto Samuel, Hearken unto the voice of the
people in all that they say unto thee : for they have not rejected
thee, but they have rejected me, that I should not reign over them.
Howbeit, protest solemnly unto them, and show them the manner
of the king that shall reign over them.
" And Samuel told all the words of the Lord unto the people that
asked of him a king. And he said, This will be the manner of the
king that shall reign over you :
" He will take your sons and appoint them for himself, for his
chariots, and to be his horsemen. And some shall run before his
chariots. And he will appoint him captains over thousands, and
captains over fifties, and will set them to ear his ground and to reap
his harvest. And he will take your daughters to be confectioners,
and cooks, and bakers. And he will take your fields, and your
vineyards, and your oliveyards, even the best of them. And he
270 THE FOOL OF QUALITY.
will take your men-servants, and your maid-servants, and your
goodliest young men, and your asses, and put them to his work,
and ye shall be his servants. And ye shall cry out in that day,
because of your king which ye shall have chosen you ; and the Lord
will not hear you in that day.
" Nevertheless, the people refused to obey the voice of the Lord
and of Samuel; and they said, Nay, but we will have a king
over us."
And now, Harry, what do you gather from all these sacred
authorities? I gather, sir, answered Harry, from the express and
repeated declarations of holy writ, that whoever he be, whether
sovereign or subject, who doth not wish that all men should be
limited or restrained from doing injury to any, is a rebel to the will
of the God of Beneficence, and an enemy to the well-being of
human kind.
You have, exclaimed Mr. Fenton you have, in a few words,
spoke the whole of the matter. On what you have said hang all
the law and the prophets.
Again, my dear, continued Mr. Fenton, it is evident from the
history, that the Jews themselves did not pay the smallest regard
to the divine hereditary right of kingship. Both David and
Solomon, the second and third in succession, were established on the
throne in direct contradiction to such pretended right. And on
the succession of Kehoboam, the fourth king, ten of the twelve
tribes repented of their submission to an arbitrary monarchy, and
required the king to consent to a limitation of his authority, and to
enter into a contract with the people.
" And they spake unto Kehoboam, saying Thy father made our
yoke grievous : now, therefore, make thou the grievous service of
thy father, and his heavy yoke which he put upon us, lighter, and
we will serve thee."
But when Kehoboam, by the advice of his sleek-headed ministry,
refused to covenant with the people, the ten tribes cried out
" What portion have we in David ? Neither have we inheritance in
the son of Jesse : to your tents, O Israel ! " And thus the ten
tribes revolted from the arbitrary domination of the houses of Saul
and David. For as the sacred text says " The cause was from the
Lord. 11
Now when these ten tribes sent and called Jeroboam, the son of
Nebat, and made him king over Israel, it is most evident that they
obliged him to limit the regal authority, and to covenant with them
for the restoration and re-establishment of their popular rights.
For in the sixth succession, when Ahab sat upon the throne, the
regal prerogative had not yet so far usurped on the constitutional
rights of the people, as to entitle Ahab to deprive his subjects even
of a garden for herbs.
" And Ahab said unto Naboth, Give me thy vineyard, that I may
have it for a garden of herbs, because it is near unto my house, and
I will give thee for it a better vineyard ; or, if it seems good to
thee, I will give thee the worth of it in money. But Naboth said
to Ahab, The Lord forbid that I should give the inheritance of my
fathers unto thee. So Ahab came to his house heavy displeased,
THE FOOL OF QUALITY. 271
because Naboth had said, I will not give to thee the inheritance of
my fathers ; and he laid him down upon his bed, and turned away
his face, and would eat no bread."
Here we see that the people of Israel had so far recovered their
originally inherent and hereditary rights, that the regal estate had
not the privilege of wresting from any subject so much as an herb
garden.
This was a mortifying circumstance to royal elevation, but power
is seldom unfruitful of expedients. A method was found of rending
away Naboth's property (without his consent) under colour of the
law to which he had consented. He was falsely impeached, and
forfeited his life and inheritance together. But God, by the signal
punishment which he inflicted for this breach on the natural rights
of his people, evinced to the world how dear they are in the eye of
eternal justice.
How deplorable, then, my Harry, is the suppression of these
rights, now nearly universal throughout the earth ! But when
people, from their infancy, and from generation to generation, have
been habituated to bondage, oppression, and submission, without
any tradition or memorial delivered down to them of a happier or
more equitable manner of life ; they are accustomed to look on
themselves, their possessions, and their progeny, as the rightful
property of their rulers, to be disposed of at pleasure ; and they no
more regret the want of Liberty that they never knew, than the
blind-born regret the want of the light of the sun.
Before I give you this paper that I have in my hand, this epitome
or picture, in miniature, of the incomparable beauties of the Bri-
tannic constitution, it may be requisite to premise a few matters.
Travellers, when they survey a grand Egyptian pyramid, are apt
to inquire by whom the stupendous pile was erected, and how long
it hath stood the assaults of time. But when nothing of this can
be developed, imagination runs back through antiquity without
bounds; and thence contemplates an object with peculiar venera-
tion, that appears as it were to have had no beginning.
Such a structure is the constitution of Great Britain ! No records
discover when it had a commencement; neither can any annals
specify the time at which it was not.
William the Norman, above seven hundred years ago, on his
entering into the original contract with the people, engaged to
govern them according to the bonze et approbate antiquss regni leges,
the good, well-approved, and ancient laws of the kingdom; this
constitution was therefore ancient, even in ancient times.
More than eighteen hundred years are now elapsed since Julius
Csesar, in the sixth book of his Commentaries, bore testimony as
well to the antiquity as excellency of the system of the laws of
Britain. He tells us that the venerable order of the Druids, who
then administered justice throughout Gaul, derived their system of
government from Britain ; and that it was customary for those
who were desirous of being versed in the said ancient institutions
to go over to Britain for that purpose.
Caesar seems to recommend, while he specifies, one of the laws
that was then peculiar to the constitution of Britain. He tells you
272 THE FOOL OF QUALITY.
that, if a woman was suspected of the death of her husband, she
was questioned thereupon with severity " by her neighbours ;" and
that, if she was found guilty, she was tied alive to a stake, and
burned to death. The very trial used in Britain, " by a jury of
neighbours," to this day.
It is hence very obvious that our Gothic ancestors either adopted
what they judged excellent in the British constitution, or rather
superadded what was deemed to be excellent in their own.
The people who went under the general name of Goths were of
many different nations, who, from the northern, poured down on the
more southern parts of Europe.
Their kings were originally chiefs or generals, appointed to lead
voluntary armies, or colonies, for the forming of new settlements in
foreign lands ; and they were followed by a free and independent
multitude, who had previonsly stipulated that they should share and
enjoy the possessions which their valour should conquer.
Next to the general in order, the officers or principal men of the
army were attended, on such expeditions, by their kinsfolk, friends,
and dependants, who chose to attach themselves to their persons
and fortunes respectively ; and such attachments gave these officers
great power and consideration.
On their conquest or seizure of any track of country, a certain
portion thereof was allotted to the general for the maintenance of
his person and household. The general then divided the remainder
among his officers, to hold of him in fief, at the certain service of
so many horse or foot, well armed and provided, &c., and pro-
portioned to the value and extent of the land assigned. And the
said officers again parcelled out the greatest part of the said pos-
sessions among their respective followers, to hold of themselves in
like manner and service as they held of their general.
On the conquest of a country, they seldom chose to exterminate
the natives or old inhabitants, but allotted to them also separate
remnants of the land ; and admitted them to the common and equal
participation of such laws or usages as they brought from their own
3>untry, or chose to adopt.
Independent of the military services above reserved, the prince,
or chief, further reserved the civil service of personal attendance of
his feudatory officers at certain times, and for certain terms, at
his general or national court. This court was composed of three
estates, the prince, the nobles, and such of the priesthood, whether
Pagan or Christian, as held in fief from the prince ; and from this
national council our parliament took its origin.
The feudal officers also, on their part, reserved the like service
and personal attendance of their proper tenants and vassals, at their
respective courts of judicature. And forasmuch as, in such courts,
no civil or criminal sentence could take place till the voice of the
judge was affirmed by the court, which consisted of such as were
peers or equals to the party accused ; from thence we derive our
free, ancient, and sacred institution of juries.
If we look back upon one of those fief or feudal kings, seated
high on his throne, and encircled with all the ensigns of royalty ;
when we find him entitled the sole proprietor of all the lands within
TEE FOOL OF QUALITY. 273
his dominions ; when we hear his subjects acknowledge that he
alone is the fountain from whence are derived all possessions, rights,
titles, distinctions, and dignities ; when we see his most potent pre-
fects and nobles, with lifted hands and bended knees, swearing
fealty at his feet who would not take him for an arbitrary and
most absolute prince ?
Such a judgment, however, would have been very premature.
No prince could be more limited. He had not the licence of doing
hurt to the person or property of the meanest vassal throughout
his dominions. But was he the less powerful, think you, for being
less absolute? Quite the contrary. While he acted within the
sphere of his compact with the people, he acted in all the persons
and powers of the people. Though prescribed with respect to evil,
the extent of his beneficence was wholly unconfined. He was not
dreaded indeed, but on that account he was the more revered and
beloved by his subjects. He was a part of themselves ; the prin-
cipal member of their body. In him they beheld, with delight,
their own dignity and strength so gloriously represented ; and, by
being the proprietor of all their hearts, he became the master of all
their hands.
O! exclaimed Harry, who would wish, after this, to be unre-
strained from any kind of evil? how frightful, how detestable is
that power, which is not exercised in acts of benevolence alone !
and all who please may be infinite in the stretch of a good-will.
True, my dear, said Mr. Fenton I have now, continued he, given
you the rough and unformed rudiments of our Britannic constitu-
tion. And here I deliver to you my little model of the finished
construction thereof, as it now stands on the revolution just achieved
by his present glorious majesty, King William.
Your reading has informed you, and may further inform you, of
the several steps and struggles whereby this great business was
finally effected. It was not suddenly brought to pass ; it was the
work of many ages ; while Britain, like Antaeus, though often de-
feated, rose more vigorous and reinforced from every soil. Of times
long passed, what stupendous characters ! what sacred names ! what
watchful councils ! what bloody effusions ! what a people of heroes !
what senates of sages ! How hath the invention of nature been
stretched, how have the veins of the valiant been exhausted, to
form, support, reform, and bring to maturity, this unexampled con-
stitution, this coalescence and grand effort of every human virtue,
British Liberty !
[Here follows Mr. Fenton's short system of the beauties and
benefits of our constitution. But, if the reader loves amusement
preferable to instruction, he is at liberty to pass it over, and pro-
ceed in the story.]
THE king, in the constitution of Great Britain, is more properly
the king of, than a king over the people, united to them, one of
them, and contained in them. At the same time that he is ackno\v-
274 TEE FOOL OF QUALITY.
ledged the head of their body, he is their principal servant or
minister, being the deputee of their executive power.
His claim to the throne is not a claim as of some matter of pro-
perty or personal right ; he doth not claim, but is claimed by the
people in their parliament ; and he is claimed or called upon, not to
the investiture of possessions, but the performance of duties. He
is called upon to govern the people according to the laws by which
they themselves have consented to be governed ; to cause justice
and mercy to be dispensed throughout the realm ; and to his ut-
most to execute, protect, and maintain the laws of the gospel of
God, and the rights and liberties of all the people without dis-
tinction ; and this he swears on the gospel of God to perform. And
thus, as all others owe allegiance to the king, the Icing himself oweth
allegiance to the constitution.
The existence of a king, as one of the three estates, is immutable,
indispensable, and indefeasible; the constitution cannot subsist
without a king. But then his personal claim of possession, and of
hereditary succession to the throne, is in several instances pre-
carious and defeasible; as in case of any natural incapacity to
govern, or of an open avowal of principles incompatible with the
constitution ; or in case of overt acts demonstrative of such prin-
ciples ; or of any attempt to sap or overthrow a fundamental part
of that system which he was called in, and constituted, and has
sworn to maintain.
Though the claim of all kings to the throne of Great Britain is a
limited and defeasible claim ; yet the world can afford no rival, in
power or glory, to a constitutional sovereign of these free dominions.
For the honour of their own body, they have invested this their
head with all possible illustration; he concentrates the rays of
many nations. They have clothed him in royal robes, and circled
his head with a diadem, and enthroned him on high ; and they bow
down before the mirror of their own majesty.
Neither are his the mere ensigns or external shows of regency ;
he is invested also with powers much more real than if they
were absolute.
There are three capital prerogatives with which the king is
intrusted, which, at first sight, appear of fearful and dangerous
tendency, and which must infallibly and quickly end in arbitrary
dominion if they were not counterpoised and counteracted.
His principal prerogative is to make war or peace, as also
treaties, leagues, and alliances with foreign potentates.
His second prerogative is to nominate and appoint all ministers
and servants of state, all judges and administrators of justice, and
all officers, civil or military, throughout these realms.
His third capital prerogative is, that he should have the whole
executive power of the government of these nations by his said
ministers and officers, both civil and military.
I might here also have added a fourth prerogative, which must
have been capitally eversive of the constitution, had it not been
limited in the original trust I mean a power of granting pardon
to criminals. Had this power been unrestrained, all obligations
to justice might be absolved at the king's pleasure. An evil king
THE FOOL OF QUALITY. 275
might even encourage the breach of law ; he must, unquestionably,
have dispensed with all illicit acts that were perpetrated by his
own orders ; and this assurance of pardon must, as unquestionably,
have encouraged all his ministers and officers to execute his will
as the only rule of their obedience.
But God and our glorious ancestors be praised ! He is restrained
from protecting his best-beloved ministers when they have effected,
or even imagined, the damage of the constitution. He is also
limited in appeals brought by the subject for murder or robbery.
But on indictments in his own name, tor offences against his proper
person and government, such as rebellion, insurrection, riot, and
breaches of the peace by murder, main, or robbery, &c., here he is
at liberty to extend the arm of his mercy ; forasmuch as there are
many cases so circumstanced, so admissive of pitiable and pal-
liating considerations, that summum jus, or strict justice, might
prove summa injuria, or extreme injustice.
All pardonable offences are distinguished by the title of " crimina
laesae majestatis sins against the king : " all unpardonable offences
are distinguished by the title of " crimina lees* libertatis sins
against the constitution." In the first case, the injury is presumed
to extend no further than to one or a few individuals; in the
second, it is charged as a sin against the public, against the collec-
tive body of the whole people. Of the latter kind are nuisances
that may endanger the lives of travellers on the highway ; but
more capitally, any imagination, proved by overt act or evil advice,
tending to change the nature or form of any one of the three
estates ; or tending to vest the government, or the administration
thereof, in any one or any two of the said estates, independent of
the other ; or tending to raise standing armies, or to continue
them in time of peace without the consent of parliament ; or
tending to give any foreign state an advantage over these realms
by sea or by land, &c.
The king hath also annexed to his dignity many further very
important powers and prerogatives, though they do not so inti-
mately interfere with the constitution as the capital prerogatives
above recited.
He is first considered as the original proprietor of all the lands
in these kingdoms ; and he founds this claim, as well on the con-
quest by William the Norman, as by the limited kings or leaders
of our Gothic ancestors.
Hence it comes to pass, that all lands to which no subject can
prove a title, are supposed to be in their original owner, and are
therefore, by the constitution, vested in the crown. On the same
principle, also, the king is entitled to the lands of all persons who
die without heirs ; as also to the possessions of all who are convicted
of crimes subversive of the constitution or public weal.
His person, while he is king or inclusive of the first estate, is
constitutionally sacred, and exempted from all acts of violence
or constraint. As one of the estates, also, he is constituted a
corporation, and his Teste-Meipso, or written testimony, amounts to
a matter of record. He also exercises, at present, the independent
province of supplying members to the second estate by new
T 2
276 THE FOOL OF QUALITY.
creation, a very large accession to his original powers. Bishops
also are now appointed and nominated by the king, another con-
siderable addition to the royal prerogative. His is the sole
prerogative to coin or impress money, and to specify, change, or
determine the current value thereof; and for this purpose he is
supposed to have reserved, from his original grants of lands, a
property in mines of gold and silver, which are therefore called
royalties.
As he is one of the three constitutional estates, no action can lie
against him in any court ; neither can he be barred of his title by
length of time or entry. And these illustrations of his dignity cast
rays of answerable privileges on his royal consort, heir-apparent,
and eldest daughter.
The king hath also some other inferior and conditional powers,
such as of instituting fairs and markets, and of issuing patents
for special or personal purposes, provided they shall not be found
to infringe on the rights of others. He is also intrusted with the
guardianship of the persons and possessions of idiots and lunatics,
without account.
I leave his majesty's prerogative of a negative voice in the
legislature, as also his prerogative (or rather duty) frequently
to call the two other estates to parliament, and duly to continue,
prorogue, and dissolve the same, till I come to speak of the three
estates when in such parliament assembled.
Here then we find, that a King of Great Britain is constitu-
tionally invested with every power that can possibly be exerted in
acts of beneficence ; and that, while he continues to move within
the sphere of his benign appointment, he continues to be constituted
the most worthy, most mighty, and most glorious representative
of Omnipotence upon earth.
In treating of the second and third estate, I come naturally to
consider what those restraints are, which, while they are preserved
inviolate, have so happy a tendency to the mutual prosperity of
prince and people.
or
THE nobility, or second estate in the constitution of Great
Britain, is originally representative. The members were ennobled
by tenure, and not by writ or patent ; and they were holden in
service to the crown and kingdom for the respective provinces,
counties, or baronies, whose name they bore, and which they
represented.
A title to be a member of this second estate was from the
beginning hereditary : the king could not anciently either create
or defeat a title to nobility. Their titles were not forfeitable save
by the judgments of their peers upon legal trial ; and when any
were so deprived, or happened to die without heirs, the succession
was deemed too important to be otherwise filled than by the
concurrence of the three estates, by the joint and solemn act of the
Parliament, or Commune Concilium Regni.
THE FOOL OF QUALITY. 277
These truths are attested by many ancient records and parlia-
mentary acts. And although this most highly ennobling; custom
was, at particular times, infringed by particular tyrants, it was
inviolably adhered to by the best of our English kings, and was
observed even by the worst, excepting a few instances, till the reign
of Henry VII., who wished to give consequence to the third estate
by deducting from the honours and powers of the second.
In truth, it is not to be wondered that any kings, who were
ambitious of extending their own power, should wish to break and
weaken that of the nobility, who had distinguished themselves by
so many glorious stands for the maintenance of liberty and the con-
stitution ; more particularly during the reigns of John, Henry III.,
the second Edward, and second Kichard.
Till Harry VII. the nobles were looked upon as so many pillars
whereon the people rested their rights. Accordingly we find that,
in the coalition or grand compact between John and the collective
body of the nation, the king and people jointly agree to confide to
the nobles the superintendence of the execution of the great
charter, with authority to them and their successors to enforce the
due performance of the covenants therein comprised.
"What an illustrating distinction must it have been, when patriot-
excellence alone (approved before the country in the field or the
council) could give a claim to nobility, and compel, as it were, the
united estates of king, lords, and commons, to call a man up to a
second seat in the government and steerage of the nation.
Such a preference must have proved an unremitting incitement
to the cultivation and exercise of every virtue; and to such
exertions, achievements, and acts of public beneficence, as should
draw a man forth to so shining a point of light, and set him like
a gem in the gold of the constitution.
The crown did not, at once, assume the independent right of
conferring nobility. Henry III. first omitted to call some of the
barons to parliament who were personally obnoxious to him, and
he issued his writs or written letters to some others who were not
barons, but from whom he expected greater conformity to arbitrary
measures. These writs, however, did not ennoble the party till
he was admitted by the second estate to a seat in parliament;
neither was such nobility by writ hereditary.
To supply these defects, the arbitrary ministry of Kichard II.
invented the method of ennobling by letters patent at the king's
pleasure, whether for years or for life, or in special or general tail,
or in fee-simple to a man and his heirs at large. This prerogative,
however, was thereafter in many instances declined and discon-
tinued, more particularly by the constitutional king Harry the Fifth,
till, meeting with no opposition from the other two estates, it has
successively descended, from Harry VII., on nine crowned heads,
through a prescription of near a century and a half.
Next to the king, the people have allowed to their peerage
several privileges of the most uncommon and illustrious distinction.
Their Christian names, and the names that descended to them
from their ancestors, are absorbed by the name from whence they
take their title of honour, and by this they make their signature
278 TEE FOOL OF QUALITY.
in all letters and deeds. Every temporal peer of the realm is
deemed a kinsman to the crown. Their deposition on their honour
is admitted in place of their oath, save where they personally
present themselves as witnesses of the facts, and saving their oaths
of allegiance, supremacy, and abjuration. Their persons are at all
times exempted from arrests, except in criminal cases. A defama-
tion of their character is highly punishable, however true the facts
may be, and deserving of censure. During session of parliament,
all actions and suits at law against peers are suspended. In pre-
sentments or indictments by grand juries, and on impeachments
by the house of commons, peers are to be tried by their peers
alone ; for in all criminal cases they are privileged from the juris-
diction of inferior courts, excepting on appeals for murder or
robbery. Peers are also exempted from serving on inquests. And
in all civil cases, where a peer is plaintiff, there must be two or
more knights impannelled on the jury.
The bishops, or spiritual lords, have privilege of parliament, but
have not the above privileges of personal nobility. In all criminal
cases, saving attainder and impeachment, they are to be tried by a
petit jury. Moreover, bishops do not vote, in the house of lords, on
the trial of any person for a capital crime.
All the temporal and spiritual nobles that compose the house of
lords, however different in their titles and degrees of nobility, are
called peers (pares), or equals ; because their voices are admitted
as of equal value, and that the vote of a bishop or baron shall be
equivalent to that of an archbishop or duke.
The capital privilege (or rather prerogative) of the house of peers
consists in their being the supreme court of judicature, to whom
the final decision of all civil causes are confided and referred in
the last resort.
This constitutional privilege is a weighty counterpoise to his
majesty's second prerogative of appointing the administrators of
justice throughout the nation ; forasmuch as judges (who are im-
mediately under the influence of the crown) are yet intimidated
from infringing, by any sentence, on the laws or constitution of these
realms, while a judgment so highly superior to their own impends.
The second great privilege of the house of peers consists in their
having the sole judicature of all impeachments commenced and pro-
secuted by the commons. And this, again, is a very weighty coun-
terpoise to his majesty's third prerogative of the executive govern-
ment of these nations by his ministers ; since no minister can be so
great as not justly to dread the coming under a judgment from
which the mightiness of his royal master cannot protect him.
The third capital privilege of the house of peers subsists in their
share, or particular department of rights, in the legislature. This ex-
tends to the framing of any bills, at their pleasure, for the purposes
of good government ; saving always to the commons their incom-
municable right of granting taxes or subsidies to be levied on
their constituents. But on such bills, as on all others, the house of
lords have a negative a happy counterpoise to the power both of
king and commons, should demands on the one part, or bounties on
the other, exceed what is requisite.
THE FOOL OF QUALITY. 279
The change of the ancient modus in conferring nobility has not
hitherto, as 1 trust, been of any considerable detriment to the weal
of the people. But should some future majesty, or rather some
future ministry, entitle folk to a voice in the second estate on any
consideration save that of eminent virtue and patriotic service,
might it be possible that such ministers should take a further
stride, and confer nobility for actions deserving of infamy ; should
they even covenant to grant such honours and dignities in lieu
of services subversive of the constitution ; a majority of such a
peerage must either prove too light to effect any public benefit,
or heavy enough to effect the public perdition.
fghe Bemocratical or tphird Estate.
THE election of commoners to be immediate trustees and apt
representatives of the people in parliament, is the hereditary and
indefeasible privilege of the people. It is the privilege which they
accepted, and which they retain, in exchange of their original in-
herent and hereditary right of sitting with the king and peers IN
PEESON, for the guardianship of their own liberties, and the insti-
tution of their own laws.
Such representatives, therefore, can never have it in their power
to give, delegate, or extinguish the whole or any part of the
people's inseparable and unextinguishable share in the legislative
power ; neither to impart the same to any one of the other estates,
or to any persons or person whatever, either in or out of parlia-
ment. Where plenipotentiaries take upon them to abolish tha
authority of their own principles, or where any secondary agents
attempt to defeat the power of their primaries, such agents and
plenipotentiaries defeat their own commission, and all the powers
of the trust necessarily revert to the constituents.
The persons of these temporary trustees of the people, during
their session, and for fourteen days before and after every meeting,
adjournment, prorogation, and dissolution of parliament, are equally
exempted, with the persons of peers, from arrests and duress of
every sort.
They are also, during their session, to have ready access to the
king or house of lords, and to address or confer with them on all
occasions.
No member of the house of commons, no more than of the house
of peers, shall suffer, or be questioned, or compelled to witness or
answer, in any court or place whatsoever, touching any thing said
or done by himself or others in parliament, in order that perfect
freedom of speech and action may leave nothing undone for the
public weal.
They have also, during session, an equal power with the house
of lords, to punish any who shall presume to traduce their dignity,
or detract from the rights or privileges of any member of the
house.
The commons form a court of judicature distinct from the judi-
cature of the house of lords. Theirs is the peculiar privilege to
try and adjudge the legality of the election of their own members.
280 THE FOOL OF QUALITY.
They may fine and confine their own members, as well as others,
for delinquency or offence against the honour of their house ; but
in all other matters of judicature, they are merely a court of in-
quisition and presentment, and not a tribunal of definitive judgment.
In this respect, however, they are extremely formidable. They
constitute the grand inquest of the nation ; for which great and
good purpose they are supposed to be perfectly qualified by a
personal knowledge of what hath been transacted throughout the
several shires, cities and boroughs from whence they assemble, and
which they represent.
Over and above their inquiry into all public grievances,, wicked
ministers, transgressing magistrates, corrupt judges and justiciaries,
who sell, deny, or delay justice ; evil counsellors of the crown, who
attempt or devise the subversion or alteration of any part of the
constitution ; with all such overgrown malefactors as are deemed
above the reach of inferior courts, all come under the particular
cognizance of the commons, to be by them impeached, and pre-
sented for trial at the bar of the house of lords. And these in-
quisitory and judicial powers of the two houses, from which no
man under the crown can be exempted, are deemed a sufficient
allay and counterpoise to the whole executive power of the king,
by his ministers.
The legislative department of the power of the commons is in
all respects coequal with that of the peers. They frame any bills
at pleasure for the purposes of good government. They exercise a
right, as the lords also do, to propose and bring in bills for the
amendment or repeal of old laws, as well as for the ordaining or
institution of new ones. And each house, alike, hath a negative on
all bills that are framed and passed by the other.
But the capital, the incommunicable privilege of the house of
commons, arises from that holy trust which their constituents re-
pose in them ; whereby they are empowered to borrow from the
people a small portion of their property, in order to restore it
threefold in the advantages of peace, equal government, and the
encouragement of trade, industry, and manufactures.
To impart any of this trust would be a breach of the constitu-
tion ; and even to abuse it would be a felonious breach of common
honesty.
By this fundamental trust, and incommunicable privilege, the
commons have the sole power over the money of the people ; to
grant or deny aids, according as they shall judge them either
requisite or unnecessary to the public service. Theirs is the pro-
vince, and theirs alone, to inquire and judge of the several occa-
sions for which such aids may be required, and to measure and
appropriate the sums to their respective uses. Theirs also is the
sole province of framing all bills or laws for the imposing of any
taxes, and of appointing the means of levying the same upon the
people. Neither may the first or second estate, either king or
peerage, propound or do any thing relating to these matters that
may any way interfere with the proceedings of the commons ; save
in their negative or assent to such bills when presented to them,
without addition, deduction, or alteration of any kind.
TEE FOOL OF QUALITY. 281
After such like aids and taxes have been levied and disposed of,
the commons have the further right of inquiring and examining
into the application of said aids ; of ordering all accounts relative
thereto to be laid before them ; and of censuring the abuse or
misapplication thereof.
The royal assent to all other bills is expressed by the terms, " Le
roy le veut the king wills it;" but when the commons present
their bills of aid to his majesty, it is answered" Le roy remercie
ses loyal sujets, et ainsi le veut the king thanks his loyal subjects,
and so willeth." An express acknowledgment, that the right of
granting or levying moneys for public purposes lies solely, in-
herently, and incommunicably in the people and their represen-
tatives.
This capital privilege of the commons constitutes the grand
counterpoise to the king's principal prerogative of making peace or
war ; for how impotent must a warlike enterprise prove without
money, which makes the sinews thereof! And thus the people
and their representatives still retain in their hands the grand
momentum of the constitution, and of all human affairs.
Distinguished representatives ! Happy people ! immutably happy
while worthily represented!
As the fathers of the several families throughout the kingdom
nearly and tenderly comprise and represent the persons, cares, and
concerns of their respective households ; so these adopted fathers
immediately represent, and intimately concentrate, the persons and
concerns of their respective constituents, and in them the collective
body or sum of the nation. And while these fathers continue true
to their adopting children, a single stone cannot lapse from the
great fabric of the constitution.
<i>he $hr$e Estates in parliament.
WITH the king, lords, and commons, in parliament assembled,
the people have deposited their legislative or absolute power, in,
trust, for their whole body ; the said king, lords, and commons, when
so assembled, being the great representative of the whole nation, as
if all the people were then convened in one general assembly.
As the institution, repeal, and amendment of laws, together with
the redress of public grievances and offences, are not within the
capacity of any of the three estates distinct from the others ;
the frequent holding of parliaments is the vital food, without which
the constitution cannot subsist.
The three estates originally, when assembled in parliament, sat
together consulting in the open field. Accordingly, at Kunning
Mead, five hundred years ago, King John passed the great charter
(as therein is expressed) by the advice of the lords spiritual and
temporal, by the advice of several commoners (by name recited), et
aliorum fidelium, and of others his faithful people. And, in the
twenty-first clause of the said charter, he covenants that, "for
having the common council of the kingdom to assess aids, he will
cause the lords spiritual and temporal to be summoned by his writs;
282 THE FOOL OF QUALITY.
and moreover, that he will cause the principal commoners, or those
\vho held from him in chief, to be generally summoned to said
parliaments by his sheriffs and bailiffs."
In the said assemblies, however, the concourse became so great
and disorderly, and the contests frequently so high, between the
several estates, in assertion of their respective prerogatives and
privileges, that they judged it more expedient to sit apart, and
separately to exercise the offices of their respective departments.
As there is no man or set of men, no class or corporation, no
village or city, throughout the kingdom, that is not represented by
these their delegates in parliament; this great body-politic, or
representative of the nation, consists, like the body-natural, of a
head and several members, which, being endowed with different
powers for the exercise of different offices, are yet connected by
one main and common interest, and actuated by one life or spirit
of public reason, called the laws.
In all steps of national import the king is to be conducted by
the direction of the parliament, his great national council a council
on whom it is equally incumbent to consult for the king with whom
they are connected, and for the people by whom they are delegated,
and whom they represent. Thus the king is, constitutionally, to be
guided by the sense of the parliament, and the parliament alike is,
constitutionally, to be guided by the general sense of the people.
The two estates in parliament are the constituents of the king; and
the people, mediately or immediately, are the constituents of the
two estates in parliament.
Now, while the three estates act distinctly within their respective
departments, they affect, and are reciprocally affected, by each
other. This action and reaction produces that general and system-
atic control which, like conscience, pervades and superintends the
whole, checking and prohibiting evil from every part of the con-
stitution. And from this c 
